Dragon's Burn Page 4

  “Sounds like fun. Just be careful and make sure you call me if you need me.”

  “Always. Love you.” I kiss her cheek and head upstairs to get dolled up. If I’m being bribed to go to this thing, I’ve got to look my best. Plus, if these biker guys are close to my age, why not look extra hot? It’s my last summer before adult responsibilities start to take over fully, may as well make the most of it.

  Poppy

  I take a left onto the Tiller’s driveway. The closer we get, the more I notice how huge this end of year bash is going to be. The party has just started, and there’s already about fifty cars, at least, pulled off into the grass next to the driveway.

  “Holy shit,” Deb gasps. Yeah, my thoughts exactly.

  “Last chance to back out,” I half tease, turning down the music.

  “Nope. We’re doing this. We deserve to have fun tonight.”

  I hold in a sigh, pulling beside a black Mustang. Normally parties and big events don’t bother me, but for some reason, my stomach is doing flips—which is not helping the two portions of dinner I had. We do one last check of our makeup in the mirror then make our way toward the party.

  The music is pumping so loud the ground beneath my feet vibrates with each bass hit. The sun is almost down as we walk around to the back. The way the home sits on their fifteen acres of land, there is nothing but open field on all sides of them until the tree line about two acres from here.

  Micah is standing on the wraparound porch behind his turntables and laptop as tonight’s DJ. I’d always thought he was kinda cute, but that’s about as far as it went. Honestly, I hardly found any of the boys in school attractive. I dated a couple over the years, but they were short-lived and never carried the ‘wow’ factor to keep me interested.

  “Let’s go get some drinks.” Deb nudges me with her elbow.

  We weave between the growing crowd fanned out around the big bonfire to a table up against the back wall filled with coolers and kegs. I’m not a big drinker, opting for water instead. Deb heads for the keg. I give her the side-eye just to mess with her.

  “What? I need something to relax my nerves.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Is he even here?” I scan the crowd looking for Bobby and catch sight of him on the other side of the fire, talking with a group of people. He’s tall and lanky with a mess of brown hair. Not my type, but Deb’s obsessed with him. “He’s on the other side of the fire,” I point.

  “Ohmygod, don’t point.” She slaps my hand down, making me laugh harder.

  “I know you didn't drag me out here tonight just for me to watch you watch him.” She goes to say something, but I cut her off. “Suck it up and go talk to him. If you don't make first contact, believe me, I will, and I don't think you want that,” I threaten-tease.

  She stares at him with longing in her eyes then lets out a long sigh. “Fine. You gonna be okay for a bit?”

  I roll my eyes. “Go. I promise not to have a meltdown unless something happens to my cute new shoes.” I extend my leg and admire my new nude wedges with a strap around the ankle. “Then, all hell will break loose, and you know there’s no stopping me once that happens.” She snorts and gives me one of her ‘you’re so ridiculous’ smiles. “You have five seconds to leave. One. . .two. . .”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going. Sheesh.” She continues muttering under her breath but heads over to the fire.

  I smile, watching her walk with such timidness. I fear that one small sound will have her running straight back to me. I love her, but I wish I could pull her out of her shell. She’s such an awesome person, but she hides it to the point that most people don’t even notice her, like she’s invisible.

  She finally gets close enough to Bobby, but her steps falter. “No, keep going.” I see the moment she gives up, letting defeat set in. Her shoulders slump and her head dips. “Aww, come on. You can do it.” She goes to turn around when. . . “Yes!” I cheer, startling a few people standing around me.

  Ignoring the weird looks, I focus back on Deb. She moves closer to him at a snail's pace. After what seems like forever, a couple people notice her, Bobby specifically. He waves her over. A huge smile breaks out across her face and I can feel one on mine. Thank God that's done.

  Glancing at my phone, I see it’s half-past nine. I take another sip of my water and scan the crowd again, but this time I people watch. It’s amazing to see how even after we all just graduated, no longer defined by the social status rules of high school, people still bunch themselves up into small groups of who’s familiar to them. Fascinating really.

