Turns out there are worse things at RHA than the girls’ bathroom.
Arriving late to class.
Ignoring the beads of sweat trickling down my back, I quickly scan the room as who I’m assuming must be the teacher—given she’s standing at the front of the room with a scowl on her face and all—sighs in exasperation.
“Class started three minutes ago,” she informs me curtly as I make a beeline for the nearest open seat in the back of the room.
Everyone studies me like I’m some new microbe in a petri dish and I walk even faster. “Sorr—”
“Move,” a gruff voice bites out the second my ass hits the seat.
When I turn my head to the right, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Jace is slumped over his desk…glaring daggers at me. “Get a new seat. Now.”
Breathe, Dylan.
I look him right in the eyes. “Nah. I’m good right here.”
Those gorgeous eyes of his darken as he sits up. “Trust me, you’re not. Do us both a favor and sit somewhere else.”
“Is there a problem, Mr. Covington?” the teacher calls out.
He turns his attention to her. “Yeah. This bi—”
“Make me.”
If I wasn’t already aware everyone was watching our exchange, I would be now.
Jace’s voice drops suggestively and my heart speeds up for a different reason. “That would involve touching you.” His mouth curves into a disgusted sneer when our eyes connect. “Hard pass.”
I force myself to pretend his dig doesn’t hurt like hell. “Good.” I straighten my spine and face forward. “Then sitting next to me shouldn’t be such a big deal.”
I’m poking the bear, but I no longer care. It’s clear he isn’t the same Jace. And the asshole who took his place can go fuck himself.
I’m whipping out my tablet so I can take notes when he speaks again.
“You’re right. I just figured you might want to sit next to Oakley.”
Soft snickers fill the classroom. The organ in my chest twists at his betrayal.
Jace kicks the desk on the other side of him, and a groggy Oakley bolts up from his slumber. “Is it over yet? Can we go get pancakes?”
The snickers turn to laughs…until aggravation clouds Jace’s features. “I think Dylan wants to sit next to you, bro.”
A deaf person could hear the implication loud and clear.
My stomach rolls. I think Dylan would rather eat dirt. “No—”
“I’ve got a seat she can sit on,” Oakley says, cutting me off. “Again.”
A few guys reach over to give him a pound, while a group of girls shake their heads in dismay before giving me a look of repulsion.
Oakley gets laughs and high-fives, I get abhorrence.
Even though the rumor he started impacts us both. Double standard much?
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jace glance in my direction. Waiting.
Waiting for me to crumble…or better yet—go off the deep end and scream obscenities at Oakley in the name of defending myself.
Put on a show and feed the drama.
Because that’s what these people love most.
My throat grows tight as I look down at my tablet.
I’m not giving these people shit.
And Jace won’t get a reaction out of me until he uses that asshole mouth of his to tell me why he hates me so much.
