“Yeah?” I jerk my shoulder out of Mickey’s grip. It takes every bit of self-control to stop my hand from rubbing away the feeling of his touch, which lingers on my skin like a nightmare. “I heard you, but I don’t want to deal with your bullshit right now. I have better things to do.”
Mickey rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset about Kaila kissing me. I told you, I didn’t kiss her back. You know it’s only you that I want.”
I hold back the cringe threatening to break free. I hate myself so much for dating Mickey, but he terrifies me. He looked close to slapping me when I kept telling him no. Survival mode kicked in, and I said yes. It’s a miracle Kaila threw herself at Mickey, giving me a reason to break up with him. She’s a two-faced bitch, but it worked out in my favor for once.
Dating Mickey pissed Ryder off; that’s the only positive that came out of it. He didn’t throw a fit like I hoped, but he always had a clenched jaw and tightened fists anytime we were near each other. He continued to ignore me and pretend I didn’t exist, but my brother couldn’t hide his annoyance at the relationship.
There is no escape now, though, and I have to face this mess. I plant a hand on my hip and pop out my hip in a don’t-fuck-with-me stance. “We broke up two weeks ago. I don’t care what you do with other girls.”
His expression darkens as he steps into my personal space. “Don’t pretend you don’t want me, Mad. I know you do. I just don’t understand why you’re playing hard to get.”
That was his major complaint while dating: I play hard to get. Being a tease. A prude. All because I didn’t want to make out with him or let him touch me. Just the thought of him putting his hands on me makes my skin crawl. I can’t imagine having his lips on mine without wanting to puke.
“I don’t want you,” I say firmly, wishing it’s enough to make him stop.
Shadows cross Mickey’s face, contorting the sharp features. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you.”
I shake my head and scoff. “Why? Are you going to kick my ass too? All because you’re not getting what you want?”
Patronizing him is a dangerous move, but I’m so sick and tired of his bullshit. I’m sick of people in my life telling me what to do. For once, I want to make my own decisions.
Mickey closes the space and grips my jaw. He forces me backward until my back meets the wall with a dullthump. “Don’t. Say. That.”
I jerk my chin out of his grasp, but he catches me again, his grip tightening until the sharp pain digs into my gums through my cheeks.
“Fuck. You,” I growl. “Get your hands off me.”
“You’re really pushing it, Mad,” Mickey snarls. He leans closer, until his strong cologne burns my nostrils. “We’re not done, and you need to get that through your thick skull.”
I grind my teeth together and grab his wrist. My nails dig into his skin, and his fingers press deeper into my cheeks. “I’m not someone you can boss around.”
Mickey raises his hand, and I flinch, fully expecting him to hit me. Instead, he slaps the wall beside my head and offers a cruel smile. “It seems you’re forgetting who I am and need a reminder. Maybe you need a punishment to learn your place, bitch.”
Mickey’s hand releases my face and drops to my throat. I let out a ragged cry as his fingers curl into a tighter grip.
I shove his chest with all my strength, but he barely budges. He moves in closer and squeezes his fingers around my neck until I can’t draw a breath. Kyle positions himself at an angle to hide Mickey and me from curious eyes.
It’s not like anyone will help me. They’ll stand aside and watch as Mickey chokes the life out of me and growls cruel things in my ear. Maybe this is karma for all the times I turned my back on everyone in my current position.
Mickey leans in until his nose touches mine. He bares his teeth in a humorless grin. All the life in his eyes fades, leaving soulless pits in its place. I struggle to get out of his grip, but he’s holding me so that I can barely move. He drags me forward, then slams me against the wall again, fisting my hair with his other hand to keep me in place.
“Keep struggling, Mad. I enjoy that shit,” Mickey says through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to ignore me after ending things with me when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Ringing fills my ears, and black dots creep into the corners of my vision. I sway and blindly grapple at Mickey. Vaguely, I’m aware that I’m about to pass out. No one will care. They’ll ogle the show Mickey is putting on, shrug their shoulders, and keep walking.
Tears sting my eyes. A scream works its way up my throat and dies before it reaches my mouth. My head swims from dizziness. Everything seems to draw backward as though I’m floating down a long, dark hallway. I barely feel my nails scratching into Mickey’s wrist with one last attempt to fight him off.
A shadow blankets Mickey right before he’s roughly yanked off of me. I suck in a ragged breath tinged with a weak cry. My chest and lungs burn as I desperately suck in more air.
“What the fuck?” Mickey snarls.
A tall, lean body squeezes between Mickey and me, his back facing the fuming football player. I crane my neck and look into familiar blue eyes that are narrowed and full of rage. Ryder slams his palm on the wall beside my neck as he slowly turns his head and glares at Mickey.
“I’d leave if I were you,” Ryder drawls, emotionless.
My stomach flips. I can’t look away from my stepbrother as he protects me from my ex-boyfriend. He’s so close to me, his chest brushing against mine and his amber-and-cypress scent filling my senses until it’s all I can focus on.
Mickey’s eyes widen and, like the scaredy cat he is, he spins on his heels to flee. He stops when he notices Jaxon standing a foot away from him with a blank expression and his hands balled into tight fists by his sides. I know that look all too well. He’s close to losing his shit and beating Mickey’s ass.