  I won’t miss any of my classmates. Well, Deb I’ll miss. Do I feel shitty for feeling that way? Not particularly. I tried early on in middle school to figure out where I fit in, but it was no use. I was never meant to be popular, or a jock, or a band nerd, or any other category kids like to use. High school was no better. I was hoping to reinvent myself, but I learned fast that I didn’t care about what people thought of me or where I landed in the school’s hierarchy.

  I blow out my cheeks. Sixteen weeks. That’s how long I have before I get to raise my middle finger and curse this place on the way to the airport. I can do it. I’ve made it this far, and I’m in the home stretch. I get giddy every time I think about the new life I’ll be starting at Boston University.

  No one will know who I am or who my parents are. Hell, I can make up an elaborate story about how I’m the heir to some jewelry company or the niece of a big Wall Street tycoon. I wouldn’t do that, but the point is, I can be whoever I want because I’m not letting this place define who I’m going to be.

  “Hello, Poppy.”

  I inwardly cringe at the raspy voice cutting through my thoughts like sandpaper—Ralph Pettington. Where Scott is the football star, Ralph is the basketball star. Had I not grown up with these people and seen how they’ve turned out so far, I may have had a different outlook on some. With Ralph, though, he oozes creepy like sludge sliding across the floor. Don’t step in it; otherwise you’ll get it stuck all over you—much like his attention with me.

  I may have made the mistake at the beginning of sophomore year of agreeing to go on a date with him. I knew better, but I was curious if I fit into a ‘group,’ and he was available, so I figured why not? Well, one date led to four boring ones. After the fourth one, when I refused to put out, he went back to his friends and told them I was a prudish, stuck-up bitch, among a few other colorful things. For months after, I had to deal with the backlash. I felt like I was walking around with a target on my back, being used as everyone’s punching bag, all because I wouldn’t give it up to a sleazeball. Kids are freaking cruel.

  When I finally had enough, I lured him behind the school, gave him a swift punch to the gut and a hard kick to his dick, along with threatening his reputation. You know, rising star and all. Unfortunately for him, the whole scene was witnessed by a group of varsity cheerleaders, which led to a huge blow to his ego and rep. But since then he’s had this gross interest in me. It’s lessened when he found girls who were willing to sleep with him. He more than made up for that one instance based on the rumors I’ve heard. Thank heavens, I made the right decision.

  “Ralph.” I peg him with a disinterested look, hoping he’ll catch on and leave me alone. But he doesn't. Dammit.

  He takes a step closer to me, the beer in his cup sloshing to the side. Great, he seems buzzed. Just what I want to deal with. At least he’s not drunk yet, though he’s quickly making his way there.

  “I liked your speech today. Especially the part about confessing your feelings.”

  He moves closer while I take a step back, only to realize I’m out of room when my ass hits the table behind me. Fucking hell.

  “Back up.” He’s too close for comfort. When he doesn't move, I give him a small push just to put some room between us.

  “Woah, Poppy. What the hell is your problem?” I try to keep my irritation and a small amount of fear at bay. He looks down at his now wet shirt from where the
beer splashed him.

  I wince at the growing wet spot. I didn’t mean for that to happen and would be upset if someone had spilled beer on me. “Sorry, I don’t like to be crowded,” I lie, maneuvering to the side, so I’m no longer caged in.

  His eyes narrow and flicker with anger, making my stomach recoil. Even in the dark, with only the glow from the fire, his cold blue eyes show just how pissed he is, but he attempts to cool his features and lift his mouth into a smile; it fails to reach the hardness in his stare.

  “Look, I wanted to talk to you. Can we go somewhere quiet?” I study him with caution. “Ple. . .” Whatever coercing he was about to do ends at the sound of a door slamming nearby. Both our attentions snap to the source.

