Uppercut Princess (The Heights Crew #1)(66)

I swallow down a few mouthfuls and then put the glass down.

It’s a few more minutes before Oscar even says anything. “You want to tell me what that was about because I know it wasn’t about the bike. You liked that.”

“You wish,” I say.

“You have to open up to someone,” he says, trying again. “You know my background with the Crew. You can talk to me. I won’t say a goddamned word. Promise.” He puts up the scout’s honor sign.

“You were a scout?”

“Fuck no,” he says, his lips teasing into a smile.

I laugh at that. The easy banter makes everything that just happened feel even further away. Even with that reprieve, I try not to trust these boys. Especially not Oscar. He’s in the Heights Crew, and that’s all that matters.

“Fuck me,” he says, pacing around the room, hands diving into his thick head of dark hair. “I’m such a fucking sucker,” he mutters. He blows out a breath then turns toward me. His dark eyes light with passion. “Sometimes I fucking hate those guys.” He glowers. “You’re pissed off because I said I didn’t want you to fight. Do you know why I don’t want you to fight? Because I don’t want you to get hurt. You don’t belong in the Heights, Princess. That much was clear from day one. Yes, you’re badass. Yes, you’re strong. I’m not talking about any of that shit. I’m not even saying I can put my finger on why you don’t fucking belong here, it’s just a feeling I have in my gut.” He places his hand around his midsection, pulling it into him. “It’s a feeling I can’t fucking get away from, and I’ve learned to listen to my feelings. That’s why I don’t want you fighting. Because once you fight and win, you don’t have a fucking chance of ever getting out of here.”

His stormy eyes draw me in. Oscar isn’t what you see on the surface. Not at all. “What makes you think I want to get out?”

“I don’t think you want to. That much is clear. You want in or else you wouldn’t have said you’d take the fight. I don’t even need to know the fucking reasons, but what I’m saying is there are certain people who should be in the Crew and certain people who shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.”

My mouth goes dry. “And you should?”

His exterior starts to crack. “You already know the answer to that.”

“You don’t,” I say. “You don’t belong here either.”

“Some decisions are borne from desperation.”

“And you hate being fucking desperate.”

“More than anything in the fucking world,” he says, voice sure. “But I’ve been living in this arena since day fucking one on this Earth, and I don’t expect to get out of it now. There’s no fucking hope for me.”

Hope. There’s that word. Or in the Heights, it’s the lack of that word that’s like a shroud over the entire city. It’s fucking depressing.

“You’re better than this. Than them.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you, but I know you are.”

I shake my head. Ever since being here, I’ve felt exactly like them. I’m caught up in their business. I’m attached to Johnny at the hip, and some-fucking-times, I actually like it. I actually want to be next to him like some sick, fucked up kid with that syndrome that makes you want to be with the person who treats you like shit. “You don’t know a thing about me,” I tell him, my finger trailing over the bruising that’s just starting to appear on my wrists from Johnny’s tight hold.

“I get that, but there’s one thing people who grow up around here know right off the bat. Whether someone is worth their time or not. I knew you were worth my time as soon as you walked into school.”

Oscar steps forward. My chest tightens the closer he gets. He reaches out, placing a strand of hair around my ear. It’s like we’re back at the school all over again, hiding down an empty hallway, warring with our emotions.

“That makes me sound crazy, but I’m used to sounding fucking crazy. Did you hear the conversation we all had earlier?” His voice lowers to a low hum. “Fighting for a fighting territory. Sending an innocent girl into the ring to win our right to fight. Hell, K didn’t even ask you. He already had his heart set on you. We all fucking know that.”

“I’m not innocent,” I tell him, not sure why I’m choosing to comment on that part of his speech and not something else.

His lips tip up. “Just because you said that… it means you are.”

Oscar tracks his gaze across my face before pausing on my lips. His presence is commanding. The broken parts of him call to me just like Brawler’s do. My heart thunders in my chest as he moves closer.

“What are you doing?”

Oscar blinks, but he doesn’t pull away. He slides his other hand around me. “Showing you that just because I’m a part of the Crew, doesn’t mean I’m like the rest of them.” He swallows. “Or maybe I’m showing myself.”

His lips graze mine—a brush that calls up every surge of emotion inside me to the surface. He clings to me like I’m his anchor in a storm. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, he just leaves his lips there as we breathe each other in, holding one another in place.

“I forgot that I could still feel things,” Oscar says, his words seeping out of him like a secret he didn’t know he kept inside.