Page 44 of The Devils They Are

"I told you. Dad doesn't want to upset his political campaign," I murmur, unable to take my eyes off the purple-haired woman. She laughs at something someone has said, her hand covering her mouth to hide the fact that she's mid chew. She must have painted her nails again on the weekend—this week's color is a vibrant green, and I can't help but wonder if it's partly because of me.

After our chat on Friday night, I woke up yesterday to my socials blowing up with news about Lawless Dragons. Bexley and I were right—they are dropping a new album next month. When they posted the promo for it, I was instantly excited for the neon green and black steampunk vibes.

We spent all Sunday texting about it, sharing snippets of clips that we found online. And now her nails reflect the theme perfectly.

Like Friday, as soon as I met up with Tai and Hunter today, they bombarded me with more questions. When I told them Friday that we would be backing off from Bexley and the other Cedar Heights students, they asked me if I was serious. Well, I believe the words more accurately were, "Are you drunk?". But they settled for the bare minimum explanation when I held them off by saying I'd fill them in later.

And now unfortunately, later has come.

Tai fell on board pretty much straight away, indifferent to it all, even if he was skeptical as to the reasons. But Hunter is still in strong disagreement. Even worse, he's pissed at me for making a call without the input of the other two.

Our little wolf pack has been together for years, and as a courtesy, we agreed that we'd always make decisions as a team—or at least, best two out of three.

So, in Hunter's eyes, I essentially steamrolled them.

"We all know that the campaigns have no influence on votes," Hunter points out in annoyance. "He just doesn't want to piss off the Willowbrook alumni by being caught up in a scandal. This is all about saving face. But it does nothing to help our situation which should be the main focus."

"Look, I know," I sigh. "But our dads are upset. Even George got pulled into it."

Tai shoots me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Ry. On the plus side, he's still in Italy for another week. You can always come to mine if you need a break from Max. You know Mary adores you."

"Mary's the only good thing about your house," I joke. "Oh, and your sister."

"Leave my sister out of this," Tai warns, only half-jokingly. "Or I'll rip your balls off."

Hunter laughs, apparently delighted by the idea of my physical harm. After all, I'm the Brotherhood Betrayer right now. Shit—that would be an awesome name for a Lawless Dragons' song.

"Fuck their reputations," Hunter murmurs, getting us back on track. "Spencer needs to pay for what she did."

My brows pull together while I carefully navigate this. Neither of them knows I've been chatting to Bexley outside of school, or that we met last Thursday night. If they knew, I'd probably be chained to a tree and pelted with rotten fruit or silicone dildos.

"We deserved it," I say without thinking. I didn't mean to say it out loud… Obviously that was the wrong thing to say.

Hunter slams down his hand on the table, startling the people around us. "Fuck that," he growls quietly. "Cedar's little princess needs to stay in her lane. I found a picture of a chair inside my locker this morning with a note asking if the desk was lonely."

Tai snorts, quickly turning it into a cough. "Sorry, man. That sucks."

"Oh, save me the pity, T," Hunter groans. "At least you managed to block those numbers and find the source of your pain."

Grindr.

Yep—Bexley had plastered Tai's burner number onto a fake Grindr profile with the words, 'About to have a hard week. Make it better by sending hard, dripping cock pics. Desperate and needy little slut.' Once we were able to get the profile taken down, the messages stopped. Though, Tai has made it his personal mission to stalk the Cedar Heights' Facebook group for info and dirty secrets. I'm surprised he hasn't leaked her number in an act of revenge.

But true to her word, no one from Cedar has said anything. The videos they shared inside the group were taken down and Bexley made an announcement post about trying for an amicable environment—though I couldn't help but notice she hasn't disclosed our secret little chats either.

I never thought I'd see the day where I actually enjoyed talking to her, but for some reason, we just click. Hell, in another life, we could probably be friends.

Yes… friends.

Except friends don't get hard thinking about their friends. Let alone their enemies.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Friday night I got carried away. The more playful our banter got, the more my dick started twitching and taking over my rationality. Every time she shot back some witty reply, challenging me, I found myself wondering if that carries over into the bedroom.

Then we got to the part about our attire. When I asked her if she was thinking about me naked, I quickly realized I was in the danger zone—because I was suddenly thinking about her naked.

Her soft, pink lips have been my focus all lunch break and I find myself itching to text her; to talk about music or how stupid the pop quiz was this morning.

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