“If you don’t stop fighting, I’m going to really fight you. Maybe it’ll knock some sense back into ya,” he grinds out.
“Whatever,” I mutter.
He pushes me.
I do nothing.
He pushes again.
I push back, finally. The intoxication clearing quickly.
We go back and forth shoving one another until I’ve had enough and he’s thoroughly pissed me the fuck off.
I punch my best friend in the face.
“Good!” He yells. “Hit me. Let it all out, babyboy. Come on,” he taunts me, cupping his hands in a come here motion.
I shove at him, my fist flying at his face again. He lets me, not hitting me back once. It’s therapeutic and reviving.
Shoving him hard, he trips and stumbles to the ground. Straddling him, I hit his face repeatedly until I felt someone at my back pulling me off of him.
“Enough!” Dax’s voice booms. I wrestle against his hold, but if there is one thing, it’s that Dax is bigger than both Mav and I. He’s stronger, bulkier. He’s a damn tree trunk. I settle, no longer pushing against his hold. Looking down at my hands, bleeding and cracking open. A mix of my own blood and Mav’s. Mav rises to his feet, stumbling, with thick crimson pouring from his mouth and nose. A smirk forms along his face.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him.
“I’m not. That alone makes you look ten pounds lighter.”
“I do feel better,” I admit.
“Good.” He looks at Dax over my shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Dax mutters.
“He’s had this pent up rage and emotion. He needed to get it out. I let him.”
“He did start it. He taunted me,” I explained.
“He’s right,” Mav says. The two of us ping-ponging back and forth to explain the situation at hand.
Dax shakes his head at us like a disappointed dad. I know that look far too well.
“Win him back, Max," is all that Mav says.
Chapter 16
Maxwell
Iwokeupthismorningand saw the world in a different light. Not so black anymore, not so sad and down, but light seeping back in. I hate to admit that beating the shit out of Maverick is what helped me. It wasn’t the unlimited orgasms I found in random girls or the liquor or the marijuana or tobacco. It was the raw violence. It put me right back into my childhood shoes. A time when all I would do is use violence to cope.
I still think about Mav’s smile from last night, teeth showing and covered in blood, but he didn’t care. He washappy.
Now, it’s my turn to get my ass in gear and make myself happy.
Today is the planning day ofOperation: Win Clayton Back.
No idea how I’m going to do that, but I have my pencil and paper ready to figure it out.
It’s been two hours and my notebook is blank. Stark white. No words. No ideas.
