Need You Tonight. Roni Loren

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      FIVE

       1996

      Kaden Fowler sat in a shaded spot with his back against the grimy brick wall of Henley High’s recreation building, hoping to blend into it. The rest of the junior and senior class were either still inside the cafeteria eating or were gathered in small groups around the main yard, claiming their piece of concrete or grass and trying to impress each other.

      Kaden never did either here—try to impress or eat. After one too many fatass and oink-oink comments in junior high, he’d learned to fill up at breakfast and then wait until dinner to eat again. Even after he’d shot up six inches over the last year and was more bulk than chub now, the jerkoffs who’d teased him then wouldn’t fail to remind him of his former fat-kid status. Once branded as such, it never went away. And if they didn’t pick on that, they’d go after his other obvious weakness—his stutter.

      He pulled the latest Stephen King novel and his Walkman out of his backpack, putting the headphones over his ears, and turned to the place he’d marked in the book. But before the guitars could even kick in on Metallica’s “Until It Sleeps,” a lilting laugh cut through the music and carried his gaze up and across the yard. The minute his eyes landed on her, his stomach tightened into a fist of familiar longing.

      Tessa McAllen twirled around, showing off some cheerleading move to her gaggle of friends. Her light brown hair fanned out around her, and the little spin made her skirt flit up a bit, revealing a golden swath of upper thigh and the edge of what looked to be pink panties.

      Pink panties. Fuck. Me.

      Kaden grimaced and shifted his weight, willing his body not to respond to the sight. And putting extra effort into forcing his mind not to draw in the rest of the picture of what was beneath her skirt. God, he’d imagined that so many times it probably qualified as some diagnosable mental illness. And if he let his thoughts go there now, he may as well drop out of school and go on the lamb. Because sporting a boner in the fucking schoolyard would be an unredeemable humiliation to come back from.

      After she finished her demonstration, her boyfriend, Doug, slid his arm around her and gave her a discreet pat on the ass. Kaden wanted to break every bone in that fucker’s hand. It’d take care of two things at once—without that hand Doug couldn’t touch Tessa like that and he wouldn’t be able to throw a damn football again until the season was over. His daddy’s money couldn’t buy that back for him. Boo-hoo. The king would be ousted.

      The morbid thought made Kaden smile.

      “Hey, what the fuck are you grinning at, asshole?”

      Doug’s loudmouth best friend, Quincy, had been hanging in the group with Tessa. But now the guy’s focus was solidly on him. Kaden barely resisted flipping the dude off and looked back down at his book, pretending the music was too loud for him to hear.

      But, of course, the idiot couldn’t let it go. He ambled over, the group trailing behind him like a pack of dogs following a scent—in this case, the scent of potential drama and humiliation, the most enticing of all here at school.

      Quincy peered down at Kaden, his bug eyes making him look like a pissed off pug. He kicked the front of Kaden’s Doc Martens. “Hey, I’m talking to you, K-K-Kaden.”

      A few of them laughed at the old joke. Tessa didn’t. She had this cute little frown line between her brows that he wished he could reach over and smooth with his thumb. He didn’t think that’d be appreciated though. So instead, he shoved his book in his bag and stood, not saying a word. He’d worked hard to beat his childhood stutter, but when he was nervous, it came back like a fucking horror movie villain who wouldn’t die. So he’d learned to keep his mouth shut when at all possible.

      Not that he was nervous about shit-for-brains Quincy, but Tessa … Well, he’d probably forget how to speak the English language if he tried to say anything to her. Once he was up on his feet, he was looking down at Quincy. God bless that unexpected six inches of height. At least something had gone right this year.

      “So what’s the smile for, big boy?” Quincy asked, dialing up the menace in his voice, but backing up an inch. “You wouldn’t be looking at Douggie’s pretty girlfriend would you?”

      Heat rushed upward, and Kaden prayed it wouldn’t make it to his face. “N-n-no.”

      Fuck! Why did his body have to rebel on him at the worst goddamned moments? Blushing and stuttering. He should just hand over his balls now.

      “N-n-no?” Quincy teased.

      “We all see how you look at her,” Doug said, stepping next to Quincy.

      “Guys, stop it, okay?” Tessa said, her gaze darting away from Kaden’s. “Leave him alone. The bell’s about to ring.”

      “No, babe,” Doug said with that smarmy, I’m-better-than-you tone that seemed to be his default. “I need to look out for you. I don’t want some freak staring you down and thinking God knows what. You see the kind of books he’s always carrying, how he dresses. Sick fuck.”

      Her jaw clenched. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

      That was a lie. He did. But he wasn’t thinking sick thoughts. Well … depended on one’s definition of sick he supposed. “Why would y-you care if I look at her? Threatened?”

      Quincy snorted, and Doug gave Kaden a curled-lip once-over. “By a fucking fag with long hair and thrift store clothes? Hardly.”

      Kaden smirked. “Well, if I’m a f-f-fag, then you have nothing to worry about. And maybe I’m l-l-looking at her because I feel bad for her. She has to deal with your sorry ass.”

      With that, Kaden shoved past Quincy and made his way through the group. If they were smart, they’d let him go. Because he worked hard to stay out of trouble. Dealing with his stepdad any time he stepped out of line was more trouble than it was worth. But if those pricks laid their hands on him, he’d fight back. And though he probably wouldn’t win since he didn’t push weights every afternoon like those guys, he was feeling mean enough to fight dirty and inflict some damage before they took him down. Part of him hoped they’d try.

      He walked to the main doors without looking back. No one came after him.

      Maybe those douchebags had a few brain cells left after all.