7 - Battle Of Wits

~Hazel’s Point of View~

“Hey Mags,” I say, giving her my best smile.

She immediately raises her eyebrow at me, but then returns my smile and gives me a side hug. What does she know? I’m instantly on the defensive.

“Hey sweetie. Your dad isn’t here, went to look at some machine or other for the shop an hour away,” she replies, handing me a glass of orange juice.

“Oh that’s okay. Actually uhm, I was kinda wondering if you needed help with anything. You know, around here,” I say, throwing back the cool drink.

She gives me a knowing look and shakes her head. 

“Not really a place for you to hang out hun and no, we’re good,” she says, taking drinks off her tray and handing them out to a few guys who were eating. They all make small talk with her. 

Damn it, I can’t exactly come out and ask for Punch. I don’t even know which room is his, I don’t exactly have a wolf that can find his scent. If I don’t have a task or something to do here everyone would ask why I was hanging around. 

I texted him late last night but he didn’t answer. Now I don't have a phone to know if he'd answered or not … thanks mom. 

I sigh and look at the clock in the pool table area. 11:45am and these guys are just getting up. What a life.

I help myself to the buffet and make chit chat with a couple guys. Of course, they all knew already I’d been expelled and gave me shit for it. To be expected.

“Ooh breakfast,” I hear, making me turn my head. 

A female, roughly a year older than me, maybe, comes strutting into the dining room like she owns the place. She is very clearly wearing last night’s tight dress, her hair a mess. I make a face. 

Fucking Flies!!

Desperate whores who hang around, basically being cum dumpsters for the males. I’d heard rumors that most were determined to sleep with every single guy, they even had scorecards. 

Dis.gust.ing.

“Honey, I’m sorry but you need to go,” Missile says, taking the plate right from her.

I snicker, damn that was cold. I watch with great amusement as he gives her a $100 bill and tells her to go before shoving her out the door.

Barely a minute later, Punch emerges, in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, Nike slides on his feet. I gasp as I take in all the tattoos on his legs. 

Because I knew what they mean. My dad's legs are covered. Enemies that tried to take them down, and failed. 

Punch had killed people, lots by the looks of it. I gulp.

“What the fuck are you doing here brat,” he snaps, turning to look at me. He then yawns and stretches as Mags fixes him a plate. Goddess, he thinks I’M the spoiled brat?

I swear I can feel my heart thudding in my ears. Has he really killed that many people?? I can’t accept that!

Suddenly chairs begin moving, dishes clang together. By the time Punch sits down across from me, literally everyone has left. 

“Mags, can I talk to you later? Maybe we could get dinner,” Punch asks.

“Sure honey. Just text me, pick me up at the house. But … no bike okay? Supposed to rain,” she says, carrying away the dirty dishes.

I’m instantly so jealous my face heats with it. I wish he could be picking me up for dinner.

For years now Mags had been making breakfast for the guys every single morning. Mostly the Flies made dinner, I supposed they were all on their own for lunch.

“Whatever you wanna ask me, don’t,” he says, shoving some toast in his mouth.

I exhale and roll my head around my neck. There are way, way too many things I wanted to ask him. I knew he’d never tell me.

“I talked to mom, dad was out late. I don’t even know if he came home,” I tell him, hoping he knows.

“He crashed here,” he says, dismissively, shoveling more food in his mouth. Not offering any explanation.

“Are you busy today,” I ask, hopeful.

Or do you have any more whores in your bed, I wanted to ask. Any more men in your car you’re about to kill? No I didn’t really want to ask, I was positive I didn’t want the answers. A knot formed in my gut, absolutely sick. 

“Always busy,” he simply replies, his mouth full.

I always feel like I’m never good enough to be in Punch’s presence. But when he was just Travis, he was different. Or so I felt. He was sweeter, and actually wanted to be around me. We laughed, we had fun. 

Then he got his wolf. Then he became a Yardbird. Maybe it was just a part of growing up, but I hated it. Sometimes, I just miss my friend. 

