Cruel Kisses (It's Just High School #2) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,81

Clintwood has always been intense but this right here, this is more. More hate. More anger. More show of testosterone, but I silently stare at Sean, sizing him up, feeling the blood in my veins turn cold.

We stare at each other, the tension mounting. Both teams start crowding around us, but I don’t look away from him.

The refs blow the whistle continuously. Assistant coaches run onto the field to break the mounting commotion. Players shove each other. Insults are hurled from one team to the other and back. It’s stupid, but I just stand there, Cole standing beside me, both of us watching Sean.

There’s something about him…

“I know what you did to her,” he growls, his voice carrying over the commotion.

Her? Ah, the stalker sister.

“You mean your crazy ass sister?” Cole deadpans.

“She told me what you did.”

I have no doubt that she spun some shit about me, most likely that I hurt her and now this? Fuck that.

“I would never touch your sister with a ten-foot pole, now fuck off!” I go to turn away, done with this bullshit of giving him a show, but the threat in his voice stops me when he speaks again.

“You’re going to get what’s coming for you! You should’ve stayed away from her!”

I turn back around to look at him. “Is that a threat, asshole?”

He cracks his neck from left to right, a great show of intimidation that doesn’t work at all. I take a step closer to him, then drop my voice.

“Because I fucking promise you, shithead, against me and mine, you’ll live to regret it.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the ref comes between us and blows his whistle in his face.

I can see the violence in his eyes, I know he’s itching for blood.

Coach runs on the field, a thunderous look on his face. “If you want to fight, take it to some seedy underground ring, not on this fucking field,” he curses. “Play ball.”

And as I walk away from him, with coach dragging me by my helmet, I know one thing for sure.

Tonight, really is the night.

We win the game 54-6. We practically sacked them. Everyone is on a high and I know Liam and his buddies are throwing a party—it was inevitable obviously.

“Did you see the look he gave you?” Cole says, his voice low as we change at the back of the state-of-the-art visitors’ locker room. I don’t need to ask what he’s talking about. I already know. “Is that girl still stalking you?”

I glance at my best friend, not saying a word and he chuckles. “Guess that’s my answer.”

“You saw the look on his face. He wants bloodshed,” I mutter, staring ahead, not bothered at all. “He’s going to get it.”

The locker room is empty when Cole and I are done, everyone’s already gone to the celebratory, St. Jude style, party. “Think he’ll try something here?”

“Doubt it,” I say. When we get to the almost empty parking lot, I see Sean there, with his asshole friends surrounding his car.

“The Devil’s Track,” he calls out. “You and me. Right now. No audience. No bullshit.”

Oh, there will be bullshit, all right. I’d be a fool to trust the horse shit that comes out of his mouth.

But, I’m no coward or a punk, so I nod, agreeing to his challenge and watch as he smirks, looking like he’s got a few dirty tricks up his starchy, bleached down sleeve.

Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I actually want to fuck him up. I want to hurt him for getting in the way of my plans with Mia, who by the time the game was over, wasn’t in her seat anymore, definitely running away like she always does.

Cole sighs. “I fucking hate that asshole. He gives me the creeps.”

I stare at Shane from across the lot and nod, making him grin. He gets in his car then and drives out the lot, heading for the tracks, obviously.

“Well, he thinks that’s a head start,” I mutter, making Cole chuckle.

“Well, that’s his funeral,” he says. “Follow you there?”

“Yeah,” I say, but when I start walking toward the only two cars left in the lot, I hear something, a groan. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what, man?” Cole says, typing on his phone. But I hear it again, a whispered groan. I look up, trying to see where it’s coming from.

“A voice,” I say as dread sinks into my back, running down my spine until I freeze like a deer caught in headlights.