Play With Me: A High School Bully Romance (Diamond In The Rough Book 1)(34)

“You’re bleeding. Hold still.”

I drew in a shuddering breath. “Make him stop.”

Allison didn’t answer me and it forced my eyes closed. I felt her wiping something across my skin as sirens sounded in the distance. Fucking hell, that was becoming the school song at this point. With Clint’s fighting and Michael’s temper, they probably had the damn police on speed dial. It seemed like the entire fucking high school had gathered for this fight. And why Clint was fighting them, I could only theorize at this point. My back hurt. My wrist hurt. My head felt swimmy, and I wanted to go home.

And finally, the fight drew to a close.

I heard grunts and groans of the three guys lying on the ground. I had no idea why the hell the teachers weren’t intervening, but I figured they’d given up on this point. Given up on Clint. On his fighting. On trying to rein him in. It made my heart sick for him, but I also couldn't blame them.

“Heads up,” Allison murmured.

I felt her smooth my shirt down before a hand came into my watery view. I slowly raked my eyes up the arm, taking in the worn leather jacket before my eyes found his. Clint stood above me, concern filling his eyes. It was the only reason I took his hand, why I wanted to touch his bloody skin.

Because he genuinely looked worried.

“You’re an absolute numbskull, Clint. You know that?”

Michael’s voice filled my ears, but I was paying too much attention to Clint. His hands cupped my wrist, inspecting it before slowly turning me around. I felt him inching my shirt up before a smack resounded. I felt Clint’s hand fall away from my body, and I closed my eyes, readying my ears for the punch I knew Clint would toss Michael’s way.

But a punch didn’t happen.

“I’m just making sure she’s okay,” Clint said.

Michael scoffed. “She would’ve been fine had you not gotten into the fight in the first damn place.”

Allison sighed. “She didn’t have to follow him on the field, though.”

Michael’s voice grew louder. “You know how she feels about this asshole! Of course she would!”

And then, Clint shocked us all into silence.

“You’re right.”

I slowly turned around, trying to make sense of what I’d just heard. I gazed up into his eyes, seeing nothing but remorse filling them. I peeked over at Michael and Allison, and even they were shocked. The kids fell silent behind us, waiting for something else to happen. Waiting for the sirens in the distance to come screaming into the parking lot behind the school.

“Principal! Scatter!”

Roy’s voice boomed over everyone’s heads and Clint reached out for me. Before I could even react, he took my good hand, tugging me alongside him as he ran off. I heard Michael yelling after me. I heard Allison calling out for me. But I didn’t stop. I threaded my fingers with Clint’s and ran alongside him, despite the pain in my back.

“Fine! I’ll fucking cover for you assholes!”

I giggled and shook my head as Michael’s voice filled my ears. Clint slammed through the gate at the end of the football field, pulling me behind him. We took off for the front of the school as the principal yelled after us. I knew teachers were running for us. But I also knew they wouldn't catch us.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that? And stop pulling me, fucking hell, Clint. My wrist hurts.”

He stopped in his tracks. “This is your bad wrist?”

I shook my head. “No. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.”

“Then, come on and shut up before we’re both in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

I scoffed as he took my hand again. “We wouldn't be in this damn situation had you not fought in the first place!”

“No one asked you to intervene.”

We started running again. “Yeah, well. Fuck me for caring, I guess.”

We kept running until we got around the front of the building. Among the chaos and the insanity, the pain in my back and my wrist grew. I was pissed off at the entire world. For Clint and his bullshit fighting ways. At those boys for whatever the hell they’d been doing on the football field. For that asshole that actually knocked me down.

I’d never been knocked down before.

Clint makes you weak.

Ain’t that the fucking truth.

We didn’t stop running until we got to his bike. He tossed me a helmet and I slid behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I tried to ignore how wonderful it felt as he cranked up the engine. And just as the police were speeding into the back of the school, we sped out of the front.

“Hold on. We’re gonna take these corners a bit sharp.”