  Scott Tiller and three of his friends come storming out the back door. They all stop at the edge of the deck to stare across the yard, whispering to each other. The music is still playing but dies down when Micah notices what's going on. I follow everyone's gaze to whatever Scott is focused on, but where I’m at my line of sight is blocked. Not wanting to miss anything, I slip away from Ralph to get a better view.

  “No shit.” I hold back a laugh that’s threatening to come out.

  Coming around the other side of the house is Brittney and the rest of the FaBs. I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head at the picture in front of me. It’s like that iconic slow-mo hallway scene from the movie Mean Girls—pink clothes and all. Her huge smug grin grows as more and more people take notice of her and her entourage—specifically the two guys trailing behind them. The first guy is very attractive. Tall, with deep bronze skin, wearing jeans with holes, and a plain white t-shirt under a leather vest with a couple patches down the front. From the way he’s looking around it’s hard to miss he’s bored. He clearly wants to be anywhere but here, and I don’t blame him.

  Beside him is the guy whose mere presence has my belly flipping double-time with excitement.

  Ryu.

  His bright red hair is styled in a mohawk, and he’s wearing a similar outfit to the other guy, but his shirt is black, and his leather vest has more patches on it. He and his friend stick out among the crowd, but it’s easy to see the questioning looks from other guys and lust-filled stares from other girls. A few guys even move to stand in front of their girlfriends, like a shield.

  My first thought is how gorgeous Ryu is, but then I remember who he’s here with. I don’t want to say his hotness level went down, but I am questioning his taste in friends, or girls he’s interested in since he’s here with her.

  Brittney turns and says something to Ryu and the other guy. Damn music. I’m not sure why, but I wish I could hear what she’s saying. She turns back and locks eyes with her ex, who’s fuming. Scott looks ready to launch across the deck, fists clenched at his sides and chest rising with deep breaths. I don’t know why he’s so mad. Last I heard, they were still broken up. See, this is the lame high school crap I won’t miss.

  Going back to the newly arrived group, I let my eyes lazily run over Ryu again. Hiding behind a couple people, I enjoy checking him out a bit longer, making sure every detail is committed to memory because from back here, I’m in the safe zone. If I were to get closer, I’ve no doubt his cognac eyes would try and lure me in. I bet the orange flecks in his eyes would glow from the light of the fire. The effect, I’m sure, would be hauntingly beautiful.

  Someone grabbing my arm jerks my attention away from the hot guy I was perusing.

  “Poppy, I wasn’t done talking to you.”

  I look at where he’s gripping my arm and yank it out of Ralph’s hold. “Seriously, don’t touch me,” I growl, taking a few steps back.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Woah. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you quickly. Can’t you spare five minutes?”

  I take in a deep breath to try and calm myself. I may not like or trust him, but I’m not a complete bitch. I glance around, taking note of how many people are flooding the back yard. I can take care of myself, but it doesn’t hurt knowing that there are a bunch of people here. Ralph has never done anything to me besides spread rumors, but that still doesn’t fix the unsettling vibe I get from him. There’s just something off about him, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  He continues sipping his beer, waiting on my answer.

  “Two minutes.” He smiles and motions with his head to follow him.

  We walk the short distance to the side of the house. It’s darker over here, but it is easier to hear. Ralph props himself up against the wall. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. In the dim moonlight I watch him take another sip of beer, stalling. As the nanoseconds tick by, I get antsier.

  “I liked your speech today.”

  “Thank you. You said that already.”

  He smirks at my harsh reply. “You’re hot when you get all fired up.” His odd and unwelcome attempt at a compliment falls on deaf ears. There’s no missing where this conversation is heading. Why beat around the bush? The faster we do this song and dance, the faster I can get the hell away from him.

  “Did you bring me over here to tell me you like me? Or were you seeing if you could nail me before you go off to college?”

  His upper lip curls into a half snarl, half evil grin as he pushes away from the wall to step closer to me. I resist the urge to move backward, even with the small trickle of fear running down my spine. I refuse to show any sign that his intimidation is rattling me.

