The Bad Boy and the Other Bad Boy

Chapter 5

I stood outside Denver's house in the dark. I felt shaky and hyper as I stared up at where I knew his room was, like my pulse had sped up. The driveway was empty, so I presumed his parents were out. 

Good.
It was late enough that Denver was probably asleep - that was, if he was home and not out spying on Cobras or something. I left my bike behind a bush and made my way over to his fence, vaulting over it easily even after all the beers I'd had. There was a pipe going up along the wall up to Denver's window.
I shivered. Denver's window. He could be inside there.
I placed my hands on the cold pipe, and hauled myself up, careful not to make a sound. His window was the slightest bit open - what a dumb fuck. He should have been prepared for this - I mean he was totally asking for it. Why would he think that if he left his window open someone wouldn't climb into it. Stupid. I mean, if I didn't do it someone else would. So he should be thanking me.
I focused on pulling myself up to the window. When I reached it, I took one hand off the pipe and slid my fingers under the slightly open window, and pulled it open slowly, holding my breath.
It opened silently, wide enough for me to pull myself onto the sill, and slide one leg over into the darkened room, being as quiet as I could. I scanned the room quickly.
The bed was empty, covers thrown back.
Messy pig.
Probably out stalking Cobras.
I slowly pulled my other leg into the room and stood up straight, pulling the window closed beside me.
And then I was flying to thud onto the floor as someone bodily tackled me. I landed with an "oof", the air vanishing from my lungs.
Fucking hell.
It was a trap.
I writhed out from under my attacker, aiming a punch at their face, which they dodged. I sprang up behind them, twisting their wrist up behind their back. They countered by charging backwards into me and slamming me against the wall. I grunted, pulling their wrist up higher, threatening to break their arm. I doubled over and let go as they elbowed me hard in the stomach. A foot trip - and for the second time I was slammed to the floor, knees pinning my legs, hands pinning my wrists to the floor. I threw my head back in pain - as I did, the light streaming in through the window from the street lamp outside fell across my face. I looked up - and there he was - unmistakable and monochrome in the dark.

ROCCO

Jax Wilson glared up at me, pure fury and hate mixed with surprise burning in his eyes.
"Fuck you, Denver. " He spat. "Who tipped you off, huh? Who set you up to this? "
I could hardly form a sentence through my shock.
"Fuck do you mean? This is my house. You were climbing up the pipes really fucking loudly, mumbling something about stupid and thanking you. "
Surprise flashed in his eyes again. "What! Fuck you, you're lying. I was quiet as fuck. Someone told you! "
I scoffed. "They wouldn't have needed to, Wilson, you did that all by yourself. Now what the hell is wrong with you? Why the fuck are you here?" I sniffed. "Are you drunk?"
In a flash, he'd thrown me off and was pinning me down instead. A knife had appeared out of nowhere and he pressed it to my abdomen.
"So many questions, Denver. " he snarled, eyes glittering in the faint light. "Here are some for you. Why haven't you been at school? Huh? It's cos you've been spying on us, isn't it? Tell me, how much have the cops been paying you? "
The knife was cold and hard through my shirt, but I was too confused to be scared. Wilson had noticed I hadn't been at school? 

And what the fuck was he on about?
"What the fuck are you on about? I'm not a rat for the cops. I was on vacation, you fucker! Not that it's any of your business! Where the fuck did you get that idea?"
Something like bewilderment passed though his expression. Then he pressed the knife harder.
"You're still lying, you fucking asshole? I know what you've been doing. " he yelled, eyes searing into mine.
"Get the fuck out!" I roared.
His fist slammed into my cheek. I shoved his chest as hard as I could, and then we were rolling and thrashing on the floor. The knife seemed to be gone, thank god. Wilson wouldn't hesitate to use it. I couldn't help but think I was so glad my parents weren't home - they would've had a fit if they were here.
Our fighting took us near my bed, and I grabbed a baseball bat and attempted to swing it at him. He rolled right before it hit him.
Wilson was fast. I knew that from experience - I'd fought him many times, over many years. If I could beat him, it would be through strength. I wrapped my arm around his neck and squeezed, putting him in a headlock. He punched me hard in the gut and I grimaced, but held on. He managed to twist around and punched me in the stomach.
I doubled over, groaning, immobilised by pain. I curled into a ball. He stood over me silently, not expecting me to get up. I did, though, slowly and painfully standing up straight right in front of him, meeting his eyes. Both of us were out of breath, but his eyes glared deep into mine and I could almost understand how deep Jax Wilson's hate for me ran. His eyes were burning. All of him was burning. Heat seemed to be radiating off of him in pulsing waves - I imagined that I could see the air distorted by heat around him.
He was burning, burning me by standing near him, burning my room, burning the air.
Jax Wilson was burning. 

JAX

I hated him so much I couldn't breathe.

ROCCO

He hated me so bad. He kept staring and staring, like he was trying to kill me with his eyes. He would kill me if he had the chance, I think. He could kill me. He took a step closer, and I wanted to back away but I could't move. I held my breath. Light from the streetlamp glinted off his hair.
The streetlamp would be the only witness to Jax Wilson murdering me.
His hands flew up and shoved me hard in the chest.
I slammed back into the wall, and he followed.
I tensed, bracing for impact.
And then he was kissing me.

JAX

what the fuck 

ROCCO

Vacation. I had been - on - vacation. I hadn't been spying on Cobras. 

JAX

I didn't know what I was doing.

ROCCO

He kissed exactly the way you would imagine Jax Wilson would kiss. His lips were hard and almost violent in the way he seemed to be trying to devour me. He fought me with his mouth.
He was killing me with his mouth.

JAX

I didn't know what I was doing.
I couldn't - stop

ROCCO

Maybe this was some sort of physiological torture or humiliation he had learned. Or maybe he would tell everyone I was gay after this. Wait - that didn't make sense.
Nothing made sense -

JAX

oh my god

oh, my god

ROCCO

It was like Jax Wilson had made me forget how to kiss. Everything I'd learned from experience or looking things up online had disappeared from my brain and everything I did was pure instinct.
He was so close.
He was so close.
He was breaking my brain with his proximity.
A low, almost pained sound was coming from deep inside him and nothing made sense.

JAX

I wasn't made from steel, or fire. I was made of putty.

ROCCO

He was slowing down now, angling his head so he could reach further into my mouth. His tongue was there,  too, the same tongue which had spat ugly words at me and also told me deep secrets - was now trying to force it's way down my throat and I was letting it.

JAX

So hot. He was so hot.

ROCCO

I don't know how long it went on for - it could have been seconds or years. And I don't know which one of us pulled away - I had to brace myself against the wall, breathing hard.
He backed away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, eyes wide in the dark.
Neither of us could take our eyes off each other.
He stared at me for a long time, then like a ghost was gone, the window open.

A guy just kissed me.

And I kissed him back.

I just kissed Jax Wilson back.

My room felt colder.