Guns and Roses

Let them know

Leo

I saw her coming before she even opened her mouth.

Genevieve.

I liked her. She’s bold, has a smart mouth and thinks the world had to answer to all her questions. In a way, she made me think that if I wasn’t f****d up in the head, then I’d prolly be just like her—The girl with too many thoughts in her eyes and not enough fear on her face.

She was walking straight toward me like she had a reason,like she wanted a war she didn’t know the rules to. I was leaning against the old track field wall, burning the last cigarette I had for the day. Thought I’d get a minute of quiet.

Should’ve known better.

“Princess,” I said without thinking. The name slipped out like a habit I didn’t realize I’d picked up. She didn’t like it. I saw it in the clench of her jaw.

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped and looked at me squarely in the face.

Fair enough.

But damn, the fire in her eyes made me want to do it again just to see what else she’d spit.

Then she crossed her arms and smacked me with it.

“I heard things.”

Of course she did.

Everyone hears things about me. That’s kind of the point. I don’t talk. I don’t explain. I let the stories grow teeth and crawl down the halls so people stay out of my way.

Safer that way.

“They said… you made someone drop out. That you followed him into the woods and came back with blood on your boots.”

My jaw didn’t move. I didn’t blink. Just watched her mouth move and let her talk, even though I already knew how this conversation ended.

Same way they always do.

“They also said you deal drugs. That you used to be normal but something changed. Something with your mom.”

And there it was.

That word.

Mom.

Like she knew what the hell she was talking about.

I crushed the cigarette under my boot and looked at her properly. God, she was shaking, but she wasn’t running. That did something to me I couldn’t name. Made my chest tighten and my head pound.

“People love dead moms,” I said, voice flat. “Makes a better story.”

She didn’t flinch. She asked if it was true.

And all I could think was: Would it matter if it was?

I could tell her the truth. That I’d lost my mother piece by piece—first to the pills, then the silence, then the bathtub. That I held her hand three hours before they zipped her up in a black bag. That the only reason I started dealing was because the system shoved me into a basement with moldy walls and a fridge that never worked.

But that truth wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t stop her from looking at me like I was broken glass she couldn’t help but touch.

“I could tell you the truth,” I muttered. “But it wouldn’t change what you already think.”

She stared at me like she wanted to believe that wasn’t true. Like I wasn’t just another warning sign wrapped in black clothes and bad decisions.

“I’m not like everyone else,” she said.

I stepped closer. I shouldn’t have. I knew that. But something about her made me feel like I could.

“You keep saying that,” I whispered. “But you’re shaking.”

Not fear. I could tell.

Something worse.

She was curious.

And curiosity? That’s the first mistake.

I leaned down, so close I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.

“You wanna know if I’m dangerous, Geni?”

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

“I am.”

I let that sink in. Let the air between us thicken until I couldn’t breathe right.

Then I stepped away.

“But not to you.”

I walked off before I did something I couldn’t take back. Before I said something that sounded too much like a promise.

Because if I stayed one second longer, I would’ve kissed her.

And kissing Genevieve?

That would’ve ruined everything.

With the way I felt today before I left the house, I knew I was gon’ lay hands on someone today. I absolutely detested when things don’t go my way and someone had tipped the cops on one of my drop offs and snatched my batch of delivery causing CK—my boss to be on my case.

I hadn’t seen her in about 3 days and I was getting miserable. I looked around the halls during lunch and all the places she could be at, nothing. My body was pulsing and I prolly need to get my anger out on something.

Didn’t know who till about fourth period, but my knuckles had been itching since this morning, and the wrong dude just happened to open his mouth the wrong way.

Tyrik Johnson.

Loud. Flashy. Weak behind all that mouth.

Always talkin’ like he runnin’ the school but never been in a real fight. One of them clowns that only act tough when there’s a crowd to gas him. I’d been on his ass since sophomore year ’cause he ain’t know when to shut up, and today?

Today he chose stupid.

It started in the locker room. I was pulling my hoodie over my head, trying to keep to myself when I heard him:

“Yo, Saint Laurent. Heard you been tryna wife up that new lil’ thang-Genevieve, right?”

I didn’t look at him. Just tightened the laces on my sneakers and kept my head down.

He didn’t take the hint.

“You already hit that or you still workin’ the sweet boy angle?” he said, laughing with his boys. “Lemme know when you done. I like my girls broken in.”

The room went quiet.

I stopped lacing.

And I smiled.

It was that type of smile, the one where you don’t show teeth, just dead eyes and a promise.

I stood up slow. Calm. Hands in my pockets. Walked over like it was nothing.

He backed up a little but tried to puff his chest. “Ayo, I’m just playin’, bro-“

“Yeah?” I said, voice low. “You think I’m laughin’?”

He opened his mouth again, mistake number two.

“Nah, but for real, you always on my case, bruh. You actin’ like you her pimp or somethin’. She just a fine-ass new girl. All that mouth and them thick ass thighs, look like somethin’ I could-“

CRACK.

My fist landed clean across his jaw before he could finish that filthy sentence.

The sound it made? Like God slammed a car door.

He stumbled, mouth bloody already, and I didn’t stop.

I don’t stop when I’m heated.

I grabbed him by his chain and slammed him against the locker so hard the metal dented.

“Say her name again,” I growled in his face. “Say it again.”

He coughed. Tried to swing on me,cute but I caught his wrist midair and twisted it till he hollered like a b***h.

“You talk too much, Tyrik,” I said, teeth gritted. “Always runnin’ that mouth ‘til it gets you in trouble.”

Another punch—this time to the ribs.

He folded like homework.

His boys didn’t step in. They knew better. I been beat three seniors before lunch in sophomore year. I don’t fight fair, and I don’t fight soft.

I didn’t know Genevieve. But something about hearing her name come out of that guys mouth twisted something in me. I wanted to protect her. To shield her from this shitty place.

I crouched next to him as he gasped for air, his gold chain hanging half-broke around his neck.

“You keep Genevieve’s name out your dirty-ass mouth,” I said. “She don’t belong in no story comin’ from a dude who ain’t even got the balls to finish a sentence.”

Then I stood and walked out.

Didn’t wait for Coach. Didn’t care about the blood on my knuckles or the whisperin’ that followed me down the hall.

Let them talk.

Let them know.

You don’t disrespect her.

Not while I’m breathing.