His bruised little face looks around the crowd, and I know the minute he sees the punks. His body stiffens and fear or shame flickers momentarily through his eyes. For that look on his face alone, the fuckers should be suspended. I look to where he’s staring and know instantly whom my targets are. Seriously? I’m transported back twenty years in time and the fuckers could be interchangeable with those that tormented my years of school.
“Well, champ, it’s time to go prove a point.”
I urge the boys forward with my hands as I stand in the middle of the three of them, purposely moving as a solid unit. Mess with one of us, you get all of us. I can sense Ry’s apprehension as to how I’m going to handle this, but she really needs to give me more fucking credit.
I plaster an easy going grin to my face as we approach the boys. Gonna kill them with fucking kindness. “Hey, guys!” I say in greeting as the boys’ eyes widen like saucers and the shit-eating grins fade from their lips. “Hey, Aid, are these the boys that didn’t believe you were my buddy?”
“Yeah,” he croaks and looks up at me. And if I already didn’t love this fucking kid, the look on his face makes me love him even more now. Eyes startled. Freckles scrunching. Lips turning up at the corners in a disbelieving smile. Yeah, buddy, you’re more than worth sticking up for. It’s time to start believing it.
“Oh man!” I say turning back to dumb and dumber. “You should’ve seen Aiden on Sunday. I let him bring six of his friends, including Ricky and Scooter here…” I squeeze their shoulders to let them know they’re just as worthy “…with him to the track to test out the car, and boy were they the biggest help to me! We had so much fun!”
I can feel all three boys stand a little taller and I know that a bit of confidence has been restored in their damaged souls. They’ve still got a long way to go, but it’s a start.
“Too bad you guys aren’t friends of his or maybe you could have gone too!” It takes everything I have to not tell dumber to close his mouth because he’s going to catch a fly if he keeps looking at me like that. Then again, it serves him right for picking on the weak. No, not weak—after everything these kids have been through, definitely not weak. More like damaged. Yeah damaged but hopefully repairable.
Unlike me.
The school bell buzzes and it’s only now I realize the crowd around us. I’ve been too busy restoring the boys’ dignity to notice. And honestly, fuck if I care. I note the bystanders’ eyes flicker over my shoulder, and I have a feeling the dipshit authority is near. I don’t even have to check because I know the look he’ll have on his face already. It’s embedded in my memory from too many trips myself. I guess pissing off principals is one thing I’ll never stop doing whether I’m thirteen or thirty.
It’s time to make sure the crowd understands where I stand in regards to the boys. I ratchet my smile up a notch and wink at the bullies. “Bye, boys! Make sure you say ‘hi’ to my man Aiden here when you see him in class!”
They just continue to stare at me as The Suit uses his hands to physically guide them toward the front doors of the school. He then turns back to Aiden, Ricky, and Scooter. “Boys, you too,” he says in a monotone that makes me think of the teacher in Ferris Bueller.
I glance over at Rylee for the first time during this whole display, and I can see her fighting back a smirk. She just subtly nods her head at me when I ask her with my eyes if this is the prick taking sides. It takes everything I have to keep my temper reined in this time because the boys are still attached to my sides. Fucking judgmental asshole.
My smile is so fake it kills me. “One moment please, sir. I just need to say bye to my boys.” I go to face the boys but I can’t. I have to say something right here, right now. For the little boy in me always doubted and deemed at fault, for the hundreds of others like me, and for the boys beside me living it in the present.
I hang my head for a moment to make sure that my composure is nothing less than respectful. And that in itself is a fucking feat. “Next time, sir, it’d be best to remember that Aiden is telling the truth. It’s the bullies that need to be sent home, not good kids like Aiden here. He may not be perfect, but just because he doesn’t come from a traditional home, doesn’t mean that he’s at fault.” I stare at him, holding those flustered eyes of his as he listens—not just hears but listens—to the words I’ve said. When I see them register, I do the only disrespectful thing that I can and turn my back on him, dismissing him without further comment.
