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“Move.” I see Harrison mom-arm her, casting her aside so he can equally get to me, but he touched her and it’s over.
Black.
It’s all I see.
I feel my fists make contact with his body, the blurred yells at people cheering and arguing for this to stop, but he put his hands on my girl.
Mine.
I’ve been stupidly saying that for years to get my head to this space. My possessiveness has been reaching a new high and I don’t know how to get that thing to calm down. To chill out. I’m not entirely equipped for the level of insane—because I can’t think of how else to describe it—that enters my body and takes over everything.
A small hit, like one of a child’s, hits my tricep as my right hand plows into Harrison’s head. Then another.
“Asher Clark, if you don’t stop it!”
Magnolia again.
Like a switch, my body deactivates its assault on her ex, and I steer my narrowed eyes to her, finding her next to my two buddies, Tom and Victor.
In tight blue jeans and a white tee that says weapon of mass creation on it, I feel my body relax that she’s not injured. Her rosy cheeks shine brighter now that she’s scolding my buddies for keeping her away and on the sidelines.
“Get off me!” I hear Harrison bellow out, receiving Magnolia’s hazel eyes until I’m needily stepping in front of her to block off any view of him.
“You called?” I drawl, watching her eyes widen before they cast into slits.
“Asher, what the hell are you doing?” She props her hands on both her hips and fixes me with her most withering stare.
It’s fucking adorable.
Cupping her elbow, I jerk my head for Tommy and Victor to get the hell out of my way and guide her to the nearest hallway that’s not filled with on-lookers and noisy ass students.
I need air.
Away from everyone.
Shoving through the first set of doors, I’m met with the cool fall air, which is unusually warm, a set of trees turning orange and red catching my attention as I pivot and get into Magnolia’s space.
“Don’t ever step in the middle of a fight again,” I leer, allowing my anger to seep through my brain first before I talk about other things that have been on my mind. The ones that include when I had her pinned against a set of books in the library and sat next to her at the bowling alley. “Do you hear me, Magnolia Marie?”
“Excuse you,” she snaps, not intimidated at all by my six-foot-one height, the muscles that outline every single crevice and dip of my Northview High shirt. “Don’t drag me somewhere and think you’re going to yell at me, Asher Clark. You don’t tell me what to do.”
“Baby,” I emit, my tone teeter-tottering on the brink of lifting her and showing her exactly what I’m going to be telling her to do and knowing that it’s not the way to Magnolia's heart. I can trick her into kissing me, but I want more than that. I want everything. “Pretty soon, you’re gonna love it when I tell you exactly what to do.”
Her hazel eyes don’t steer nor falter from mine when she deadpans with, “Your charm is only gonna take you so far—” I’m in her space before she can even bullshit another word.
Our chests brush, our exhales shutter, and I’m one moment from making her skip class while I work that so-called charm on her.
“I respect you, Mags. In fact, I backed off when Harrison stole you away from me. I waited, waited, waited some more for you to see that he was a fucking tool, thinking that one day you were gonna see me. I’d love to know why you won’t let me take you on a date. It can’t be because you don’t like me.”
“It’s…I just don’t date football players.”
My brows furrow. “You just did.”
“And that worked out well for me. He fucked Samantha behind my back.”
“Didn’t you hear me when I said he was a fucking tool? You seriously don’t know, do you?”
She rolls her eyes. “You already told me. I spoke to Dad about it, and it’s fine, like you said.”
