I don't even know why I bothered coming to this piece of shit bar; I really was starting to hate Frank's. I think it was just getting too familiar, a 'been there and done that' type of thing.

But Trace insisted, which meant he whined and demanded, that I'd get out of my house and get a pay for a cold beer instead of drinking the free ones in my refrigerator. I narrowed my eyes at him, becoming annoyed that I was five dollars broker than I would've been had I stayed in my own house. Now I was getting hungry too and would probably stop by the General store to get a cold cut sandwich and a jar of pickles.

"Do you see this shit?" Trace scoffed at the plasma hanging above the bar we were sitting at, perched on old stools. I placed my Budweiser back on the coaster I was using, getting tired of sipping it to ease my boredom. I could watch the game like the rest of the men here, but I wasn't much into football season. I had ended my sports with basketball weeks ago when she -

I cut my thought short, remembering the real reason why I didn't want to watch another fucking game in my entire life.

"Whatever, Trace," I grumbled, "I'm calling it a night." That was enough to make his smurf ass whip around in his seat to face me for the first time since we got here from work nearly an hour ago.

"What? Why?" he complained, getting all whiney again. I rolled my eyes and shrugged as I stood.

"Geez, I don't know... Maybe because I smell like gasoline and I'm covered in motor oil?" I sighed, "I'm tired and I want to shower and drink my own pre-paid beer." With that I kicked my stool in, tossing a ten on the counter. Becky was serving tonight and she had an annoying habit of holding my hand when I handed her bills. I could see her intentions were to do the same tonight because she practically ran over to me when she saw I was leaving. My eyes feel on her overabundance of cleavage, not bothering to be a gentleman about it. The bitch let it hang out, so why the hell not? It's not like I've never seen her naked before.

"Ya leavin' already, Jus?" she gushed, her ruby lipstick disturbingly clashing against her olive tone. I wondered why I even bothered fucking her, but she wasn't even worth the second thought. I could barely remember that night anyway thanks to all the free drinks she gave me.

"Yep," I yawned for emphasis, "See ya tomorrow, Trace." I pat his back as I turned to walk away.

"Wait-" Trace's words fell short because the welcome bell attached to Frank's entrance sounded and caught my eye before he could do anything to stop it. My chest tightened as my eyes soaked her up in her cut off shorts and tied up t-shirt, exposing a sliver of her stomach and an overwhelming amount of legs I didn't know she had. The girl was almost a foot shorter than me, but now she walked in here like a fucking goddess. The nerves of her for looking so good.

"Get another beer, Jay, on me...to go," Trace said, firmly grasping my shoulder. I glanced back at him, seeing his good intentions as he gave me a worried look. Trace was annoying, but he was my boy, always trying to keep the peace. Every fiber in my being wanted to walk up and talk to her, ask her what the fuck happened last time, but Trace was looking tired and I knew he wouldn't have the energy to deal with us. Besides, I was tired my damn self and covered in grease. I couldn't let her see me like this anyway.

"I'm good, man," I assured, even managing to smile, "I'm just gonna walk out, no problem." Trace raised a brow, doubting me like he always did. "Seriously, man." I turned to get one last glance at her though and then I saw red.

In the midst of my brief conversation, she had made her way over to the pool tables, smiling and flipping her chocolate brown hair over her soft, mocha shoulder. It would've been beautiful, seeing her so happy and glowing, but there was some fucking douche bag with his arm around her waist like he owned that shit. My shoulders instantly tensed as I drew in a deep breath. I hadn't realized my fists were clenched until Trace placed his hand on my forearm, pulling me back as I took a step forward.

"Justin, no," he said calmly, but firmly, and I felt like a fucking dog. Who the hell was he to tell me what to do?

"Fuck off, Trace," I sneered, flinging him off of me with rough shrug. He stood from his stool, jumping in front of me before I could take another step. He held up his hands.

"Look, man, I know you're feeling some type of way, but she's not your problem," he said, making me cut my eyes in his direction. Not my fucking problem?

