Closer to You (Book One ✓)

T W E N T Y - N I N E

BEAU

The asshole officer with a cropped, military like haircut takes me by the head and shoves me forward, pushing my face to the hood of his cop car. The other guy, bloodied and more bruised than me, I'm sure, is taken away by a second officer, keeping us far enough apart that we won't go at it again. What even started the fight, I can't remember. But I do remember the feeling that rushed through me when I finally hit something.

A smirk spreads across my face, the blood mixing with saliva in my mouth. Whether it's the alcohol or the adrenaline keeping me from feeling any pain in my face, I'm not sure. But I'd bet my nose is broken again. Whatever.

"Wipe that smile off your face, shithead," The cop snaps gruffly, jamming cuffs around my wrists tightly. He yanks me upright before shoving me into the back of the cruiser, hitting my head on the ceiling as he does.

Getting into the drivers seat, the old cop groans in disgust as the music from the club changes into a MisFits song.

"Not a fan?" I smirk again, feeling my eye begin to swell shut.

Barely looking in my direction at all, he grunts once, ignoring my question. Eyeing the back of his shaved head, my temper rises and I think of other ways I can get under his skin. It's clear I bother him, why not have some fun?

Turning out the window as we pull from the curb, I see Zach and Tyler watching after me, disappointment all over their stupid faces. Jace is probably off somewhere with another girl and that thought annoys me even more.

Glaring at the officer's head, I loudly hum the song he just scoffed at, hoping it makes him feel even a small amount of the anger I feel now.

Hours later, I'm the only one in the jail cell and by now, both the alcohol and adrenaline have worn off. My knuckles ache and my nose fucking kills. I scowl at the officer pretending to read a magazine, making sure the cover is pointed directly at me. Emma's face fills the page and I clench my sore fists tightly, turning my eyes away from her freckles. Those fucking freckles.

A flash of something worse than anger runs through me, and I'm on my feet instantly, shoving the feeling away.

"Hey," I kick the heavy bars keeping me prisoner with the toe of my boot. "Don't I get a phone call or some shit?" What I really want is a fucking drink.

The officer yells to keep my mouth shut, not looking up from the magazine. Within a few minutes, though, he's unlocking the cell door and leading me to the pay phone reluctantly. I smirk at him another time before thinking of who to call.

My fingers hesitate over the buttons, knowing that there's one person who would have come running, day or night, rain or snow, if I was in trouble.

Dialing a different number entirely, I smash the buttons harder than necessary. As I wait for Rocco to pick up, my mind mocks me over and over, replaying my biggest mistake again and again.

You had her right there, so why did you push her away?

***

Emma - 3 months ahead

In the dimly lit bathroom stall, I pull out my cellphone for the millionth time today and reopen my emails. Tuning out the club-shaking music and the shrill yelling of the tipsy women in the adjacent stall, I re-read the congratulatory statement and review my scholarship offers, warmth spreading through me.