The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4) Becca Steele (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

older, he had on faded jeans and a dark blue T-shirt with some kind of round logo on it in red. When he caught my eye, he smiled and pushed off the wall, heading towards me.

As he approached, I wiped my palms on my leggings, suddenly nervous and second-guessing my decision. Should I save my first kiss for Weston?

It only took me a couple of seconds to make up my mind. He’d kissed plenty of girls, and I needed to wow him.

“I saw you checking me out.” The mystery boy smiled again when he got to me. His whole vibe was unthreatening, and he sort of reminded me of Harry Styles, so I relaxed and called on my sparse acting skills to play it cool.

“I saw you checking me out, actually.”

He laughed at that, taking another step closer. “You’re funny. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Imogen. And I’m not from around here.” I borrowed the name of one of my classmates, knowing that even though it was clear he didn’t know who I was, he was likely to be aware of my dad’s name and might put two and two together.

“Nice to meet you. The name’s Bobby.” Without pausing for breath, he continued. “Now we’ve got the introductions out of the way, why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”

In reply, I inclined my head, and he took my hand, leading me out of the lounge and into the back of the house. He kept going, through the tiny, crowded kitchen, and out of the back door into the outside space. The houses here were all terraced, with tiny, paved yards and gates leading into an alley that ran along the back of all of the houses in the street.

Glancing around the yard, which was mostly full of people talking and smoking, he paused for a minute, then headed in the direction of the gate. Sliding the lock to open it, he eased down the latch.

If I’d been paying more attention to my surroundings rather than focusing on the fact that I was about to kiss a boy for the first time, I might have thought the way he inclined his head at the guy standing in a shadowy corner of the yard was a little strange. Then again, I might not. I couldn’t torture myself with the what-ifs.

Out in the cold, dark alley, he gripped my arm lightly. “Come on, sweetheart. This way.” He tugged me towards the far end of the alley, which was essentially a dead end at that point in time since it led to one of the entrances to a park, and the gates were locked at dusk every day.

“I-I don’t know.” I hesitated, stopping dead.

Behind me, there was the sound of a pebble being kicked.

Dread crawled up my spine.

I turned slowly, as Bobby’s grip on my arm tightened.

A shadowy figure stepped forwards.

What happened next came in flashes. A hand over my mouth. The noises of the party, still loud in the alley, muffling my cries. Calloused, dirty fingernails. An arm around my throat. Falling to the floor, with a body pressing me down, sneering, “Is this what you fucking wanted?” The cold, grimy cobbles beneath me. My futile struggles, followed by numbness.

Dimly, I registered the sound of shouting, and the pressure on my body was suddenly gone.

“Fuck.” The voices sounded close to my ear as I drifted in and out of conscious thought.

Blackness descended, sudden and blissful.

The rest of the night and following day was a blur. I remembered a kind female doctor speaking to me, carefully helping me to lie on my bed back at home, which for some reason smelled of antiseptic, paper crinkling under me as I lay down. My mum, bursting into tears and hugging me tightly to her like she’d never let me go. Scrubbing my body in the shower over and over again until my skin was raw and dotted with pinpricks of blood.

No matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how raw my skin was, I still felt dirty. Tainted. Unclean.

In the aftermath, I built up a picture. Lying on my bed two days after everything had happened, my mum told me all that she knew as she stroked through my hair with familiar, comforting movements. Every now and then, she’d glance down at my thighs and catch her breath at the finger-shaped bruises there.

There had been two guys. They’d been stopped mid-assault by the arrival of James Granville and his cousin, Tim Hyde. Our families had a bit of a rivalry going on, but at that moment, I’d never been more grateful for them. As they approached, the guys had run away, and although Tim had given chase, he was unable to catch them. James had carried me to his car and driven me home, where my mum had been alone as my dad and Cassius were away on a father/son bonding experience.

Young, scared, and alone, it was a relief to let my mum deal with the burden. Estella Drummond may have been small in stature, but she was a tigress when it came to defending her family.

“Never underestimate a Drummond woman.” On the third day following the assault, she swept into my room, with her version of armour on, aka a tight dress, impossibly high heels, and immaculate hair and makeup, her features set in a severe look. “I know you’ve been adamant about keeping this quiet, so as not to affect our family name, but we’re not letting this go. I’ve spoken to a friend, and these…” She paused, her voice wobbling slightly before she took a deep breath. “These animals won’t be bothering anyone again.”

Relief swept through my entire body, and I began to shake. My mum crossed the room to me and pulled me into her arms as we both cried together.

Afterwards, I begged her not to tell Cassius or my dad. The guilt and shame overwhelmed me, threatening to pull me under. Logically, I knew I had