  He gulps down the last of his beer and throws the cup on the ground. “Like you said today, we need to take chances before we all go our separate ways. You know you broke my heart the day you ended things with me. We could’ve had something, you and me.” He takes another half step closer.

  I roll my eyes, not caring if he can see the movement in the dark or not. “So, you thought the best way to get back at me was telling the whole school I was a virgin who barely knew how to handle a dick? Please,” I scoff. “I was just another possible conquest to add in your book. We had nothing in common, still don’t, and whatever delusion you’ve created in your mind, you need to unravel it. I’m not interested in you, and me rejecting you is the only reason we’re even talking now.”

  “You’re wrong.” He trails a finger down my arm.

  Disgust rolls through me. I smack his hand away and take a step closer to the corner of the house. This conversation is over. “I’m sorry you think we may have shared a special moment, but we didn’t. Take the large hint I’m throwing at you.”

  I don’t wait for his answer, ready to put some distance between us. I round the corner, feeling the nerves that are colliding in my stomach. A drink to settle them sounds good.

  I’m starting to regret Deb talking me into coming here tonight. I never liked these parties. Too much drama and bullshit happen when you corral a group of teenagers and get them drunk.

  I’m barely into my retreat when a cold hand grabs my arm and drags me back into the darkness. I’m shoved up against the side of the house, Ralph’s hot beer breath fanning over my face. This cannot be happening, is my first thought. The niggling of unease I felt earlier is now my primary emotion, but I try keeping up a fake bravado. I can see it in his eyes that my fear is what he’s after, but I’m not going to give it to him.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” I snap and shove him as hard as I can, which only moves him like an inch.

  A deranged smile forms, and I can see the cold parts of his soul in the depths of his pupils—they are blown wide with excitement. It’s at this exact moment—where the night goes from irritating to royally fucked—that I’m acutely aware that if I don’t figure out how to get away from him, Ralph will take this as far as he can, to get what he thinks he deserves.

  I could scream, but would anyone hear me over the music?

  How far would I get if I try and run?

  “You’re still the same stuck-up bitch you were two years ago,” he sneers. “And here I was trying to be nice and tell you
how I feel. But again, you stomp all over it like you’re too good for me. I’ll let you in on a little secret, it’s me who’s lowering my standards to your level of trash. I mean, your mother is a whore.” The last part comes out as a chuckle.

  He leans in and places his hands on either side of my head, caging me like a trapped animal. My stomach tightens, and bile is rising in the back of my throat. I knew this guy was bad business. Everything in me warned me to stay away, and here he is proving that I need to listen to my intuition. Guys like him have a special place in Hell. If I can just suck back the ball of fear in my throat, I’ll fight his ass until I have nothing left.

  I swallow hard, finally regaining my voice, which is now heavy with anger. “Fuck you, asshole.” Shoving at him again with everything I have causes him to take a half step back. Every cell in my body is vibrating, slamming together as the rage builds inside me, battling against the fear. I hate being reminded of who my parents are. Everyone seems to forget that it was my grandmother who raised me, not the pieces of shit that made me. I’m generally good about letting this kind of stuff roll off me, but for some reason the way Ralph is using it to degrade me pisses me off.

  His laughter grows louder once he sees that he’s getting to me. “That mouth of yours is nothing but trouble. But I do like my women a little feisty.” He leans down, and I mentally calculate my chances of bringing him to his knees again when he takes a step closer to me as if reading my mind. The hairs on the back of my neck raise at the wide sinister grin on his face. It's the last warning I know I’ll get from my intuition.

  I calculate my odds. I can continue to lash out with my words and hope he backs off. I can also head butt him in the nose, that will give me a chance to scramble away, provided I can remain upright after. A few more ideas flash through my brain, but before I can pick one and act on it, a voice—deep and commanding—has both of us turning our heads.

  “Back the fuck up before I remove you myself.”