Under Locke

by Mariana Zapata

In the words of a rap song my neighbor used to play on his boombox when I was a kid: Hold up, wait a minute.

Slim hooked a thumb in my direction. “We’re trying to talk Iris into getting a piercing as her rite of passage to Pins.” Well shit. Before there was medical insurance, there was a piercing.

I wanted to live even if it wasn’t always going to be fun and games. I’d forgotten that along the way somewhere. There was a difference between living and surviving. And this place, these people, reminded me of that.

Even if the girl seemed to hang on whatever man gave her any attention. Okay, that was rude. For all I knew, she was probably a nice girl who had daddy issues I couldn't hold a flame to. I needed to quit being a jerk.

Was it a growl? I kind of hoped so. Rawr.

I probably looked like a wet rat taco, but I didn’t care when the expression on his face was so calm and focused.

Dex reached up and pulled the elastic out of my messy bun. "Cuz." He twisted the hair around his fingers, not watching my eyes. "I didn't want anybody botherin' you."

My rib cage clenched all the organs and muscles within it. It pulsed, full of life and warmth and gummy bears and glitter. This was… I didn’t know how to explain it. It was like Christmas morning when you were a kid. It was everything I’d wanted since my dad first left, in a way.

He murmured my name, low and smooth. The pads of his thumbs dug a little deeper into the soft tissue on the underside of my jaw. "If all the shit I do for you and all the shit I'd be willin' to do for you doesn't tell you how deep you've snuck into me, honey, then I'll tell you." He lowered his mouth right next to my ear, his teeth nipping at my lobe before he whispered, "Love you."

"I already told you I keep what's mine."