My smile changes from tight to genuine when I look at the three pairs of eyes looking up at me. It’s one thing to stick up for them with bullies that are the same age, it’s another thing when it’s done to an adult. I understand that more than anyone.
“I don’t think they’ll be bugging you anymore, Aiden.” I reach out and when I see his eyes accept my intention, ruffle his hair. “In fact, I don’t think anyone will be bugging you guys anymore. If so, you let me know, okay?” All three boys nod like bobble-head dolls, their minds and egos trying to comprehend what’s just happened.
“Time to get to class,” Ry tells them as she steps up beside me to watch them walk toward the doors, heads held high and pride in their posture. They reach the door, looking the principal in the eye and that alone fills me with a sense of right. Ricky and Scooter disappear through the door, but Aiden stops.
I immediately worry that he fears entering the school—years of belittling not fixable with one appearance by a guy like me—but when he looks up, his eyes meet mine and I see awe, clear as day. “Thanks, Colton.” I can’t help the feeling that twists within me. Two simple words but the way he says them implies so much more.
Rylee glances over at me as we walk back to the car. Pride is brimming in her eyes, and I swear to God something shifts and twists inside of me. A fucking foreign feeling. But fuck if I don’t want her to look at me like that again.
I get the boys understanding why I did what I did. But Rylee? She’s got to be assuming things that I’d rather remain hidden. She’s got to wonder what exactly it is that burns so deep within me that I still fear it every minute of every day. Even twenty-two years later.
Too bad she wasn’t around to save me way back then.
The question is, can she save me now?
“Why did you agree to come here if you don’t like coffee?” That in itself says volumes to me.
She denied me at the track even though her body said otherwise. I got a ration of shit from the guys for her being there too. They’re not used to a woman walking away when I ask her to stay. They thought it was the funniest fucking thing on the face of the earth, Rylee denying me.
And her reason for having to get the boys was a bullshit excuse. That much I know.
So she must be scared. Fuck, I’d be scared too after the shit I’ve pulled with her. Back and forth like a goddamn tennis match because my head’s so fucked-up that I want her but know I can’t give her what she needs.
The fucking problem is my wants are changing and I’m not sure just yet how to deal with that. Because I don’t want them to change. So I let her in more than anyone I ever have and then lash out because I can’t deal with the shit her being around churns up. The vulnerability of my past being exposed, my demons reawakened.
And yet she still called me when she needed help. Fuck if that call didn’t surprise me, but blowing off the Penzoil rep was worth it to be standing beside her right now.
Trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing because fuck if I know.
I study her profile, a soft smirk on her face as she contemplates my question while staring at the muffins in the glass case in front of us. She’s pretending to decide what to order, but I can tell she’s figuring out how to answer me. With honesty because despite the smiles on our faces there is still an underlying tension of unanswered questions between us, or with humor to try and add some levity.
Pick, Ryles. Set the tone for the rest of this conversation because I’m sure as fuck uncertain where to go from here.
br /> “I may not like the coffee part, but Starbucks has some damn good food that is oh-so bad for you.”
You have no idea how true that statement is, sweetheart. I shake my head, my smile more genuine now but her comment weaving into my thoughts. Telling me that she gets this. Gets that anything between us will be a beautiful disaster.
We move up in line, and I can hear the comments starting behind me and at the tables around us. My name is a hushed murmur and usually I’m cool with the attention, but right now I need it to be her and me. I need to figure out why I keep coming back to something that we both know is going to happen again, but this time I fear will either break me or devastate her.
And that’s a heavy fucking burden for a man to bear. I’d like to say I’ll walk away right now and save her the pain but know sure as shit—because I’m standing here—that I can’t. I’d like to think I’d sacrifice myself, take the hit my own demons will hand me, but fuck, I know how brutal that would be.
I’m not sure if I’m willing to face them in order to let this thing with her play out. And I know that makes me a man weaker than most but hell if I want to relive the horror that’s robbed my soul more than once in a lifetime.
