Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(15)

His gaze narrows at me, but then moves behind me, once again looking into my empty apartment. “No guardians again?”

“They work a lot.”

“They must have shit jobs.”

“Doesn’t everyone around here have shit jobs?”

His lips purse. Instead of responding, he pushes past me like he owns the place.

“What the fuck?” I growl.

He turns toward me, pushing the door closed to enclose us in this space. He checks the locks before turning a calculating gaze on me. “We have a problem.”

I try to keep still. I hope this is it. My chance to get into the depths with them, but in the Heights, who knows what this could be about? He could be pissed I said his mom’s cookies were shit. I don’t know. “You and I have a problem?”

“No, you have the problem.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Is this about Nevaeh because I really don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” I lie. My skin tingles at the prospect. Please. For the love of God, let me fight her.

“It was about Nevaeh, but it’s not anymore.” Brawler does a once-over as he shakes his head.

Well, fuck. I try not to look put out.

“There’s some shit you don’t understand about your new school. Even if you heard people whisper about it, you still don’t know shit. Trust me.”

I just stare, waiting for him to keep going, trying not to look at the ink on his forearms.

“In Rawley Heights, we have the Heights Crew. For lack of a better term, it’s a gang.”

“Okay…”

His jaw clamps shut. I can’t help that I find Brawler intriguing. I totally had him pegged wrong. Here I thought he was going to be a badass fighter, which I’m sure he is, but he’s more than that, too. Or maybe I’ve just done my part well, looking like a pathetic scared kitten, and he feels like he needs to warn me about the dangerous side of the Heights.

Still, it doesn’t add up. I’ve seen him around the other people in school. I’ve even watched him interact when I was gathering information about the Crew. He barely talks. He’s talked more to me than I’ve seen him talk to anyone.

Passing his thumb over his lip, he says, “Nevaeh took her beef with you to Johnny Rocket. Remember when I told you that if you got called out, you have to fight?” He waits for my nod, then continues. “After she took it to him, he agreed you’re fighting, but not with Nevaeh.”

This time, the look of concern that passes across my face is real. If not Nevaeh, then who? “And…?”

“Cherry.”

I rack my brain, trying to remember if I’ve come across the name Cherry, but I come up with nothing. “Does she go to our school?” I ask.

Brawler shakes his head. “Used to. Not anymore.” He runs his hands over his blond hair. “Fuck. I was hoping I’d have more time to introduce you to all of this, but for some fucking reason, you stick out to everybody.”

“Introduce me to what?”

“The fight ring,” he says, gaze meeting mine. The struggle in his blue depths is real.

“You already told me if people get called out, they have to fight,” I tell him, spilling out everything I’m supposed to know.

A low chuckle spills from his mouth, and for the first time since I’ve laid eyes on Brawler, his eyes are practically dancing. “It’s a lot more than that, Princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap. I hate that we’re talking about fighting and I’m being called Princess in the same damn sentence.

“I like it,” he says, shrugging. “I like it even more because you don’t.” I bite my lip at the look of fiery excitement in his eyes. He immediately drops his gaze to my mouth before continuing. “The fights are how the Heights Crew makes money. People can call people out, but you have to pay to fight. Sometimes with money. Sometimes with other things. It’s the betting that they make the big bucks on though. It’s made the Crew one of the wealthiest and most dangerous around.” He swallows. “If you’d stuck around, you would’ve figured this all out on your own. I’m giving you a crash course because you’re on the card tonight.”

“I’m what?” My eyes round. Excitement and uncertainty clash inside me.

“Unless you’re out,” he says. He looks around my empty apartment. My stomach tightens. It might be me, but I think he sees more than he should. He’s perceptive. He’s never just looking at the surface. If Brawler’s looking at you, he’s going deep.

“I can’t be out,” I tell him. “I live here now, and I don’t want to fucking move again.” The irony that I’m arguing to stay in this shithole is not lost on me. I’m probably the only one in this world who would pick this life over the other one waiting for me if I choose to go back to it.

I won’t until I get this shit done.

“Then you don’t have a choice. And when I say you don’t, I mean it. If you don’t at least show up and put up a fight, consider yourself enemy number one, Princess. We don’t play games here. You might have heard of bullying at your other schools. Maybe even witnessed it.” A dark smile stretches his face momentarily. “Ours is more like a hazing. If you survive, you can stay, and I do mean survive. There’s no PTA or administration who’s going to save you. The teachers don’t care. They’re scared, and if they’re not scared, it’s because they’re in the Crew too. There’s only two ways out of this shit you find yourself in. Fight in the fight. Or fight for your life. Both are going to suck, but at least if you show up to the fight, you have a chance of survival.”