back of his hand.
“Are you joking right now? Who does that shit?”
“What?” The girl feigned shocked by his rejection as she continued to bat her fake lashes at Mac. “I thought that’s what you wanted. You kiss everyone, right?”
“He said no. Multiple times!” I yelled, and before I could stop myself, I shoved her hard enough to make her lose her balance and fall flat on her ass.
Oops.
“You bitch!” she screamed at me as she struggled to get up, but her shoes were too tall, and she stayed on the floor instead.
“Mouth rapist,” I shouted back before Mac had his arms wrapped around me, holding me back because I was coming. Absolutely. Unglued.
“Come on, Cujo,” he whispered in my ear, pulling me away.
I noticed that we had drawn a little too much attention to our situation. It only surprised me because the music was so loud and everyone was usually too caught up in their own world to notice anything happening outside of their little bubble. But I guessed that tossing someone to the ground might cause a commotion.
I had no idea where Mac was dragging me off to, but I didn’t care. I was happy to get away from the drama, the unwanted attention, and the girl who had refused to take no for an answer. I wasn’t paying attention to where we were walking, my eyes still filled with rage, but Mac pulled me into a bedroom before shutting and locking the door behind us.
Sweet, Broken Boy
Sunny
“I
really hope this is yours.” I looked around the space, taking note of the size, and realized that we were in Chance’s old room. Which was now Mac’s.
There were piles of clothes on the floor and baseballs randomly scattered all over the place. A single wood bat lay across the desk, covering a closed laptop and a dark blue notebook.
Mac sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. Blowing out a long, slow breath, he looked up at me, his light-hazel eyes weary. “Thanks for that, Sunny.”
I moved next to him to sit before hopping right back up and pacing. I was too amped up to stay still. “Girls shouldn’t treat you like that,” I said as fire raged through my veins. I wanted to rip that chick’s hair out in clumps. “You know that, right, Mac?” I suddenly had a feeling that he didn’t.
“But I created this, you know? ‘The playboy baseballer who hooks up with a different girl every night,’ ” he said, using his fingers to make air quotes before glancing up at me, his bright eyes locking on to mine before looking away in defeat.
“It might be a part of who you are, but it’s not all you are.” I stopped pacing and took a few calming breaths before dropping my body next to his once more and doing my best to stay put. Placing my hand on his thigh, I continued, “And even if you are a giant flirt and hook up with girls all the time, that doesn’t mean you don’t get a say in the matter.”
He wasn’t listening to me. I could see it in his eyes, his body language. Mac was lost in his thoughts.
“It’s my fault. I did this to myself,” he mumbled to himself.
We girls went through this kind of thing all the time—blaming ourselves for the actions of others. We’d been subliminally taught to question every single thing from what we wore to what we said. Did we smile too much? Did our body language contradict our words? We broke down every single aspect of what we had done to deserve whatever it was that had happened to us, that’d wronged us. Because society had basically told us that people wouldn’t take us at our word. They wouldn’t believe what we said, just because we said it. They’d look at everything else to make it our fault. It was ironic to see it happening to a guy.
“No, it’s not. And you did not. You said no, Mac.” I emphasized the word no, but he still wasn’t looking at me. Reaching for his chin, I gripped it softly and turned him to face me. “You said no. You have every right to say no regardless of how many times you’ve said yes before.”
“Thanks.” He was so quiet that I wasn’t sure I’d actually heard it or made it up.
I let go of his face, and he focused on his hands in his lap.
“Sunny, I’m really sorry about this