Brawler by Tracey Ward Page B

together. I kept that connection because it was the only one we had – physical. My mind was safely stowed away and my body had taken over.
    “Do I make you feel good, Kel?” she whispered.
    “Yes,” I panted.
    “I make you hot?”
    “You make me so hot.”
    “You don’t need anyone but me.”
    “No.” I was getting close. The world was going dark around the edges. I was losing focus. “I don’t need anyone but you.”
    She sat up and pushed her face close to mine, her lips brushing against my ear. She took the bottom of my lobe between her teeth and bit it gently in a move she knew would send me over the edge. “I love you,” she whispered roughly.
    “Oh fuck,” I groaned, exploding in her hand and tensing from head to toe. “Fuck, fuck. I love you. Fuck.”
    She fell back against the seat, smiling up at me happily.
    It wasn’t until I was home that night staring blankly at my ceiling and listening to the neighbors have a screaming match that I realized what I’d said. That I’d lied again.
    That I was screwed.
     
    ***
     
    “Where have you been?” the Asshole demanded.
    “Gym,” I lied calmly. I was getting good at it. It had been four days since I’d accidentally told Laney I loved her in the heat of a blurry moment that I could see all too clearly today. Four days and neither of us had mentioned it. She hadn’t said it again and I hadn’t had to either repeat my lie or tell her the truth. A truth that could not take us anywhere good.
    “Oh yeah?” Asshole asked sarcastically. “You feel big and tough? Are you getting ripped so you can finally be a man?”
    “I do it to stay in shape. You should try it.”
    He chuckled dryly, his laugh threatening to turn into a cough. “I’m plenty fit.”
    “It shows.”
    “Don’t be a smart with me,” he growled.
    I bit my tongue, hating the taste. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
    He turned back to the TV, but he wasn’t done with me. “You get a job yet? It’s been a month.”
    It’d been three months since I finished school, but that wasn’t what he was talking about. He was reminding me that it’d been a month since I turned eighteen and the checks from the government had dried up. I wondered what he’d do if his mom’s Social Security checks ever stopped coming. Throw her out on the street, probably.
    “No, not yet.” I thought about lying again, but instead of making it a habit, I told the truth. “I’m not going to get one.”
    “Oh no? You gonna start working the street? I know Mrs. Bessman down the hall would love to see you take your clothes off for her.”
    “No,” I said shakily, not recognizing my own voice. It sounded small. Afraid. “I’m going to college. I leave in two weeks.”
    He rose slowly from his chair, his eyes on me sharp as daggers. “How am I just now hearing about this?”
    “I don’t have to tell you anything. I’m eighteen. I’m my own man and I’m leaving.”
    “Like hell you are.”
    He took a step closer to me, and as his fists balled, mine did too. But I knew I couldn’t hit him. I couldn’t get into trouble again. I had worked all year to keep my nose clean and I was almost out. I was almost free. I had to keep it together. I had to keep my calm.
    “I am,” I said as forcefully as I could. It still sounded weak. “I’ve been accepted. I’m going.”
    “And how do you think you’ll pay for that fancy education?”
    “I’m smart. They’re practically paying me.”
    He laughed in my face. “Sure. Of course they are. Out of the goodness of their hearts they’re taking on some punk off the streets.”
    “No.”
    “You’re an idiot if you think you’ll trot off to this big fancy college acting all hot shit and blowing everybody away. You’ll fail just like you always do. You’ll fall flat on your face and come crawling back to me to take you in and I won’t do it, so you better think twice about leaving this house ‘cause once you’re out, you are never coming back