It happens quickly.
You are walking along, minding your own business when, you round the corner and suddenly your books are
on the floor and your butt hurts from the impact of the floor coming to greet it.
“Watch it.” Ryan scoffs, leering as you gather your fallen things with stiff shoulders because you know he is
staring but you don’t want to cause a scene so you try your best to ignore him, “Nice ass.” Students are
whispering but no one helps because to them you are a freak because your father is a Vampire and your mother a zombie raiser.
He blocks your path, eyebrow raised. He is tall and eleventh grader and you are only in Ninth grade, not worth much attention. He is in your English class and you see him at P.E often. He is the type of guy that girls throw themselves at, the type of guy who could really go to the NFL if he focused hard enough, or become a washed up has been who lives with his mom until he’s sixty and has five baby mommas with kids all named Jr.
You could guess which road he was on.
“Excuse me.” You keep your tone bland and stretch to your full four foot seven inch height. He only laughs
reaching out to touch your cheek. You slap his hand away with a glare, “Don’t touch me.”
You cannot fight because you promised Ma, but he is pushing you to your limits and if you fight him he will
get hurt. “I love it when you act tough.” He reaches for you then and a hand stops his descent. Robby shoves
him away from you roughly, his blue eyes flashing. They are in the same grade and Robby has filled out,
muscles coming into play, since he started playing football. His hair had been cut over the summer, short in
the back and a little long in front he was a receiver on the team, already scouts were looking at him.
He was also your boyfriend.
“Move your ass before I move it for you.” They stare at each other Ryan is ready for a fight, you can sense it.
Quickly you grab Robby’s hand tugging him back, “I forgot my book in my locker.”
Because if he gets in another fight he will be suspended from the team and Homecoming was this weekend. It
wasn’t fair for him to suffer from defending your honor once again, especially since you could have easily
kicked his ass being a black belt and all.
Ryan makes comments as Robby allows you to pull him down the hall, people are turning away disappointed
that there was no climax. When you are near the other exit on the south end you release his hand. He takes
your heavy stack of books slinging an arm over your shoulder with practiced ease, you blush and smile softly
still not use to being his
You are the envy of many.
“You should kick his ass one day.” He brushes a kiss over your head steering you down the steps and out into
the sunlight, his car is at the end of the parking lot. Faith and Delia will stay because she has practice and
Faith waits for Shi to finish weight training. But you have rehearsal in two hours.
“I don’t like fighting.” You pass a group of cheerleaders, poms in hand they eye you enviously flirtatiously waving at Robby who only nods; kissing your cheek again as if to make a point.
“Promise me Will that if he tries something you’ll kick his ass.” He is deadly serious, “Don’t give him a chance
to get you alone.”
There is something odd in the way he says it, “Why?”
He pauses by the hood of his black SUV running a hand through his hair, “I-just promise, I won’t be here all
the time, I’d hate for you to get hurt because you were afraid of getting suspended or something.”
“You know why I don’t like fighting, it’s not worth it. SO they drop my books-“
“People like him will end up doing major damage if you don’t stand up for yourself.” There is real distress in
his eyes, and when he grips your hand it is a little sweaty. “Did you see something?”
Because he is also psychic and sometimes you forgot he was also a little more than normal, when he fails to
say anything you know you are right.
“What?” It comes out braver than you feel. He shakes his head, “If he ever tries anything- kick his ass, if he
hurts you. If anyone hurts you Willow- I will kill them.”
“I’m serious, “his blue eyes are hard, “I will kill them if they hurt you.”
Them. His words make your skin cold and you are sure he’s seen something, but not enough to draw a solid
picture. There is a fine tremble in his hands; you give him a hug, tightly whispering against his hair, “I’ll kick
his ass, I promise.”