Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (read with me .TXT) 📗

eyes for a second, and when they open, the shift happens. I’m no longer me. He’s no longer him. None of these people are here. We are at war, and I’m prepared to make him bleed. Tripp’s quick footwork should scare me, but a couple of fake lunges shows me he favors his left side. When I swing one more time, I go full force, knocking him on his ass. His head cracks against the cement, but it doesn’t faze him.

“Here we go,” I whisper in his ear as I slam on top of him.

My fist rains down, over and over again. The crack of bone on bone combines with the heat of our blood splattering on my shirt, fueling the adrenaline coursing through my body. I stand, hanging onto his shirt to lift him off the ground. When I do, he swings his left around, knocking me down.

“Now, this will be a fight,” I croak.

We claw our way to each other, rolling side to side, each landing a few hits here and there. Both of us on the defense doesn’t make for a good fight. We shove away from each other, taking a second to collect our breath. Once we’re satisfied, neither of us hold back, running full speed to meet in the middle.

My right shoulder takes several hits, telling me he knows about my injury.

No moral compass inside the ring.

“Fuck!” I scream, pressing my chest into his until we’re out of the circle. The crowd parts to make room for us.

Tripp catches onto what I’m doing and grabs a piece of piping from a cement ledge. He lifts it, ready to whack me. I dodge and snatch it in time to yank it from him. I have no intentions of killing this kid, so being careful is important.

I slam it into his stomach, then toss it into the dark part of the warehouse where it will stay if I have a say in it.

“Low blow, DuPont.”

“You’re the one who said no rules,” he counters.

He’s right. I did say no rules. No rules.

I spring forward, connecting my fist square to his eye. It swells immediately. I jump on him and rain down punch after punch, alternating each side. At some point, his body goes limp, but I can’t stop my hands from hitting him again.

Above him, Delaney appears, worry on her face. Is it for me or him? Of course, it must be for him. He’s the one being beaten into the ground. How nice it would be to have someone worry about me for once.

“He’s done!” Richards yells, elbowing me. I remain unmoved, sliding down Tripp’s body until I have full clearance to his ribs.

Marek walks into the makeshift ring and punches Richards in the face.

“What the fuck is that for?” Richard shoves Marek with one hand while cradling his jaw with the other.

“I don’t like you,” Marek says nonchalantly.

“Breaker, stop!” Delaney yells, gripping my arm before another blow connects.

I stand abruptly, flinching at his lifeless body. Anger mixed with disdain is a heady emotion. The crowd cheers. A few girls grimace as their eyes land on my chest. I’m covered in blood and sweat, mixing together on my sticky shirt.

“I’d say we have a winner here,” Marek announces, shoving Richards further away from us. “Don’t move.” He jabs a finger at him.

As I work my way through the crowd, I catch a look of astonishment and surprise on everyone’s face. I spin to see what has them spooked. Tripp is on his feet, sprinting towards me.

Delaney does something completely stupid and jumps in front of him.

“Tripp, he won.” She spins on her heels, blocking him behind her. “Did you have to go so far, Breaker?”

I grip her arm and jerk her close enough that her precious Tripp’s blood stains her blouse. “He probably has a concussion. Might want to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep right away. If he starts vomiting, take him to the emergency room.” Ready to put distance between us, I walk away, but turn when I’m halfway out of the building. “And yes, I did. You can not like it, but he challenged me.”

“You don’t even want me anymore!” she shouts.

The crowd silences at her words.

“The question was never if I wanted you, baby girl. The question was always going to be if you were too scared to want me back.” I rub the sticky blood from my lip with my forearm before I’m engulfed by the crowd.

******

“That was quite the show tonight, Davenport.” Max grabs a beer from the fridge, holding it up in a congratulatory manor. He opens it and guzzles the liquid, reminding me how damn thirsty I am. “Want one?”

I take it like it’s my prize for the fight, popping the tab and placing it to my mouth.

The front door flies open.

“Looks like you’re in trouble.” Max slaps my shoulder while passing me to get to the porch. Red embers burn in the darkness, suddenly giving me the urge to smoke.

I follow Max out, shutting the door behind us.

“Never pegged you to be a scaredy cat, Davenport. Running from a girl is unlike you.” Max’s joke makes a couple guys from the lacrosse team laugh.

“Being smart doesn’t make me scared. She’s going to filet my ass, if given the chance.” My eyes scan the length of the house. The larger-than-life glass windows make it easy to see what’s happening inside, while staying hidden outside.

“Want some?” Max offers me an unlit joint. “You probably need this more than any of us.”

“I never say no.” I take it from him and dig the lighter from my pocket, lighting the end, while sucking in the one thing that’s never turned its back on me.

I’ve been given the drugs are bad speech. I understand the risk, but sometimes I need a way to unwind. I’ve been smoking weed since I was twelve. It’s not exactly something to be proud of, but it’s something everyone does at parties. We don’t give it a second