I wrapped my good hand into his leather jacket and let my hurt wrist fall between his legs. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths of the wind as it swirled around our bodies. It felt like I was inches away from the asphalt as he careened out of the parking lot. It felt like we were breaking the sound barrier as we sped off into the distance. Even with my eyes closed, I knew where we were headed. I had the turns and directions memorized.

And when the stench of my neighborhood wafted under my nose, I felt my stomach clench.

I sighed as Clint pulled into my driveway. He put his kickstand down and turned off his engine, but he didn’t move. I rested against the breadth of his strong back. I felt tired. Anxious. And yet, happy.

Happy to be against him again.

“Why are you such an idiot?” I whispered.

Clint cleared his throat. “Your mom home?”

I shook my head. “She’s out putting in job applications.”

“Good for her. Let’s get you inside, then.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“I’m sure as hell not leaving you in this condition, no.”

He slipped off the bike, then eased the helmet off my head. He smoothed my hair down around my face, then tucked some loose strands behind my ear. His touch ignited a fire in my gut. I didn’t even understand how much I’d missed it until I felt it again. I let out a soft sigh, wishing for nothing more than his palm against my cheek.

But he pulled his hand away before he caved to the temptation.

“You need help?”

I scoffed. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Just a question, Rae.”

“And a dumb one, at that. I can hold my own, Clint. Despite the fact that that douchebag knocked me off my feet.”

“I should’ve killed him for that.”

“And spend the rest of your life in jail? Nice.”

“Does anything ever make you happy?”

I planted myself on my feet in the driveway before my eyes met his.

“Yeah. I’ve got plenty that makes me happy. But bullshit boys and their stupid fights don’t happen to be one of them.”

I turned on my heel and made my way for the porch, figuring he’d leave, drive off into the distance and never come back. So imagine my surprise when he stayed behind me, following me into the house. He closed the door behind us as I made my way to the couch. I watched as he found his way into the kitchen, and I wondered what he was doing. I started to stand up to go find out, but he must have heard me.

“Stay there, Rae. I’m coming with ice.”

I leaned back into the couch with a sigh before I winced. I felt like utter shit. Clint came around the corner and sat down beside me. He reached for my wrist and slowly molded the ice pack to it. I watched him work, his bruised eye trained on my swelling skin. He helped me lean up before he slid my shirt up again, taking stock of the small wound on my back. And when his fingertips fell against the dried blood, I flinched.

But not because it hurt.

“You’ll be bruised. The cut’s only topical, though. We’ll give the ice a few minutes on your wrist, then we’ll move it to your back.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned me back into the couch before settling into the cushions beside me. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Couldn’t stop looking at him as his hands fell between his legs. He stared hard at the wall, licking his lips, which were cracked open and bleeding. I wanted to lean against him, but wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

“I’m sorry.”

Clint’s words pulled me from my trance and I furrowed my brow.

“Wait, what? Why?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry for getting you hurt.”

I shrugged. “Well, you didn’t hurt me. So, yeah.”

The pain that rose up in his eyes left me breathless.

“No, I didn’t. But, I was reckless. And that got you hurt.”

I had no rebuttal to that statement, either. Because he was technically right.

“How about we deal with one blow at a time, Clint. Okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Deal.”

He moved the ice pack from my wrist to my back, leaning me up just enough to slide it between my skin and the couch cushions. I shivered at the cold as he leaned me back. Then he reached for my swollen wrists.

“Let me know if any of this hurts,” he said.

And one by one, he began to softly massage the joints of my fingers.





32





Clinton





I mindlessly massaged her fingers as she relaxed further into the couch. One of the few times Cecilia and I had ever interacted with one another was the one time my father ever did any real damage to my body. He had dislocated my wrist to teach me a lesson, then popped it back in once I agreed to clean up my bathroom. Cecilia had come in and help me clean it, then massaged my fingers before wrapping my wrist in an ace bandage to heal.