The Vincent Boys 01 - The Vincent Boys

just known he was at home in his bed.
    Today I walked through the hall without worrying if someone was going to shove me into a wall. The sneers had stopped. It was as if they all had something new to focus on. I wasn’t the center of their attention anymore. Thank God. I turned to head toward my locker and my feet slowed as my eyes landed on the achingly familiar body standing in front of my locker. My heart sped up as I took in the sight of him. I could now openly admire his butt in a pair of jeans. A smile touched my lips but quickly fell away once I realized what he was doing.
    Beau was snatching off the notes still stuck to my locker from the day before. I’d grown weary of taking them off and with my confrontation with Sawyer yesterday I’d forgotten all about them. Even though I couldn’t see his face I recognized the angry stance as he ripped up each note and threw it on the ground. Did he just growl? I took a slow, cautious step toward him. The tense set of his shoulders warned me not to make any sudden movements. He was strung tight as a bow and ready to pounce.
    “Beau,” I said gently before reaching out and touching his arm.
    The last of the shredded sticky notes drifted to the floor from his hands. He didn’t look at me. Instead he closed his eyes tightly. The tick in his jaw only made his sharp, perfect features more intense.
    “It’s okay. The notes don’t bother me,” I assured him, wanting to say something. Anything to ease his temper.
    “He let them do this. I’m going to kill him.” His words were so thickly laced with fury I started worrying for Sawyer’s safety again.
    “No, he told them to stop,” I assured him, moving close to him. Beau finally opened his eyes and turned his head. His hazel eyes, so full of emotion, studied my face.
    “When? Because they sure as hell haven’t stopped.”
    I slid my hand down his arm and laced my fingers through his.
    “It doesn’t bother me. Really. I don’t care.”
    Beau snarled and slammed his fist against my locker door.
    “I care. No one talks to you that way. No one, Ash.” He turned and glowered at the packed hallway full of students. “NO ONE,” he shouted. His hand pulled free from mine and the crowd parted as he stalked away. He was going to find Sawyer. I silently prayed he’d let him live.
    Curious eyes watched Beau’s retreating back then shifted back to me. There would be no more letters on my locker. Beau was back and I was positive he’d just terrified the entire student body.
    The small pieces of paper at my feet were all that was left from my week as a social outcast. I bent down to pick up the pieces. I saw two scuffed boots then Toby Horn bent down beside me.
    “I’ll help you. I don’t think it was Beau’s intention that you clean this up.”
    I smiled over at him. He’d watched everything happen this week from the sidelines without saying a word. I knew he was only helping now because he was trying to find some redeeming grace in Beau’s eyes.
    “I don’t want the janitor to have to clean it up. It isn’t her fault.”
    “He’s going to murder Sawyer if he finds out this was the least of what they’ve done to you.”
    I sighed, knowing he was right. If this made Beau angry then the nail polish graffiti and the Coke incident was going to send him into a blind rage.
    “I’m praying no one tells him.”
    Toby paused and studied me a moment. I could tell he was trying to decide if I really meant what I’d said.
    “You don’t want revenge?”
    I shook my head and stood up, both my hands full of paper.
    “No, I don’t want revenge. If this week was what it took to help Sawyer deal with everything then it was worth it. Beau will never see it that way of course.”
    “He’ll end up blaming himself for leaving you here.”
    I dropped the paper into the trash can and dusted my hands off on my jeans before turning back around to face Toby.
    “He had his reasons. Both Sawyer and I know that.”
    “So you and Sawyer made up?”
    I let out a small laugh. Sawyer and I would never be completely healed. Too much bad water under the bridge.
    “As made up as we will ever get.”
    Toby nodded as if he understood.
    “And Beau?” he asked, looking unsure, as if he’d gotten too personal.
    “Beau and I are friends.” That was all he needed to know.
    Toby nodded and slipped his book bag higher up his shoulder.
    “Sorry about this week. I should’ve said something. I kept waiting on Sawyer to step