Uppercut Princess: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 1) by E. M. Moore

Author:E. M. Moore [Moore, E. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

16

The next morning, Oscar’s still with me. I tell him to take off because he has to attend practice to be eligible to play in his game. He hesitates, but eventually, I push him out the door. If Johnny realizes he left, I’ll — Well, we’re just going to have to hope he doesn’t realize he’s left.

As Oscar walks out of the apartment, a genuine smile lighting his face, he looks about as real as I’ve seen him yet. He’s fake when he walks around the school like his shit doesn’t stink. He’s fake when Nevaeh plastered herself all over him. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want any of that.

It makes my heart hurt to think how trapped he is.

No wonder why I’ve felt like he’s like me. We’re both trapped. The only difference is, I plan on getting the fuck out.

I’m not alone for long. Just enough time to shower and think about how I’m going to spend my Saturday even though I should’ve known it wasn’t mine to plan. The door to my apartment opens, and I peek out of my bedroom to see who it is. A rough looking guy with long hair moves a loveseat into the room. “Hey, whoa,” I say, not recognizing the guy who’s currently turned away from me. “What are you doing?”

He ignores me, but Brawler pushes through holding the other end. “New furniture,” he says in explanation.

“New furniture?” My mind starts to race. I didn’t order furniture. What the—?

“Rocket,” Brawler says as they place the loveseat down in the area where we trained only yesterday. He bends over to push the loveseat against the wall. Bandages wind around his neck, and I suck in a breath. Before I can ask him about it, he stands and looks to the side of me instead of right at me, and asks, “Is this good?”

I shake my head. “What’s going on?”

“Rocket,” Brawler says again, turquoise eyes still avoiding me. “He told us to pick up this furniture and to drop it off for you.”

The other guy, who’d left, comes back in carrying a short table and plops it in front of the loveseat. Brawler claps him on the back, and the guy leaves. I stare at the stuff in shock. It’s clearly a set. A nice one. The coffee table is squat with a beautiful cherry wood. The loveseat is a dark gray microfiber.

“He probably realized you didn’t have much,” Brawler says, his voice tight.

“Nobody does.” I’d picked just the old armchair out because I knew no one would have very much, and I wanted to blend in. Plus, the more money I keep in my getting- out-of-dodge fund, the better.

“He doesn’t want you to be like everyone else.” After a heavy pause, he says, “It’s brand new. We picked it up at the furniture store across town in Pedro’s truck.”

“It’s nice,” I mumble, eyeing it and not knowing what to say. I’m not used to this. Whatever Johnny is, I can’t say

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