Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

16 - almost good

Chapter 16 – almost good

I burnt my tongue on smores and words and feelings.

We were allowed to stay up later than usual, but eventually people dragged their feet to bed. Nolan was especially quiet after his one-on-one session.

A twig snapping in the distance brings me back from my thoughts. I've been bouncing around memories from childhood. The fire is still burning and I promised I'd wait until it goes out. My eyes can the edge of the forest but I see nothing and hear only the rustling of leaves caused by the wind.

Perhaps I'm imagining things.

I poke the fire with a stick.

It has got chilly outside. I zip my hoodie. Am I mad at my mom for everything, or that she didn't explain why?

Another twig snaps and I raise my head. Could it be an animal?

But it's Mickey who comes out of the woods and spits on the ground, hands in pockets. And if that isn't the equivalent of a douche bag then I don't know what is. He runs a hand over his hair and inhales through his nose.

"Look who I've found," he says happily. He stops a couple of steps away from me and stares at me and then the fire. Two guys follow him, nudging each other and goofing around. Mickey glances over his shoulder and whistles for them to quit acting like children. "Having a night out?"

I look to him lazily. "What is it you want?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Some entertainment, I guess."

His sidekicks stand behind him and snicker. They don't look like they should be here.

"It's late. I really don't have the strength to deal with you," I say and shake my head. "Why don't you just go to sleep and tell your friends to go home?"

"Oh, that's not how we run things here." Mickey kicks a twig and then steps on it.

"You don't run anything here," I correct him.

"Shut up," one of the two groans. "Just shut up!"

I blink at him, surprised. "If I bother you so much, leave."

"Here's the deal," he continues. Mickey's mouth twitches. "It's a little gift from Marcus." He comes closer and I tighten my hold on the stick. The stranger's hand is balling into a fist and I get defensive. "Marcus is starting a business of fighting. You have a choice – to join in or to spend the rest of your night in a hospital."

"Seriously?" I roll my eyes. "Marcus has some serious attachment issues." I rub my temple, not dropping the stick. "Could you please tell him that he sucks as a businessman?"

The stranger growls under his breath. Mickey lifts his palm in a gesture for the stranger to calm down. Then he steps forward. "You know Marcus doesn't like being told no."

"Then he shouldn't ask stupid questions."

"You're on dangerous grounds," Mickey warns and takes a seat on the log. He stares at me sideways, hands in pockets.

"I'm trying to get rid of my anger. You are really not helping at the moment," I press through my teeth. "And I hate unfair fights."

Mickey throws his hands up defensively. "We don't have to fight. We don't," he says. "You can always choose to do a couple of gigs. You'd get paid. No one has to know about this."

"Marcus can fight his own fights. I'm not his puppet."

In a heartbeat Mickey is on top of me, fingers round my throat, pressing me down on the ground. "Last chance, sweetheart," Mickey threatens. I clench my jaw. I will never go back to Marcus.