Page 46 of Unhinged Love

What am I saying? Of course he is.

I feel safer and more secure when everyone’s around us, which means my knees are shaking by the time everybody starts getting up and gathering their trash. “I’ll text you later,” Wren promises before leaving with Briggs, hand-in-hand. Maya gives me a little wave before she and Tucker head off, while the twins and Kellan wander over to another table to talk to a handful of girls.

Which leaves me with the one person I wanted to avoid until it’s time to go home later.

And he’s just as pissed as he seemed to be—only now, he doesn’t have to hide it since his friends are gone. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses, following me to the trash can where I empty my tray.

All my silence does is make things worse. He takes me by the arm and pulls me aside, crowding close to me with his back to the rest of the room. “What was that all about? Flirting with my friends? Can’t you get enough attention?”

It doesn’t matter what I do—he’s going to find a way to twist it around to fit his own narrative.

“I was just talking. That’s it.” All right, maybe I was trying to get under his skin. Clearly, I was successful. But still.

“If you want to catch their attention that much, I can make it easy for you.” Those strangely black eyes of his glitter as he looks down at me. “I’ll send them your pictures. That will earn you plenty of attention.”

I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate him now. All of the humiliation I ever went through, the misery I’ve experienced at the hands of other people—it’s nothing compared to what flows through me while I stare up at him. I can almost taste him inmy mouth and can definitely remember the terror of thinking he would never let me up for air.

I would swear I can actually hear something break in me. Maybe it’s my sanity. Maybe it’s whatever little bit of self-preservation I was still holding onto. I don’t know. All I know for sure is I am sick and tired of putting up with this. When will enough be enough?

“You know what?” I shrug, and the surprise on his face is priceless. “I don’t care. Send them out. Send them to everybody you know for all I care. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You’re full of shit,” he scoffs, looking me up and down. “All talk.”

“Whatever makes you feel better. Why don’t you send them to everybody—see if I’m bluffing or not?”

He’s wary now, like an animal testing its surroundings. One eyebrow slowly arches and his nostrils flare. “Yeah, right. Everything you’ve done so far to get me not to send them, and now you’re going to turn around and dare me to do it?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, so let me spell it out for you.” I’m shaking—I’m wishing I’d never opened my mouth in the first place, but I can’t stop now. Besides, it feels good to tell him off. “I’ve already been through eight different kinds of hell. Getting bullied by you, by people at this school, and before then. You know about it. So anything that happens to me after people see those photos is nothing new.”

Pausing for a second gives me the chance to watch as he tries to put this together. I guess it’s not easy coming to the understanding that you’ve been wasting your time—especially when you’ve spent your whole life thinking your shit doesn’t stink and the moon and stars hang because you want them there. “So go ahead. I’m tired of letting you do whatever you want out of fear. Be my guest. Show the pictures around.”

He’s too surprised to stop me from slipping past him. Somehow, I manage to walk a straight line even though my entire body is shaking. What is wrong with me? Have I really lost it? Why not stick my hand in a tank full of piranhas while I’m at it?

As I walk out of the cafeteria on shaking legs, I can’t decide whether I’ve helped myself by standing up to him… or made things so much worse.

NINETEEN

Carter

Kellan jerkshis chin at me when he answers my knock at his front door. “Hey.” Coming from him, that’s a mouthful. His broad frame almost fills the doorway, but I hear laughter coming from behind him.

“Hey.” Holding up the six-pack of beer I brought along with me, I crane my neck to look over his shoulder. I’m not the first one here—there’s a handful of people hanging out, spread out around his living room. Somebody thought it would be fun to turn on porn, and I hear guys giving play-by-play and predicting what will happen next while the girls groan and gag.

He steps aside to let me in, now letting me see pizza boxes stacked on the coffee table. This is what I need right now. An excuse to kick back, something simple like pizza and beer. Nothing I have to put any effort into when I’m feeling on edge, like a tiny push would make me lose my grip.

All because of her. She’s not even worth it. Not even the kind of person worth going out of my way for or being nice to. So whyis she still sitting in the front of my mind hours after she smarted off at me in the cafeteria?

Fuck it, I should not be thinking about this now. I’m supposed to be here to get her off my mind. That’s the whole point. Forgetting my pain-in-the-ass stepsister for a little while, bullshitting with people who actually deserve my time.

“There he is.” Briggs spots me and waves me over. “I’m glad you decided to show. Tucker is out with Maya, and the last time I saw Preston and Easton, they were trying to convince Hunter McCall to let them do an Eiffel Tower with her. Like it’s their biggest dream or something.”

“It probably is,” I decide with a laugh, cracking open a can of beer and gulping it like it’s the first thing I’ve had to drink in forever. It goes down cold and smooth, but it doesn’t do much to cool the resentment burning in my chest. Like a hot coal got lodged under my ribs. It’s burning me up inside, making it impossible to think about anything but how much I want to make her regret thinking she can stand up to me.

“So what’s up with you lately?”

So much for forgetting my problems for a little while. The beer tastes sour now, and something tells me I’m not going to enjoy this night the way I thought I would. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t give me that shit.” He hits me with the sort of look only an old friend can wear. “I know you too well. You’re walking around like somebody took a shit in your shoes—not just once, but all the time.”

---