Danger radiates around Devon's prone form like a blinking hazard sign

I step back torn between watching the drama unfold or going back inside before I'm caught by my nemesis. When the older man gets right up in his face and pokes him in the chest, drama wins out.

"Do not touch me." Devon growls, voice filled with venom.

"Then you better keep your damn mouth shut, do you hear me, son?" The endearment reeks of condescension making me bristle.

I squint getting a good look at the clean cut man I've only seen once at a school function last year. While father and son don't look anything alike, their bad attitudes and aggression is clearly hereditary.

The pair stands inches apart with a thick fog of tension hanging between them. Devon flexes his hand and after years of football, the power behind those fists would do some serious damage.

It's clear the two have a contentious relationship and if things were to get physical, the older man would be outmatched by a good three inches and about thirty pounds of coiled muscle.

"This better not go any further than right here. Do you understand me, boy?"

Apparently, he has no qualms of living life on the edge and I wait on baited breath for the resulting punch that would have him stretched out on the dirty pavement.

Luckily for him, those tight fists stay put.

"You think I'm telling her about this shit?" He scrubs a hand over his short cut hair. "Unlike you, I'm not a selfish prick. I actually care about my family."

"Don't try lecturing me." He scolds and takes a step back. "How about you focus on football and I'll stick to keeping you and your mother in the lifestyle that you've both grown accustomed. Are we clear?"

I press myself against the brick wall trying to get a closer look because this show better than the soap operas I used to watch with my Granny Mae and I'm dying to know what would have father and son at each other's throats.

"Crystal."

The man gives a sharp nod then straightens his cuffs before brushing a hand down the front of his jacket.

"Good. Now get your ass home before you further ruin my night."

After those lovely parting words, his leather loafers clack against the pavement and carry him around the corner towards the restaurant.

Said boy, who looks more like a man, remains in the shadows and starts pacing from one side of the alleyway to the other. Tight muscles bunch and roll with each step reminding me of a caged animal vibrating with hostility and suppressed power.

Devon has always been that way, like he's two seconds from exploding and even in middle school he had this intensity that quickly made him the coveted bad boy.

While all the girls giggled and flirted for his attention, all I wanted to do was disappear into a wall so he wouldn't notice me. Unfortunately, I've always been on his radar, always been his verbal punching bag, and the target of his sick jokes.

That's why I'm utterly confused by the small pang of empathy pulling at my heart strings. Having witnessed their fight makes me think he has good reason to be an asshole. I guess I would too if my father was a condescending jerk.

Then again, subjecting others to the same ill treatment just because he has a screwed up situation is no excuse. If anything he should strive to be a better human being. But I doubt Devon has the brain capacity for such nuanced thinking.

Angrily gripping the sides of his head, he stops pacing just as a loud crack fills the air. I squeal like a mouse and damn near jump out of my skin at the jarring noise. I glance over my shoulder realizing the sound came from the dumpster lid I forgot to close.

The moment I turn around, I'm pinned in place by stormy gray eyes full of ire and my breath seizes in my lungs.

Oh, shit!

I freeze, my mouth going dry at Devon's trademark brooding expression.

Being caught in a dank alleyway with the boy that once knocked me in the face with a dodgeball is a disaster waiting to happen.

Right now would be the time to make a run for it but my feet are rooted in place as my mind screams at them to get with the program. Panicking, I keep my eyes on Devon while his narrow with recognition.

A veil of emotions flicker over his face when he realizes it's the girl that he's been torturing for years. His lip curls in disgust and I instantly regret my empathetic heart.

Devon, whose name is embedded on the top of my Shit List, deserves nothing but my  seething wrath.

Ever since he darkened the steps of Westlake Middle School one rainy day in eight grade, he's made it his life's mission to break me and he has, on many occasion. I've cried so many tears over his cruel antics that my tear ducts are like the Sahara desert. But those days are over and now I'm a hardened shell of resentment itching to take Devon down a peg.

Suddenly feeling reckless, I hold my head up high and move fully into the light. With our gazes locked, I slap on a mocking smile and give him a dainty finger wave.

He cocks a brow, head dipping as he takes a menacing step forward and my smile falters. I inch backwards realizing I just taunted a six foot three wide receiver with a hair trigger temper.

Definitely not my smartest move.

I'm about to hightail it out of here when he halts in his tracks. He shoots me a seething look then shakes his head, as if I'm not worth the time, before marching off.

My shoulders drop when I exhale a heavy breath of relief.

For a moment there, I saw my life flash before my eyes, but just as the threat of danger passes, I remember that I have to see him tomorrow at school.

"Holy crap on a cracker, I'm in so much trouble."