“Maybe we could catch a movie,” I say, hoping like hell he doesn't shoot me down. 

I was grounded but surely I'd be allowed out with him.

My brain reminds me he probably hasn’t showered, he probably had that skank’s two dollar perfume all over him. Did he like her?

I gape at his plate in shock when I see it is empty already. Jeez!

“Don’t come around here Hazel, it’s no place for you,” he warns, wiping his hands clean.

“I’m moving back home so…” I trail off.

 I’ll be around whether you like it or not!

My mom said the school had already emailed her that I needed to write an essay about how I’d changed and would behave if I were allowed to attend. I was so not looking forward to that shit.

“So what? Go to the mall. Play with your hair, whatever females do. But don’t come here,” he says, getting up.

I’m on my feet before I can help myself.

“Maybe you could teach me to drive? Dad makes me crazy and mom won’t let me go outside the parking lot,” I whisper, moving to his side.

He looks annoyed.

“Come on, what are brothers for,” I chide, elbowing him. 

We’d never had any sort of true brother/sister relationship. There was already a thick tension between us that I used to chalk up to hormones, but since he got that damn wolf…

I had only seen Mick fully shifted once and he immediately tried to scent me, thankfully no one else was around because … awkward. But my body had wanted it. 

Unfortunately Punch was pissed and forced his shift back quickly. We never spoke of it and I hate that.

He stares at me and I shift on my feet, feeling incredibly awkward. Okay, okay I feel pathetic! It's clear I’m begging for his time. I don’t know what else to do. I like being around him, and I’m not supposed to get in trouble anymore. Yet he killed someone last night and then slept with a whore, and this is who I want to spend my day with? 

Yup. I sure do.

And I absolutely fucking hate it … and hate that I don’t hate it. He’s growing a beard and it makes him look older, more dangerous and impossibly sexy. All I want to do is look at him. If I can’t do that…

What the hell do I do with my time then? All my female friends wanna do is shop and party. Well the shopping isn’t that fun if I have nowhere to wear it. That leaves hanging out with my mom ALL day.

“Are you for real? Isn’t there a driver's ed,” he whines, crossing his arms. 

I lick my lips, gawking at his massive arms. When did he get those?? Even in the winter his skin was tanned and always looked warm, like he’d just stepped inside from a day under the sun.

“Probably but… Come on Trav, help me out,” I coo, trying to be playful. 

Trying pathetically to remind him how much fun we used to have together, just being ourselves. I mean he wasn’t exactly ever a happy go lucky kid but around me he did open up a bit. Allowed himself to smile now and then.

“I can give you like an hour. Wait here while I shower,” he finally concedes, dramatically. 

My mom had taken my phone away completely this morning as part of my punishment, and I was already bored as hell without it. I’d gotten one of my girlfriends to drop me off because she was getting her nails done anyhow. She teased me horribly when I called her from a landline.

I laid my head down and fell asleep until I felt something on my face. I immediately swatted at it.

"You have shit for reflexes, anyone could just sneak up on you,” Punch said, making a face.

“I didn’t realize I needed to be on guard at the Flyer’s packhouse of all places,” I say, giving him back a face.

“Brat. Let’s get this over with,” he says, pulling on his Yardbird vest. 

I exhale slowly, hating how good he looks in it. But he does in literally everything. And far, far better in nothing. Yeah … I’ve seen him before and after a shift and it's a visual I could never, ever forget.

I quickly grab my coat and follow him out, licking my lips when he isn’t looking. I wait while he pops in the garage and comes back out with keys. He flicks his head for me to follow him.

“Whoa, whose is this,” I beam, running my hand over the dark navy blue hood. 

It was a hot car, though I had no idea what kind. It looked fast.

“It’s Missile’s so don’t fuck it up. I’ll drive us somewhere off the beaten path,” he warns, getting in.

Ten minutes later I’m behind the wheel and he’s lecturing me on a few things. Thankfully it wasn’t a stick shift, I didn’t need to grind any gears and actually mess up the car.

