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Preston jerked away from him.
“Hey!” I hollered, drawing everyone’s attention, but it was Preston’s wet eyes I sought.
Fucking red hazed my vision over the embarrassment and pain reaching out toward me.
Knowing I couldn’t really wreck Shipley’s face and get away with it, I simply barreled forward. I used my linebacker body rather than my hands to send him crashing into his asshole buddies like they were a couple of guys on the football field.
“Don’t fucking touch what doesn’t belong to you!” I growled as the three guys slammed into the lockers behind them.
One cursed while Shipley straightened, brushing himself off like my touch had soiled his starched button-down. “Carrottop is yours?” He snickered.
“Damn right he is,” I shot at him before grasping Preston’s shoulders and giving him my full attention. “You okay?” I whispered, uncaring my back was to the three bullies. I hoped they tried to take me so I could claim self-defense as reason for sending all three to the floor.
Pink coated Preston’s cheeks as he nodded.
“Come on.” I helped gather up his things as the small crowd around us dispersed, the three assholes included, unfortunately. They muttered beneath their breath about faggots and my stupid accent, but I couldn’t help who I was.
Fuck them and their elitist, homophobic bullshit.
All that mattered was Preston.
Arm slung over his shoulder, I glared at the few kids still hanging around. “Don’t you have classes to go to?” I barked, giving them my harshest glare.
They scampered away, and I squeezed Preston tight against me.
He melted into me, and Quad-B flanked his other side.
“That was so cool!” Quad-B whisper-hollered, his voice giddy. “You’re like a brick wall! A…an oak tree! Damn, I wished I had your height and muscle.”
I preened a bit, thankful as fuck I had both of those in spades.
The better to look after Preston.
We stopped at the door to his next class he had with Quad-B, and I dropped my arm to face my little stepbrother. “You going to be alright?”
He gazed up at me like I hung the damn moon to chase away the night’s darkness.
I fake-punched his shoulder before giving it a quick squeeze like I always did, hoping to ease the strange ache in my chest.
His smile wobbled, but at least his tears had dried. “Thank you, Drake.”
“Anything for you, kid.”
“Not a kid,” he muttered what he always did, even though I’d explained that calling people that regardless of their sex or age was a Boston thing.
“This is last period,” I said, walking away backwards since I was going to be late for class and couldn’t hang out any longer. “Meet me here when it’s over—I don’t want you leaving the building without me.”
He nodded, his shy smile still in place.
Fuck, Preston was going to break hearts when he got older.
Jaw clenching, I spun on my heels and hurried to class. That ache in my chest lingered long after the bell rang, and I made excuses for being late to geometry.
The way Preston had stared at me was a lot like how I felt for him, even though I couldn’t exactly put it into words. But Preston was just a kid even though he claimed he wasn’t. He looked up to me like I was some sort of superhero or such shit.
Fucking heart eyes and all, but we were stepbrothers.
I needed to remember that.