"Was she not staying with me three weeks ago? Now she's in here all over some fucking dickwad-"

"Keep your voice down!" Trace whispered harshly and I hadn't realized I was yelling until the area around me seemed to hush. I felt the eyes on me, knowing they would be talking about me all over again. "She's not all over him, man. They're just standing there-"

"They shouldn't be," I snapped, "Who the fuck is that anyway? She can't meet somebody that damn fast. She must've been seeing him before we even broke up-"

"Y'all weren't even together," Trace argued back, making me shove him back before I could think of what I was doing. He knocked over my bottle, making it crash against the floor. The sound caused more eyes. "What the fuck, man!"

"Don't tell me what the fuck we were," I stated, jabbing my finger in his angered face.

"Whatever," Trace said, slapping my hand down, "Go fuck up again, see if I give a shit!" He snatched up his jacket, mumbling shit as he walked away. I let it go, knowing we'd be talking by morning.

My eyes fell back onto the core of my rage and a fire ignited in my gut when I caught her eye for just a moment when she turned to look at me. I could see the annoyance in her eyes before she turned back, wrapping her arm around the same asshole's back. I watched her arm and his arm; their skin touching comfortably and I almost screamed as I stomped over to them. I heard Becky call after me, but fuck it and fuck them and fuck it all.

"Hey!" I called out, making them turn to face me. I didn't get a look at the guy's face before I swung, but his nose wasn't hard to break. I felt the crack against my knuckles in the first swing that sent him falling back against the pool table. He groaned when he landed and I was over him in a second, my fist flying faster than my thoughts could match up.

This fucker was gonna die if I had anything to say about it.

"You wanna fuck my girl!" I accused because why the fuck else was he touching her? Besides, she'd fuck him just to spite me, I know it. Not that this fucking douche could handle that. That ass was mine, got damn it.

"Justin what the fuck!" I ignored the shriek, but a second later she was pummeling me from behind, slapping, and punching my fucking head. I stopped swinging long enough to grab her wrists and shove her back before turning back to this asshole, but she was on me again, slapping and yelling. She was clawing at my arms, digging her fucking nails into my arm and neck.

I turned, grabbing her flailing arms. Tiny as she was, I was having a hard time holding her. She was flipping out like a fish out of water, cussing my name to hell. "Get the fuck off me!" she yelled when I wrapped my arms around her to hold her together, but she managed to get an arm out, pushing at my chin until I was facing the ceiling. Her nails were fucking up my jugular and it hurt like a motherfucker, so I had to let her go and push her back. She tripped over a fallen pool stick, stumbling back into a bystander. She nearly fucked him up just for standing there before her dark eyes landed on my furious glare.

"Who the fuck was that?" I asked was because I could see him running for the back exit through my peripherals. I could also see the bar gawking at us. She just stood there seething for a moment, her whole body shaking. I gave her thoughtful glance, forgetting I was angry for a moment when I thought about that tight body shaking under me.... Damn she was hot when she was mad. Maybe that's why I pissed her off so much.

"He was my boyfriend until you decided to be a got damn fucktard-" The word had registered and it set me on fire all over again.

"Boyfriend!" I shrieked this time, the vein in my neck nearly exploding. "How the fuck is fuckin' him making him your got damn boyfriend? You don't even know him!"

"How do you know what I know?" she smirked, "You don't know how long I've been with him anyway." She was bullshitting, I knew it. Trying to act like we're the same kind of person... She could never step out on me - even if we didn't have a real title. Even when I told her to go fuck herself, she would wait and see what happened.

"Shut the fuck up," I spat out just to prove I wasn't listening to a word she was saying. Her face fell as she turned on her heel.

"Fuck you, Justin Randall!" she yelled over her shoulder, "I fuckin' hate you!" She leant over the pool table, fucking up somebody's game when she grabbed the eight ball and aimed it at my head. I moved in time to hear it whoosh past my ear as she went to make a run for it. I went after her without giving a fuck who was watching as I yanked her arm, making her yelp and flip out again.

"Calm the fuck down!" I groaned, but of course that spurred her on. Fuck this shit, I thought, tossing her over my shoulder with ease. I was fighting to keep her steady because she was really kicking and scratching, fucking up my scalp and shoulders as I hurried outside the bar. I'm surprised Frank hadn't pulled out his rifle yet.