But I’m here, alone with Punch. In a confined space where his scent is invading my lungs in the most delicious of ways. My body hums with the content feeling only he can give me.

“All right, so just get used to the gas and break, release it a bit,” he explains, as the car moves forward. 

“I have driven a few times, just can’t do it with dad hovering. He’s nuts,” I admit, making a face.

“The guys all taught me how to drive since I was the bitch going out to do tows for awhile. All fucking hours of the night,” he whines, but I could swear I nearly caught a smile.

I was desperate to ask him about last night but I knew he’d shut me down. Keep him talking, keep it light or he’ll shut down Haz.

“I bet you have a ton of stories. Didn’t dad help with repos for awhile,” I ask, as I slam on the brake and we both jerk forward. He grunts and puts his seatbelt on, making a show of it. I shrug innocently.

We were in a residential area where everyone was likely at work for the day so it was deserted. 

“Put on your blinker,” he teases, as I begin to make a turn.

“You gotta feel the brake and ease into it,” he says, as I slam it again at the stop sign. 

Before I knew it, I’d driven around for about twenty minutes and I was feeling pretty good about it. Didn’t kill anyone, take out any mailboxes. 

As I went through a roundabout at a dead end it was like the bottom gave out and it started completely downpouring. 

“Aw shit,” Punch grumbles.

“Yeah I don’t wanna drive in this,” I admit, my eyes wide. 

It was like raining from every which way, and suddenly there was no visibility. 

“Climb in the backseat and I’ll get in your seat,” he offers, turning to look at me.

“Thank you for doing this,” I say, dropping my hand on his.

His eyes immediately fell to my hand but he doesn't move it. Goddess, he is so … warm. I don’t want this to end, it can’t. This is the best afternoon I’ve had in so long and he’s just so damn… So… Goddess! Why can’t I quit him??

“Sure,” he finally says, as he stares out into the rain.

If he wasn’t going to make me move, I wasn’t going to move. We sat like that for a while, and I vowed not to be the first to speak.

“Was your all cunts school really that bad,” he asks, turning to look at me.

I snort and then fully laugh. There he is, my Travis. Though I like calling him Punch sometimes.

“It was fucking awful. I truly hated it and it sucked to be so far,” I admit. 

Our eyes lock, and I can’t look away. Before I can help myself I bring my left hand over and brush his shaggy hair out of his eyes. I was honestly surprised he let me. 

He still didn’t budge my right hand. I swear sometimes when he looks at me all sense just flies right out the window. All I can think about is getting closer to him, desperate to know what it would be like to kiss him. Mick came extremely close to trying it when he was shifted once, I guess as much as a wolf can kiss. He was about to put his lips on mine when Punch won out.

There is something here, I'm not crazy. He's just completely unreasonable.

I feel my body inching closer to him almost as if involuntarily. There is nothing I could do to stop it.

AHEM

He clears his throat abruptly and jerks his hand out from under mine. I thought we were having such a good moment, hoped we were anyway. I nearly feel tears brewing.

"They're just going to find some other school to send you to. You don't belong here," he says, dismissively. 

My jaw falls and my chest tightens. Is it that easy for him to just write me off? It can’t be!

It’s quiet for a minute as I think about what to say. I feel my face get hot, my mood changing to pissed off. I stick my finger right in his face.

"Excuse me, you dick head! I was here long before you. You don't even fucking live with my parents anymore! You may be all big and bad to the guys at the packhouse, but you're just an asshole to me. Why can't you just be decent," I bark.

He licks his lips and a sly smile creeps across his face. I want nothing more than to slap it right off of him. But the look on his face is stern and it only says one thing. I will always, inevitably, submit to him. He can do it to me with only a look and we both know it. I’ll never be his equal.

Without another word I move the seat and climb into the back. He keeps the same dickish grin on his face as he maneuvers into the driver's seat and takes me home.

If he thinks he won, he's fucking wrong. I WILL show him!