Home > Filthy Little Pretties(74)

Filthy Little Pretties(74)
Author: Trilina Pucci

My hand reaches for the handle to pull the door open, immediately seeing her face through the window set into the wood. She’s laughing at something Liam’s saying to her from behind. He reaches over her, trying to steal her pencil, but she pushes his hand away as he puts her in a mock headlock, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

It’s friendly, easy, not romantic, and I hate every fucking piece of it. I twist the handle, opening the door, and breeze in, her eyes meeting mine as Liam’s head snaps up to look at me too.

He’s still pissed at me, or maybe he’s mirroring what I have no right to feel right now.

“Thank you for joining us,” the teacher remarks.

I grin. “You’re welcome,” I say, trying to keep the mask of nonchalance in place, even if I’m not remotely feeling that way.

Fuck. This is hard.

I walk to my seat across from Donovan’s, not missing how hard Liam’s holding his pencil, and lower down. My finger taps the desk, and I feel Donovan’s eyes on me. So I glance at her expecting her to be angry at me for my tension, but that’s not what I get. She’s amused. Goddamn her. I narrow my eyes at her, and she blows me a little kiss, before turning to face front.

I can do this. Or I can fake it ’til I make it. He’s being Liam with her, like a brother, but we need to squash our beef and then I’ll feel better. I was an asshole to him, and I need to apologize so everything can find a new normal. I turn over my shoulder, locking my eyes to his, and say quietly, “We should talk.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he cuts, chewing on that stupid toothpick.

Great. He’s going to be a dick.

Donovan’s eyes grow wide, but she stares forward. We both knew he wasn’t going to make it easy to apologize. But I’m running out of patience already. I rock my head to the side to crack my neck and clench my teeth together before I try again.

“Can you not be a dick? I know I fucked up, but let me make it right.”

His book slams shut as he stares at me, rage crossing his features. What the fuck?

“I’m a dick?” he huffs, swiping all the shit on his desk into his book bag and standing.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Liam,” Donovan whispers, but he ignores her, opting to rub her back reassuringly, before walking right past her frown as the whole class watches in silence.

The surprised teacher calls his name, urging him to retake his seat, but he says nothing as he flings the door open and leaves, letting it slam behind him. Donovan’s head swings to my face, and I want to kill him. He’s not doing this. Motherfucker.

“Grey?”

She doesn’t even know what to say because she’s never seen this version of him, but I’m familiar with it. This is Liam being the one person to hold me accountable. What I did…all of it—he’s going to make sure I pay until I prove I’m worthy of my privilege. Donovan being the privilege.

“Grey,” she says more insistently.

I smile reassuringly. “It’s okay, Cherry. He just needs to cool down. It’ll be fine.”

But I’m not so sure that’s the truth. How do I explain to her that he may never forgive me for what I did to her—even if she could? Because what she doesn’t understand is that Liam and I both know that I’m not the one who deserves her.

 


My eyes search the grassy area, past the tree company that’s digging and removing the remnants of my lack of reason, looking for Liam. Practice started a half hour ago. We’ve already run and stretched, and he’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck. Missing practice isn’t something we do. Ever. This is where we table all of our shit. Crew is a brotherhood. Not showing is a clear message to me.

“Dude. Where the fuck is he?” Kai whispers, following my eye line. “I figured skipping out on lunch would be as far as he took it. I didn’t see him all day, though, after first period.”

I shrug, moving toward our equipment and grabbing an oar. “I don’t know. Donovan said he’s not texting her back either. He’s obviously still pissed about the other day. He needs to get the fuck over it. Last I checked, I let him get way more hits in than I took.”

Kai nods and grabs his oar, walking next to me down the wooden dock. His sneakers squeak against the wet wood, making us both look down.

“I hate wearing shoes in the water,” he complains.

“Better than your feet freezing,” I answer, squatting down to put my oar inside the tied-off boat.

It rocks gently as the water makes small waves caused by the wake from the other boats out on the water. Coach yells at another pair in the water who aren’t doing what he wants, but I can’t really pay attention.

“I mean…you can’t exactly blame him,” Kai muses behind me, calling my attention.

My head swings around, a cold breeze making my crew sweatshirt billow. “What?”

He hands his oar to me to put in the boat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Liam. Can you blame him for not wanting to be here? It’s bad enough he had to lose the girl—”

“But here he’s reminded that he’s the number two…it’s even on his fucking shirt. I know.”

I don’t blame him. All this time I’ve been focused on Donovan, on winning her, but now for the first time I’m scared I’ve lost the only other person who knows me—sometimes better than myself. Everything is beginning to feel complicated. More so than I’d like. Lowering down into the front of the boat after Kai, I look to the side, out at the murky water, feeling like an ass. I treated him like shit, too.

“Hey. You know I’m sorry, right? I lost my head. Fucked up. But she makes me a monster.”

I hear Kai laugh quietly as I take a deep breath.

“But I shouldn’t have lost my shit on you. Your friendship is important to me. And you’re important to her. So, we good?”

He pats my shoulder, and I turn back to the front. Remorse isn’t well practiced on me, but I’m feeling it. We push away from the dock and begin to paddle to our start point when he adds, “I feel like we should hug it out? Maybe kiss and make up?”

He doesn’t even get the whole sentence out before we’re both laughing, loudly.

“Fuck you, man. Let’s row.”

 


I walk into her dimly lit room, shutting the door behind me quietly, as she looks up from her book. She’s laid out on her bed, on top of the blanket, one knee bent, her head propped up on her pillow. She smiles at me as I toe off my shoes and walk to her bed, depleted by my day and so fucking relieved to be with her.

“Got past Vic, huh?”

Crawling on top of the bed, I grimace. “He’s not a big fan of mine.”

“Can you blame him?” she teases.

A whoosh of breath leaves me as I bury my head into the crook of her neck and smother her with my frame, forcing her body to arch as I wrap my arms around her back.

“Oh, baby. Bad practice? Or bad practice with Liam?” she says sweetly, peppering kisses to the side of my head and hugging me back.

“He didn’t show,” I mumble into her neck. “Have you talked to him?”

She rubs her hands up and down my back, and I relax a little more into my Donovan pillow.

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