Page 77 of Defiant
“I care about Jaz.”
“So do I.”
“Why? How do you know her?”
It was almost ridiculous; interrogating each other in the halls of Midpark, like we were each trying to figure out what made the other tick, besides our fascination with Jaz and everything she was.
Dante let out a bitter smile. “Let’s just say, if things would’ve been different, Jaz would’ve been mine a long time ago. She never would’ve met you, or anyone here.” He shook his head. “It’s obvious to both of us she doesn’t belong here.”
“You’re saying she belongs with you?”
He lifted his arms before gesturing to his groin. “These arms, this dick, would’ve been her home if mommy dearest wouldn’t have taken her away from where she belongs.”
The pieces were slowly coming together for me, though I did not like what I was seeing. “And if she doesn’t choose to go with you? If she wants to stay here, with me—what then?” It was a possibility, just like, I supposed, what he’d said was, too. “Will you respect her wishes, or try to steal her away?” After his history, I wouldn’t put anything past him.
Dante smirked. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
I watched him go, frowning.
Waiting and seeing was not what I wanted to do. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now, but patience was a virtue. I would have to wait and see, but in the meantime, I could prepare myself for the worst.
Chapter Twenty-One – Jaz
The night of the choir concert came too soon. Well, if I was honest, it would always come too soon, because I would never be ready for it. I had the lyrics to the songs memorized, at least, so there was that. I knew the gist of the tune I was supposed to keep as an alto, but that was about it. Bobbi kept reassuring me during class that would be enough, for now. Once I had a one-on-one test with Ms. Haber, where I’d go into her office and be forced to sing for her, alone, I’d have to know the tune well enough to carry it by myself. During the concert I could piggyback off of the other altos beside me.
There wasn’t a strict dress code for the concerts; however, in order for all of the students to have a more cohesive look, Ms. Haber told us to wear black. As long as our clothes were black and they went along with Midpark High’s official dress code, whatever we chose to wear was good.
Although, at that, I would argue that Midpark High was select in who it chose to get in trouble when it came to clothes. Some girls could practically flash their entire chest and get away with it, while others couldn’t. I’ll give you one guess as to who got away with it most often.
Fucking Brittany.
But tonight wasn’t the night for me to spend thinking about her. Tonight I had to focus on choir and the songs and generally not looking like an idiot. It would be difficult for me, but I’d manage, somehow.
I hoped.
For my outfit, I chose some black leggings, along with a longer black t-shirt. Figured that way, my ass would be covered with the tail of the shirt, so it wasn’t like they could complain I was flashing anyone. To me, leggings were pretty much just like jeans, anyway. Just minus the pockets and a whole lot more comfortable. Skeevy dudes would always be skeevy dudes, even if you wore a parka around them—they’d always find a reason to stare at you.
I’d hopped in the shower right after getting home from school, having to blow-dry my hair so I could style it a bit. Nothing too outlandish or crazy, just a few soft waves to give it some volume. I did a bit of smokiness around my eyes, along with a nude matte lip gloss. I paired the outfit with my ankle-high black boots, and I was ready to go.
I grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on as I headed down the stairs. I’d have to take it off once we arrived at the school; Mom would have to hold it during the concert since it wasn’t black. If I would’ve had my pleather jacket still, I wouldn’t have had to worry about wearing a freaking hoodie.
Yeah, still kind of pissed about that.
When my feet landed on the first floor, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. “I’ll pull the car around.” A deep, manly voice. Ollie?
I froze at the base of the staircase, wondering why in the world Ollie would have to pull the car around. He wasn’t coming, and there was no way he would ever be caught dead in my mom’s dingy, rusty van.
Shaking it off, I found my mom in the kitchen. Ollie had already gone, apparently, to pull the car around, whatever the hell that meant. Mom was dolled-up to the extreme, like this was some kind of date for her. She wore sparkly earrings, her yellow hair down and curled. When I saw that she was wearing a floral dress, I nearly did a double-take.
Not only a dress bedecked in flowers…but also heels? What in the hell…
“Mom,” I broke the silence of the kitchen, causing her sharp blue eyes to snap to me. “What are you wearing? You do know you’re not the one going on stage to perform tonight, right?” It was hard for me not to be a smartass sometimes; what could I say?
She glanced down at herself, making a noncommittal sound. “Oh, this? Don’t be silly, honey. I just wanted to look the part of a Midpark mother.” Mom giggled.
Yeah. She actually giggled like she was twelve years old and had a secret she knew but was trying to hide from me.
“I heard Ollie talk about pulling the car around,” I started. “What was that about?” Deep down, I kind of felt like I knew what it was about, but I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to face it. Call me stupid.
