This time I give in and cover my flaming hot face.
My hands burn with the urge to knead something to calm my breathing. I wonder if I can spend the rest of the lunch period in the culinary classroom to bake something before my next class starts. I’m in the mood for bread. Maybe Mrs. Horne will let me hide out there for a while.
It would be the first time I’ve ever skipped a class, but I think the circumstances justify a break before I crumble under the emotional pressure weighing on my shoulders, stabbing at my heart with fresh reminders.
“Oh great,” Maisy says in a flat tone, grabbing my attention.
Usually she’s hard to ruffle, so it takes a lot to draw a reaction like that from her. Her gaze is locked on the doors and I swing around to see what’s got her twisted up.
A tall, imposing boy stalks through the cafeteria. Dark hair hangs over his forehead and he wears a leather jacket and heavy boots, completely disregarding the school uniform. His face is set in angry lines, mouth turned down as he glares at any student that dares look his way.
“Who is that?” I ask, not recognizing him.
“Wilder,” Maisy says quietly. “Fox Wilder. He’s in my grade, but he’s supposed to be in yours. They held him back when he came back.”
“Came back?”
“He used to live here.” Her expression is distant and sad. “A long time ago, when Holden and I were kids. He was our friend.”
Wilder sweeps his gaze over the room, landing on Maisy. It seems impossible, but his face grows angrier. Maisy lifts her hand, waving. Wilder jerks his head and moves to the corner where her older brother, Holden, sits with guys from the football team.
“I don’t think he remembers you, Maise,” I say carefully.
She remains quiet, sighing and crossing her arms. “Guess not. He’s been cold every time I try to say hi, but he’s been hanging around Holden since he moved back to Ridgeview. I don’t know what I did. It was so long ago, we were only kids when…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Never mind. Oh crap. Drama alert.”
Maisy nods with her chin and I glance toward Connor’s table. My heart falls when I realize how quiet the center tables have gone, and why.
Blair Davis, the dark-haired scholarship student at Silver Lake High that seems like a punching bag for the rich, popular crowd, stands stock still in front of Devlin Murphy. He’s sprawled in his seat before her like an evil king, expression hard and commanding. I watch as Blair lifts the water thermos in her hand and dumps it over herself.
What the hell!
Heinous cackles erupt from Connor and Devlin’s crowd of friends. Water drips from Blair’s hair and her uniform shirt is soaked right through.
“Oh no,” I mumble, already reaching for napkins from a holder on the table. “Not again. Why can’t they leave her alone?”
“Assholes,” Maisy hisses.
The whole cafeteria claps and taunts, cheering the drama on.
It fires me up that no one is willing to act. “I’m going to help.”
“Wet dog alert!” Someone shouts from the other tables surrounding the central popular one. They call more vile things and make kissing sounds at Blair’s back, like they’re calling a dog.
Connor pops up from his perch on top of the table and slides in next to Devlin, muttering in his ear with a matching smirk as his friend.
He’s just as vile and arrogant as Devlin Murphy, cruel and cold beneath the mask of the cocky jokester. All I see is someone who uses people and takes amusement in the torment he puts them through.
My chest burns with anger, both for Blair and at the boys at this school who think they can get away with murder. We aren’t their toys. I navigate through the tables separating me from the middle of the cafeteria, clenching the napkins in my fist. I’ve never been one to resort to violence ever, but right now it’s too much—his threats were bad enough, but seeing him laugh as his friend bullies Blair makes me snap. I could punch Connor and not regret it.
The bravado that drove me over to the scene wavers as I stand under the full brunt of Connor and Devlin together. They haven’t even noticed me, both focused on Blair.
“Um.” I offer the napkins to Blair. “I brought you these.”
Connor goes stiff in his seat, inhaling sharply. I can feel the press of his eyes against the side of my face as I hold out the napkins.
“Thanks,” Blair mutters, accepting my help.
I don’t leave her side as she pats herself awkwardly. This is the second time I’ve stood up for her against them, and I don’t doubt for a second that they’d double down in a more cruel way if I walked away. I shoot the pair of them a hard look, hoping they stop treating her so terribly.
As Connor explodes from his seat, I jump, clutching the napkins against my chest. In a blink, he’s in my face, towering over me and invading my space.
“U-um, Connor.”
“Were you invited over here?” Bishop demands.
I swallow. Is he saying I need to stay away when he doesn’t need me to pretend to be his girl? This is so stupid! He should’ve told me the rules. My knuckles turn white as I grip the napkins tighter.
What if he sends my photos because of this?
The risk is worth it. No one deserves to be treated the way these people bully Blair.
“No. That doesn’t matter, though.” My chin tips up, spurred on by the fury simmering beneath my skin. It fights with the fear settling in my gut. Connor could destroy me within minutes. Game over. “Blair needed help.”
“Blair needed help?” Connor mimics, circling behind me. My heart jolts when his hands clamp on my shoulders in a harsh and punishing grip. “You hear that, Dev?”
I want to whirl and scream at him, ask him what he wants from me if he’s going to act like this when an hour and a half ago he said he needed me by his side.
“Sure did,” Devlin says, voice like icy shadows.
With a deep grunt, he rises to his feet and I take a fearful step back, pressing into Connor’s chest. Between the two of them, the poison I pick to kill me is Connor. He pays me no attention as he stalks into Blair’s personal space, staring at her with his scary, dark eyes.
“Did you need help, Davis?”
Blair’s jaw tightens, then she answers in a lifeless voice. “No.”
Is this really happening? I gape at Blair, baffled that she would take Devlin’s crap. I go to take a step closer to Blair’s side, but Connor holds me in place, the warmth of his back burning through my sweater. My gaze bounces from Blair to Devlin and I part my lips, thinking I can appeal to him.
“Well—”
“You know,” Connor drawls next to my ear, startling me. His fingers skate over my shoulders, down my arms, plucking at my sweater. “The only thing a girl next door is good for is warming my dick.” He leans closer, covering my back with his chest, burying his face in my hair as he lowers his voice to a sinister hush. “You offering, neighbor? You can leave your granny sweater on.”
Breathing is hard. His words crash over me, driving spikes into my heart. Why even threaten me if he’s only going to be an utter bastard to me in front of his friends? I want to cry when I think of our messages, the way he swore I was the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Making sure I can’t forget that it’s been him making me feel excited, wanted, good.