Until You
Page 50

“And what is that?” I humored her.
“Oh, goodie.” She clapped her hands together. “You’re interested.”
“Do you see that girl over there?” She pointed across the bonfire to a redhead in short, black shorts and a fitted tank.
“What about her?” I asked, not sure where this was going.
“How about you, me, and her go back to your house?”
What? I blinked, not sure if I’d heard her right.
Did she just offer—
“I’ve already worked it out. She’s game. We can all play, or…” she lowered her voice, “you can watch.”
I closed my eyes and ran my hand down my face.
Jesus Christ. A f**king threesome. Was she serious?
My heart jumped, and I felt my jaw twitch with a nervous smile I didn’t let out.
A threesome was something I hadn’t done yet, and what guy wouldn’t want that?
An image of myself in bed with two girls flashed in my mind, and my stomach dropped when both girls looked like Tate.
I looked at Piper and then to the girl across the area, who was sexy as hell and giving me her “fuck me” eyes, and I wanted to punch something.
I looked to the ground, blinking with the realization that I didn’t want what they were offering.
In fact, I kind of felt like taking a bath thinking about it.
Christ.
I was going to hate myself for this someday.
I pulled Piper’s hands off me again. “Stop.” And I backed away.
“What?” she blurted out, her tone surprised and her eyes pissed.
I shook my head. “Just get home safely, okay?” And I walked away.
“Fucking enough,” I mumbled. And I went off in search of Tate.
I didn’t care if she was Ben’s date.
She was leaving with me.
I trudged through the dirt and wet leaves, keeping my ears peeled for any sound. After I’d run into a tipsy Ben—who admitted he’d lost his date—I’d darted into the woods, towards the parking lot, looking for Tate.
She wasn’t around the bonfire, and it’s not like she had many friends there.
Or anywhere, dickhead.
A loud, guttural moan echoed in the woods, and I twisted my head towards the wail.
What? Shit.
I started running, jumping over logs with my heart pounding so hard that it hurt to breath.
“Why are the guys at our school such dicks?” I heard a voice growl.
Tate.
I turned left and bounded through a mess of fallen branches and wet foliage.
“Shit!” I heard a male voice spout. “You f**king bitch!”
I peeled through the trees and came into a clearing of fallen trees and sawed off tree trunks. My chest heaved with every hard breath as I took in the scene before me.
Tate stood over the crumpled mess of Nate Dietrich as he lay in visible agony on the ground. He had one hand covering his eyes and one holding his crotch.
Motherfucker.
“Tatum!” I barked, more out of the sting of fear than the heat of anger.
If she’d attacked him, it was because she’d been threatened.
He’s dead.
She spun around, and I struggled to keep myself in check. Nate was already subdued, but I caught sight of her ripped tank top strap, and every muscle tensed.
“Did he hurt you?” I asked through nearly clenched teeth.
She placed a hand over her shoulder and torn shirt. “He tried. I’m fine.” She would barely look at me.
I slipped off my shirt and tossed it to her.
“Put this on,” I ordered. “Now.”
She didn’t rush to obey, not that I had expected her to, but my temper was up and God help her if she didn’t do what she was told.
Alone, in the woods. In the dark.
I wanted to throttle her for being so careless.
I walked to Nate, who still lay on the ground. “You have a poor, f**king memory, Dietrich. What did I tell you?” I bent down and got in his face.
My warning to him that day in class clearly hadn’t sunk in.
I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and hauled him up before slamming my fist into his stomach. He caved, hunching over, as all of the air was forced out of his body.
And I didn’t stop.
I punched and slammed, hit and gutted Nate Dietrich, pounding on his body and face until he was too done to do anything but take the abuse.
The ache in my hand vibrated through my bones and traveled up my arm as the full force of my temper descended on him.
Lowlife piece of shit!
He was bad news, but I wasn’t, I kept telling myself. There was a difference between Nate and me.
Nate had touched her.
I’d never done that.
He’d sexually harassed her.
My locker room thing was just to mess with her.
She’d told him time after time to stop.
I’d seen her cry, wanting me to stop.
And the more I hit Nate, the more I didn’t see his face anymore, but my own.
“Stop.” I heard Tate yell behind me. “Jared, stop!”
I didn’t want to stop until he was done breathing, but I was getting Tate the hell out of here. Now.
I yanked Nate by the bend of his elbow and threw him to the ground. “This isn’t over,” I promised, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bloodied eye, nose, and mouth. Blood lined the inside of his lips, and he lay crumpled on the ground, panting and groaning.
I looked over to Tate, whose eyes looked scared and chest rose and fell in fear.