"Put me the fuck down, asshole!" she screamed before her teeth went right into my shoulder. I cried out in pain, but more so shock as I dropped her ass to the fucking ground a lot rougher than I would have if she weren't so fucking crazy.

"You bit me!" I hissed when I touched my shoulder to make sure she hadn't ripped out a chunk with her fucking teeth. "Bitch!" I got fist to my face before I could get the syllable completely out, groaning as I stumbled back.

"Your mama's the fuckin' bitch!" she yelled back, "She should've fuckin' swallowed you, motherfucker!" I held my lip and shoulder as I glared at her. That shit hurt my got damn feelings and she knew it. She wanted low blows?

"Swallow, huh?" I smirked, even though my jaw hurt, "Like you swallow me?" The anger dissipated from her face and I almost took that shit back because her anger was a lot easier to deal with. There was a silence when she took two steps back before turning around and walking off.

My jaw was hurting and I was beginning to feel the burn of her punches and scratches, but I wasn't even mad anymore because she was walking away, not even saying anything back. She knew that was the worst way to fight. It wasn't fair when one of us gave up. "I'm sorry!" I called out an apology and she raised her hand to silence me as she kept walking.

I felt myself getting tensed up again because I fucking apologized and she was still walking away. My body reacted for me, jogging up to catch her arm and whip her back to face me. I braced myself for her tears, but was shocked to find her face clear with just a scowl in place.

"Get the hell off me," she demanded, yanking her arm free and slapping at my chest, "Just leave me alone, Justin! Damn!" She went to turn around again, but fuck that 'cause my chest was hurting, so I owed her at least a shove, so pushed her against the nearest wall, making her gasp for air on impact. I knew the brick was scratching up her exposed back, but that's what the fuck she got for wearing this got damn down outfit, showing off all that smooth skin.

"I said I was the fuck sorry," I said as angrily as possible, but I could smell her vanilla body mist and it was a distraction. It took almost a week and two bottles of Febreeze to get that smell the fuck out of my sheets.

"I don't give a shit," she growled back, pulling her lips back over her teeth, snarlin' like a mutt. I almost laughed because her face could never been intimidating no matter what she did. It was too soft and round, her long lashes giving her those fucking doe eyes that always had me feeling like a pussywhipped bastard when she wanted something - anything.

I grabbed her arms, slamming them above her head to pin 'em because she kept trying to twist her way out of my grasp. All her squirming was making her warmer than usual, her skin gleaming with a bit of sweat from the heat of the August night and our scuffling. She was still glowing, even in her anger.

She stopped struggling for a second when she realized I wasn't really fighting back, just holding her still. Her chest moved against mine and I pushed myself against her to line us up better. I saw that glossed over look in her eyes. I saw that flame that wasn't fueled by anger and I dipped my head down because three weeks was too fucking long and Becky wasn't shit compared to her, but she whipped her head around, craning her neck like she'd be able to escape that way.

"No!" she shouted, "No! Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me!" Her wild lashing out caught me a little off guard and she managed to shove me back a bit, but I went right back in to pin her up, only to have her knee ram right into my fucking nut sack.

Pain was an understatement because I went down faster than I could've imagined. A cry caught in my throat as I saw white, grabbing myself to ease the sharp fire and the stinging of tears in my eyes. I wailed out, rolling all over the ground, not seeing anything, but feeling it all. All I heard was the fading sounds of her clicking cowgirl boots and I knew she was gone.

"I told you to leave it alone," Trace's voice came chiming in a second later and I wanted to ask the fucker where he was before she fucked up my balls. "C'mon, man. Let’s go..." I felt his arm hook through mine, but I couldn't bear to let go of my nuts just yet. They were probably crushed, bleeding, and swollen. God, I just wanted to kill her. I just wanted to slap her around.

"I need a minute," I whispered, only to have him laugh out loud. If I could move, I'd punch him in the nuts too, but the idea of causing someone this much pained seemed as cruel as shooting puppies.

"Okay, man," Trace said through his laughter, "I'll bring the truck around." He walked off too, leaving me on the ground to wallow in my sorrows. I vowed to myself that she'd pay for this if it was the last thing I ever did.