As she disappeared down the hall, I slipped outside again, fishing a cigarette from my pocket. The cool breeze hit my face as I lit up, taking a few quick drags, feeling the familiar burn in my lungs. I tossed the cigarette down a storm drain and popped a piece of mint gum in my mouth, trying to mask the scent.
Just as I stepped back into the hallway, I collided with someone—Presley.
We both froze, the hallway buzzing with students rushing past, but it felt like time stopped for us. Her gaze was sharp, unreadable, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
I swallowed hard, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between us. I could feel the tension radiating off her, and I knew she was waiting for me to say something—anything. But I wasn’t in the mood for her games today.
I met her gaze, my voice low as I said, “Truth.”
Then, without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and walked away.
Presley’s Jeepwas parked right in the middle of my driveway when I got home, blocking where my truck should be. She never skipped her precious princess practice, so I must’ve really gotten under her skin. I pulled up to the curb, hopped out, and lit a cigarette, leaning against the truck door as I took a long drag.
She stepped out of her Jeep in a pair of shorts and an old Ryland High sweatshirt, her legs flexing with every step as she walked toward me. No pageant-perfect dresses today. Just raw, pissed-off Presley. Without a word, she reached out, plucking the cigarette from my fingers like she owned the damn thing, and took a drag.
“Truth,” she said, smoke curling from her lips.
I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the way her lips curved around the cigarette, her anger palpable.
“How do you feel watching me with Reagan?” she asked, her voice low but sharp.
“The same fucking way you feel when I see you with Evan,” I shot back. “Why her?”
I took the cigarette from her, taking one last pull before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under my boot.
“She’s convenient, and I know it bothers you.”
Presley’s eyes flashed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Fuck you, Hudson Evert. You’re such a bastard,” she hissed, spinning on her heel to storm away.
I wasn’t about to let her walk off that easy. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to face me. “You’re not getting away that easily. Truth.”
Her eyes locked onto mine, defiant. “Are you jealous?” she asked smugly, chin jutting out in challenge.
I leaned in closer, my grip still firm on her arm. “Are you?”
Her lips twisted into a smug smile. “Answer first. You don’t get to ask a question until you answer mine—and only if I pick truth.”
I let my hand trail down her arm, fingers brushing against her hip as I leaned in, my voice dropping. “I hate seeing you with him.”
“Are you jealous?” she fired back, eyes blazing.
“Suppose I am?” I said, voice gruff as I pulled back slightly, trying to keep my cool even though my pulse was racing.
She bit her lip, hesitating, like she wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “I need to give him a chance.”
I jerked my hand away, the words hitting me harder than they should have. “No, what you need is to put on a fucking show. He’s going to hurt you, and when he does, it’s going to hurt me.”
Presley’s lips pressed into a thin line as she searched my face, frustration flickering in her eyes. “Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, like she didn’t understand why I was getting so worked up.
I stepped closer, closing the gap between us, until her back was pressed against the Jeep, her body trapped between me and the cold metal. My voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. “Because if you weren’t with him, I’d have you. Body and soul. And no matter what happens, he’ll never have what we had—our bond.”
Her breath hitched, her hands pressing against my chest. I could see her mind racing, trying to make sense of everything, trying to push me away—but not really wanting to. She met my gaze, her resolve cracking for just a moment. Then, gently, she pushed me back, and I stepped away, giving her the space she needed.
“Our bond was broken when you left me,” she said, her voice soft but filled with hurt.
“It wasn’t my choice,” I muttered, frustration bubbling up again.
She let out a long breath, her fingers tracing along the back of my hand, her red nails gliding over my skin like she didn’t want to let go just yet. “Are we still playing the game?”