Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(31)

At the mention of my aunt and uncle, I remind myself that I need to text them to tell them I’m okay. I won’t be able to do it in front of Brawler though. Maybe I can do it when I head into my room to change. He won’t come in when I’m doing that. Not judging by his response to our compromising position only minutes ago.

I hurry, washing the sweat off me and letting the hot water massage my tight muscles left over from the workout. I usually love to spend extra time in the shower after a hard workout, but I don’t have the luxury this morning. Not only did I have to share my bathroom time with someone else, but now I need to make sure I text my aunt and uncle without getting caught.

As soon as I get out of the shower, I dry off and wrap my hair in the towel to help dry it. I move in front of the sink and look up at the mirror. I’m about to wipe the fog off it but stop.

No way.

No fucking way.

There, in the glass, are two words written out in a quick scrawl.

Fucking beautiful.

My throat starts to close. My mind tries to rationalize it away. There’s no way Brawler wrote that. The person who lived here before me must have written that on the mirror and I just hadn’t noticed it yet. A sweet message for his girlfriend or wife.

Not for me.

Definitely not for me.

Despite the steam in the room, my body shivers. I grab another towel and wrap up with it, warding off the cold even though I damn well know my body’s reactions have nothing to do with this room being cold. It’s toasty in here.

It’s me. It’s my body responding to the words Brawler left for me.

I allow myself a moment to appreciate it, taking in his quick, easy handwriting, and then swipe the message off, leaving my reflection in its wake. I see me. The girl who lost her parents. I see someone who’s broken inside in more ways than one. Hell, there’s even bruising on my face so my exterior matches my interior.

The last memory I have of someone calling me beautiful is from my mother. That’s what parents are supposed to say, right? They’re supposed to build their kids up. Make sure they feel loved and special. My aunt and uncle are adequate guardians, but they’re not parents.

I take a deep breath and let it out. The heat of my breath threatens to bring the message back, so I wipe the mirror down again. I need to forget that happened, and if Brawler was smart, he’d forget it happened, too.

I make quick work of getting ready for school and then sprint from the bathroom to my bedroom with a towel around myself. There, I lock the door behind me and pull out my stashed cell phone. There’s a message there waiting for me today. Hope you’re well. Thinking of you.

They don’t know exactly what I’m doing here. Even adequate guardians would’ve told me there’s no way they’d allow me to take down a gang boss for retribution. Though the message is only two short sentences—six short words—I cling the phone to my chest. It’s nice to have a whole other world that’s apart from this one. It gives me hope for what my future could be. I just know that unless I sever this tether that’s keeping me here, keeping me sad and angry, I’ll always be in two places. I need to cut this thread from my life now, so it won’t affect me later on.

Miss you both, I text back. Everything’s fine here.

It’s another short and sweet message, but it gets the point across. I hurry up and silence the phone, putting it back in its hiding place before looking at my closet for something to wear. Once again, I’m caught between two worlds. If I wear the baggy clothes again, Rocket will put a stop to that. But how much do I want to show? Not skin-wise, obviously, but do I walk into school like I’m a part of the Heights Crew now?

Nerves roll through me because I have no idea how today is going to go down. Oscar and Brawler seemed to think that word would’ve gotten out that I’m Rocket’s girl already. Hell, there were a shitton of kids from school there yesterday. Maybe they’ve passed along the gossip.

I pick out a pair of well-worn jeans and an old band t-shirt. Middle ground works best. It’s not showing off everything I have, but it looks badass. I figure after the showing I gave last night, this might help with that persona. I sit on my bed and apply a little makeup to even out the bruises marring my skin, and then run my fingers through my hair. A quick check of the alarm clock tells me it’s about time to head to school, so I unlock my bedroom door and step out.

Brawler turns, a plate of toast in his hands. There’s nothing about him that says he left me that message. In fact, his face is hard, stoic. He holds up the plate to me, an offer, and I take it. He places two more slices in the toaster while I eat.

We eat in silence, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s asking himself if I saw his message or not. Or if he’s wondering if I responded, or what I think about it in general.

I think no one’s called me beautiful in a long ass time. I think I love his message.

I’ll never tell him though. And as far as I can tell, he’s not going to speak of it either.





12





The walk to school is uneventful, but as soon as we step onto school property, it’s a different story. People are side eyeing me, sizing me up. The guys are smirking like they know something I don’t. The girls look at me like they could pounce, but they don’t have the lady balls. At least not now that I’m attached to the Heights Crew.