Chapter 16 #2
Tate looked up at me, earnestness shining in his eyes. “But he got a lot of heat for it, so many people booed him and told him it wasn’t cool, and that he was a dick. He won’t do it again.”
No, he won’t.
“He learned his lesson,” Tate told me, believing every word. “It’s the second semester, and he’s getting better every day. Some days I don’t even notice him.”
“Are you stupid?” I snapped. “He’s not getting better.
He isn’t learning anything. He’s getting shut down by his peers, and that’s what’s keeping him quiet.
Not his change of attitude. Not his intent to not fucking bully you.
It hasn’t gone away. He just doesn’t have the same audience he used to.
” I forced myself to lower my voice. Getting stressed about Tate’s bully only upset my brother.
“Did he do anything other than name calling?”
Tate shook his head, not meeting my eyes. He sighed. “You don’t have to interrogate me every call.”
“You don’t have to answer like you’re under oath.” I softened my tone. “Tate, just tell me. I’m far enough away that I won’t jump in my car and kick his ass tonight.”
“Yeah, tonight.” He gave a small smile. “It’s tomorrow or the next day I worry about.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t promise how I’ll feel tomorrow.” I waited a moment for my brother to relax. “Tell me.”
“He punched me in the back. Maybe. I dunno . . .”
The screen went very still in my hand.
“It could have been him, or someone else, as we left class. It’s like a stampede leaving general relativity and cosmology class, and the hall becomes quite crowded really quickly.”
I didn’t hide my smile. “I can’t imagine why,” I drawled.
I thought of the fucker Brock Bronson and how the fuck he managed to get into the same school as Tate, which pissed me off.
His father had money and was an alumnus or some shit.
I had no doubt a shitload of green had crossed the palms of the administration to get that fuckhead of a son into that school.
“You okay?” I asked Tate. My brother was a clever guy. He had terrible social skills, and common sense was as elusive to him as his brain capacity was to me. But he was a good guy. A kind guy. But a timid guy.
Bullies love timid people. Nothing to make you feel bigger than beating down the person you know won’t fight back. Well, I’m not the fucking little guy. I’d kicked his ass before, and it seemed like he needed a reminder.
Did that make me the bully? No. I pick on guys my size. Brock Bronson was my size and liked to throw a punch at people who didn’t hit back.
I hit back.
And I hit back harder.
That feeling of restlessness returned, and I knew that I really needed to get to the gym and either spend a good hour with the bag or find a good sparring partner.
“You tell anyone?” I asked.
“I don’t need you calling my dean.”
“That wasn’t what I said.”
He studied me through the screen. He knew me well enough to hear what I hadn’t said. “I can handle it,” he said.
I believed him. That was the problem. I’d believed him before — believed his shrug, his ‘it’s fine,’ his stubborn refusal to let me step in. I’d given him space, and Tate had sat on it alone for too long before I found out what had actually been happening.
“I know you can,” I replied smoothly, not letting him see my doubts.
He tipped his head slightly. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Where your eyes go flat, and your voice becomes patronizing.”
I forced myself to soften. “Relax. I’m not flying out there to rearrange a physics lab,” I said evenly.
He grinned faintly. “Good. Because that would be mortifying.”
“If things escalate, you tell me.”
“If they escalate, I’ll handle it.”
I let that pass. He’d always been clever. Always faster than the rest of the room. He didn’t need me stepping in and turning it into something bigger than it was.
But I’d also learned what happened when you ignored small cracks.
“Tate.”
“What?”
“Don’t let it simmer to a boil.”
He tilted his head again. “You think that’s what I’ll do?”
Yes. “I think you internalize.”
He smiled, slow and knowing. “Pot, meet kettle.”
I exhaled through my nose, and his smile grew bigger. Thankfully, Tate changed the subject, and I rolled with it.
It stressed him out to think of Bronson. He’d had too many beatings, too many times being tossed into the trash. Or his books torn, his backpack burned or dumped down the toilet after someone had taken a shit, his assignments ripped to pieces in front of him.
Too long before he’d told me, and I could put a stop to it.
“Have you met anyone yet?” Tate asked me suddenly. “A lady friend you might want to tell me about?”
“A lady friend? How polite,” I teased him. “No, I’ve no time. You know this.”
Tate blew a raspberry. “Well, your roommates do the exact same schedule as you, and they both have fine-looking ladies on their arms.”
Of course, he followed their social media profiles. “You keeping tabs on me, Tate?”
He grinned. “I thought it was time for some role reversal.”
“Cut it out, stalker. I’ll tell you about any lady friends when and if there are any.”
He was content with that answer. “I have to study.”
“Alright, remember to sleep,” I told him seriously. “Zombie genius is so overdone in the physics undergrad program.”
“You’re a hoot, Noah.” He flipped me off and hung up.
“A hoot,” I mumbled as I stood up. “What teenager says hoot?”
I stretched and looked around my room. I needed to study, but I was restless. I didn’t want to hang out with Dustin. I wanted to do something, but do it alone.
Fight.
Not a ring. Not anything stupid.
Just something that pushed back.
I didn’t want to get caught, though.
I didn’t have enough time to really explore this college. I arrived and went straight into the training program, then the season started. The season was intense, in the best way, and then came the playoffs, and finally the championship.
I’d been to Halston, the neighboring town, once. Maybe twice. I hadn’t had a chance to explore.
I slipped on my sneakers and cracked my door open a fraction. The living area was empty. Grabbing a hoodie, my keys, and my phone, I closed the door behind me and made my way quickly to the main door.
Dustin’s car key sat on the counter. I stared at it for a second longer than necessary.
Borrowing it wasn’t technically stealing.
He’d understand.
I slipped it into my pocket.
By the time I stepped outside, the night air had cooled. The campus looked peaceful. Quiet. But I knew better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.
I walked to where Dustin had parked his car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.
I needed an escape, just for tonight. I didn’t need a destination.
I just needed to move.