But then again why in the hell am I even wasting time thinking shit like this that I’m never going to allow. Love’s not a possibility for me. Relationships have strings and expectations. Those are hard limits I won’t cross, can’t cross.
And yet here I am, curious what it is about her that I just can’t let go.
“What wo-would you l-like?” The barista stammers when she recognizes me as we step up and thank fuck for that because she pulls me from all of the crap I am overthinking.
Fucking Rylee is rubbing off on me with her reading too much into shit. I can think of other things I’d like to rub off on when it comes to her.
The image that flashes in my head is so very welcome and makes me chuckle and shake my head. I think the cashier catches the suggestive tone of my laugh and infers the direction of my thoughts because she blushes. She busies herself with the cashier buttons as she takes our order and I can’t resist, as we walk away I make sure to say thanks and wink before flashing a huge grin.
We’re lucky to find a table in the corner since the place is packed, and I enjoy the view of Ry’s ass when I pull her chair out before I sit down myself. We sit and stare at each other for a few moments, smirks on our faces and questions in our eyes.
“You know that after what you did today, you’ve most likely reached idol status with the boys now.”
I roll my eyes at her. A hero, I’m far fucking from that. If she knew what I was thinking in line, she’d see I’m more a coward than anything. Idols don’t hide in corners when monsters enter the room to steal things from them that can never be replaced. They fight back, they overcome, they escape and save the fucking day—not cower and cry and plead when pain is headed their way.
They don’t need to call to superheroes because they become one themselves.
I can’t answer her because I know the truth, so I avert my gaze and focus way too intensely on the muffin in my hand. I take a bite, pushing the ghosts back in their closet and finally look up to see her eyes fixed on where I just licked a crumb from my lip.
My thoughts vanish instantly as my dick stands up and takes notice of her physical reaction. She lifts her eyes to mine and we stare at each other for a moment, the buzz of the coffee shop allowing a comfortable silence between us despite the unspoken desire in both of our eyes.
“Ace.” The barista calls my name and unknowingly breaks our connection. I stand to get my coffee and smile at Rylee, letting her know this visual conversation is far from over. And hopefully my vision will get the sight of her naked and beneath me sooner rather than later.
The thought occupies my mind as I doctor my coffee and the need to have her again only intensifies as I sit back down in front of her. I take a sip, the drink scalding my tongue. “Now I can think clearly.”
And sitting here with her in front of me and the boys’ status redeemed at school causes all kinds of clarity. Like how I sure as fuck want to let her in a bit, see where this takes us.
I’m not sure how to do it or where to go from here.
I’ve got a whole cup of coffee to figure it out, though, and time’s a wasting.
Haddie’s game changer conversation with Colton on the phone is probably one of the most requested scenes from FUELED to be written from Colton’s perspective.
I enjoyed trying to figure out what was going on in his mind when he dealt with Haddie and her pull-no-punches attitude. I laughed at his reaction when he finds out Rylee is out drinking tequila.
We all rooted for Haddie in this scene in the original version, but this one adds a bit more to it when we know what exactly Colton was thinking.
Why does it fucking matter?
I pace the confines of the greenroom, restless and on edge.
Why should I care if she’s watching or not?
“Ten minutes, Colton.”
I whirl around at Kimmel’s production assistant peeking her face through the doorway, agitation giving way to aggravation. I just grunt a response, too wrapped up in my own goddamn head to say anything else.
Fuck! I wish I could yell it out! Get the pent up bullshit off of my chest. But I don’t. Can’t. It’s my own damn fault. My own fucked-up head ruling my life.
I’ve got to get it together and soon before I walk out on stage and make a fool of myself because my head is wrapped around something else. Someone else. Just like I wish my body was.
Fucking Rylee.
I shouldn’t.
I should.
I shouldn’t.
Aw, fuck it!
My fingers are dialing before I even give myself a chance to stop.
