I took one step back and wavered. My car was a few spots away; she was nearly safely to hers. I should just leave, end this torture.
But I couldn’t tear my gaze off her. And not because I was still hard and her ass looked amazing in that skirt. Despite how much of a bitch she was being to me, I couldn’t help worrying about Donna Mead.
I was seeing in her some of the same shit I’d seen in myself a year ago. It had taken something truly catastrophic to make me realize it, but with hindsight, I could see there had been signs. I’d been doing all kinds of reckless shit, just as Donna was now. I didn’t want her to end up where I was.
If someone had asked me that morning who I thought Donna was, I would’ve told them she was a spoiled rich brat with delusions of grandeur. She had everything handed to her and always got what she wanted. She was perfect in every way she could control—her looks, her grades, her reputation—and would never let anything jeopardize that.
Never in a million years would I have expected her to have a bad-girl streak. I had no idea what Donna was running from, but after what went down between us, I was no longer confused about why she’d come to a place like this. She was escaping. She was using the thrill of danger as a distraction and the high of meaningless hookups to numb whatever pain was deep in her chest.
The way she’d come at me in the alley—that first kiss had been almost violent in its intensity. It was the first time I’d felt truly alive in a long time. Too bad it was delivered by someone spiraling toward death.
I may have used slightly different means when I was spiraling a year ago, but she was chasing the same thing I’d been chasing—oblivion. It was a fucking miracle she didn’t have an addiction yet. Maybe she did. What did I know?
I sighed and looked up to the stormy sky. The rain had stopped completely, and I wiped the moisture from my face before glancing in her direction again, wanting to make sure she made it to her car before I left.
To my surprise, she was walking back toward me with a determined look on her face, those killer boots crunching in the gravel.
“I thought you were leaving.” I crossed my arms. I wasn’t sure I could handle more of this in one night.
“I never leave loose ends. No matter how badly I want to take a shower.”
“Loose ends?” I scoffed, ignoring her dig. “What’re you gonna shoot me in the head and stuff my body in the trunk of your Beamer? You lack the upper body strength.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here? Oh, wait!” I gave her a wicked smirk. If I couldn’t fuck her, I’d taunt her. “I already know. Come here a lot? How many degenerates have you fucked?”
Her nostrils flared. I was getting to her, but she managed to keep her voice even. “Hendrix, I don’t have time for this bullshit. What are you doing here?”
“None of your business.” I dropped any levity from my tone. If she wanted to get serious, I was ready to get serious. “I’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t own me. I don’t have to tell you jack shit.”
“Fine. Whatever. I don’t actually care. You don’t have to tell me anything, just . . . don’t tell anyone else either.”
There it was—she’d hung around to make sure I wouldn’t tarnish her perfect reputation.
She dropped her gaze, showing the first sign of vulnerability since she’d wriggled out of my arms, and pushed her sopping wet hair back with both hands. Taking a deep breath, she fixed me with an indecipherable look. “Listen, you have your reasons for coming here, whatever they are, and I have mine. All I’m saying is, let’s just pretend we never saw each other here and be done with it. OK?”
I cocked my head to the side. “Yeah, but I don’t actually give a shit if anyone finds out I was here.”
Her shoulders drooped in defeat, but she kept her gaze on mine. Brave little princess. “Please understand the gravity of what I’m about to say—because I think I’ve only said this to about six people my entire life. Hendrix, please, don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
I nearly cracked—nearly told her I’d do whatever she wanted before pulling her into a hug. But I was certain the affection wouldn’t be welcomed, so I just squeezed my hands into fists and sighed. “I’ve got no one to tell. You made sure of that, remember? No one would believe me anyway.”
She laughed, the sound low and devoid of humor. “You don’t understand what it’s like. Reputation is everything in my world. Even the breath of a rumor . . .”
“I understand better than you know.” Spoiled rich brats in California couldn’t be that different from spoiled rich brats in New York.
She eyed me up and down, the question clear in her gaze. Who are you? What’s your story?
But I wasn’t in a sharing mood.
She licked her lips. “So, what do you want then? What’s it gonna cost me?”
“I don’t need your money. My daddy has a platinum card too.” She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen my car; I went to the same exorbitantly expensive, pretentious school. But for some reason, I wanted to point out that we had some things in common, that I understood her better than she thought.
Now it was her remaining silent, watching me with a raised brow, waiting for me to fill in the blank.
There was only one thing I wanted from her—well, two, but there was about as much chance of me getting her to lift that skirt as getting Americans to use the metric system, so I went with the practical option.
“You already know what I want.” I shrugged. “Call off your attack dogs. I don’t need any friends here, but I’m not interested in making any enemies. And trust me, if I start swinging back, it’s going to get ugly. So do us all a favor and get this shit under control.”
“Done.” Her answer was instant. Part of me bristled, wondering if I should’ve asked for more, but that was the old me talking. More would only get me into trouble. I got what I wanted. Nothing else mattered.
With a nod, I turned and walked away, forcing myself not to look back.
Monday started in much the same way it always did. I got to school, parked, walked to class. As usual, some students made a point of turning their backs to ignore me, while others openly sneered in my direction. But I made it to my first class without anyone trying to prove he was a big man by shoving me. No one smacked my books off my desk in my classes; a few people even got out of my way as I headed to lunch.
I’d been planning to go off campus for lunch but decided against it, turning right toward the cafeteria instead of left toward the doors at the end of the hall. I hadn’t seen Donna all morning, and I wanted to remind her of our little chat, test if she was taking it seriously.
I walked in, head held high, and smacked my gum loudly. A few people turned in my direction at the sound, but I ignored them. My full focus was on the girl in the perfectly neat uniform, not a blonde hair out of place under her teal headband, the smeared black makeup gone.
Donna was sitting in her usual spot, Harlow on the table with her feet on the chair next to her. The other girls weren’t there yet, but some of the other assholes they hung out with were.
I looked right at her as I passed but kept my expression neutral—doing the whole pointing-at-my-eyes-and-then-her bit felt like overkill. She glanced up, met my gaze, and looked away again as if I didn’t matter. As if I hadn’t brought her to orgasm sixty hours earlier. As if we hadn’t struck a deal in the rain right after.