Page 13 of The Devils They Are

"That's hilarious because I have nothing to say to you. Just keep out of my way and I'll keep out of yours."

Liv laughs, stepping forward and closing the distance between us. She lifts one of her perfectly manicured nails, shoving it into my chest. "You listen to me—"

My hand snaps up, coiling around her finger and painfully squeezing it. Her words cut off as she tries to jerk her hand back, but I grip tighter, pulling her finger backwards. Not enough to break it, but enough to warn that I'll dislocate the damn thing if she touches me again.

"I don't think so," I start, pressing my thumb against the back of the tip of her nail. "I don't waste my energy on vapid, shallow bitches. Whatever you are going to say, forget it. Yes, I'm from Cedar. No, I'm not going to fuck your boyfriend. But yes–I will absolutely break your fucking finger if you touch me again."

I release her finger, the force sending her stumbling back into the black-haired girl.

"Peyton!" Liv hisses, apparently deciding it was her friend’s fault.

Making use of the distraction, I stroll past them, stopping in the middle of the gawking crowd. "You coming?" I say to the blonde girl, not keen to leave her behind to deal with the fallout of my actions.

"Absolutely," she laughs, following.

When we're on the track, she turns to me, grinning from ear to ear. "That was epic. I love seeing bitches get eaten for breakfast."

"Not friends of yours, then?"

"Hell, no. Me and cardio don't get along at the best of times—much less with a group of girls that will gouge your eyes out if you so much as disagree with them. I'm more of the reading type."

I laugh softly. "I hate cardio too."

A group of blue jerseys start heading toward the locker rooms, their faces lighting up when they see me. I wave them over, warning them to give the cheerleaders a wide berth before I turn back to the girl.

"I suppose we should do proper introductions. You know my name and I'd hate to just refer to you as Tampax girl," I say, holding my hand out.

She takes it, giving it a firm shake. "Sophia. But please don't call me Sophie. I'm one more incorrect name away from having a menty b."

"Noted."

"What the hell are you wearing, Spencer?" a deep voice asks from behind with a laugh.

I don't even need to turn around to know who it belongs to. His voice is embedded in my head, like nails down a blackboard.

"Fuck off, Rylan," I reply sharply.

He steps up next to me, giving me a full body scan before looking at Sophia. "Wow, this is early for you, Soph. I can't believe you're out of bed already."

"Oh, bite me, Rylan," Sophia retorts, but it's surprisingly playful. "Not everyone likes to get up at sparrow's fart like you."

Both Rylan and I turn to look at her, completely baffled. She chooses to face me, giving a sheepish smile. "Heard it on TikTok. Apparently, Australians say it when referring to early mornings."

A part of me wonders if I read her wrong. Maybe she's not as innocent as she seems if she’s friendly with this jerk. But still, I laugh at her weird comment, wondering how the hell bird farts have anything to do with early mornings.

I’m still perplexed by the exchange though. While I have made the effort to be an approachable leader for the Cedar Heights students, most of Willowbrook seem to fear their masters—tending to every command like they aren't worthy or equals. But this girl doesn't flinch at all with Rylan's remarks. And he doesn’t seem upset at her snark reply. If anything, he seems amused.

I hope they aren't dating or fucking. That would be awkward.

"I'm happy to bite you anytime, Sophia. You just have to ask."

"You can leave now," I shoot at him. "It's too early to be dealing with you, and to be honest, I've already used up my quota of patience for you this week."

Rylan gives me his usual smug smile. "Is it because of last night? Did I ruin your dicking?"

Sophia gawks at us in confusion. I turn to face him, propping a hand on my hip. "You ruin everything. Your presence alone in a five mile radius has that effect."

He scans me again, raising a quirky eyebrow at my itsy bitsy teenie weenie shorts that are barely visible. Returning the favor in an attempt to make him uncomfortable, I notice he's dressed in gym clothes too—dammit, apparently he’s in this class as well. I have the worst luck.

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