What the fuck am I doing? I want this but I don’t. Need her but don’t want to need her. Whiplash is an understatement to describe the fucking tug-of-war raging inside of me right now.
Man the fuck up, Donavan. Grab your balls back and put them firmly in place. Wanting to fuck her is okay. You’re calling because that’s all you want to do. Nothing else. You don’t need her. You don’t need anyone.
I keep repeating the words to myself, the lie so ludicrous no way in hell I’d even convince Baxter of it. Fuck. I’m about done with the pussification of my thoughts, finger hovering over the end call button when music blasts on the other line. I freeze.
“Rylee’s phone can I help you?”
I can barely hear her voice above the music and I’m immediately irked. And then I’m pissed at myself for even caring when I shouldn’t be because she doesn’t even really matter in the first place. Nice try, Donavan. Keep telling yourself that and you just might believe it.
“I’m looking for Ry. It’s Colton.”
“Who?” she shouts and I wince from the sound coming through the phone.
“Colton.” My patience is about to run out. Why the fuck is Ry not answering her phone? And where exactly the hell are they?
“Who? Oh hey, Colby!”
What? I stop pacing and grit my teeth. What the fuck is going on here? “Who’s Colby?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were Colby.”
“Not hardly,” I say, jaw clenched, anger bristling. Whoever the fuck Colby is, he’s going to wish he wasn’t Colby if I find him trying to talk to Ry again.
But this is just for sex. Yeah, that’s it.
“Who?”
And now I feel like I’m being fucked with. Does Ry not talk about me? Does whoever this person that’s close enough she trusts to answer her phone not know who I am? Impossible.
You called pit stop, fucker. No rings, no strings. She can do what-the-fuck-ever she wants. So why do I want to punch the mirror in front of me?
I force a swallow down my throat, hating that I care if she’s talking about me and hating that I don’t care even more. Fucking Christ. I’ve been voodooed. Fucking sucked in by her magic and I never even
knew it.
Uneasiness and disbelief crawls up my spine. I shake it off. No fucking way. There’s no way I’ve been taken by her goddamn pussy. Time to prove it.
“Colton Donavan,” I say, authority in my voice. Time to quit playing fucking games here.
“Oh, hiya, Colton, this is Haddie. Rylee’s roommate.”
Thank Christ, we’re finally getting somewhere. “Hi, Haddie. I need to talk to Rylee.” Need to? Why the fuck did I say I need to? I don’t need anything from her.
“Mmm-hmm. Well look, she’s a little drunk right now and a lot busy, so she can’t talk to you, but I’d like to.”
Drunk? Rylee? In a club on a weeknight? I’m so not liking the images in my head right now. Images like the fucking commercial I’m about to debut. Bodies grinding. Hands groping. Sexy clothes.
I can’t help the groan that falls from my mouth and fuck if Haddie doesn’t hear it because she laughs at me. Fucking laughs. I grind my molars and hope no one is grinding on Ry right now.
“So here’s the deal. I don’t know you very well, but from what I do, you seem like a decent guy. A little too much in the press from your shenanigans if you ask me as you make jobs like mine a little harder, but hey, no press is bad press, right? But I digress …”
“Thanks for the PR consult. Don’t think I asked.” I roll my shoulders as I look at the signatures of past guests on the walls and shake my head in frustration. Be nice. She’s the only way you’re going to find out what the fuck is going on. “Are you guys having something to drink with dinner?” I seriously just asked that? Fish much, Donavan? And then that laugh of hers again as if the joke’s on me.
Fuckin’ A.
“Wine for starters, but now we’ve moved on to shots. Tequila. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you really need to get your shit together when it comes to Rylee.”
Wait a minute. Tequila? Images flash in my head of the last time I saw Ry doing a shot of that shit. It was after she left me at the Merit Rum party. Stood at the bar, downed the shot like a goddamn pro, and then ran from me. My dick pulses at the memory of what came next though: possession, claiming, some of the best fucking sex of my life.