Page 69 of Make Me Pretty
Sierra scoffs. “Tell that to your face, Baxter.” I flip her off as they walk away and round the corner.
“Peris.” My name is snapped. I blink a few times, watching as the bustling room comes back into focus.
“What?”
“Over here.” Gabe jerks his head toward the hallway that leads to the locker rooms. I follow after him, eyes catching on the door to the men’s room as we pass. I blink through flashes of pink shoes on concrete, wet lips dripping saliva, cum painting bruised porcelain.
“Damn, dude. Where’s your head?”
“Long fucking gone,” I reply absentmindedly. Gabe rears back, coming to a full stop. He whirls around, and the twist of his lips tells me I’m not getting out of this one.
I toss my head back with a groan, pushing my hair back from my face. “Gabe, I don’t?—”
“Mmm,yep. I don’t care. Spill.” He leans back against the white cinderblock wall and crosses his arms. “Or I’m not telling you where it is.”
I pin him with a glare, which is about as effective as punching concrete and expecting it to break. Exasperation floods my veins. The bell is going to ring any minute, and if I skip class, I don’t get to play, and Abel is justso close—“There’s nothing to say.”
“I call bullshit.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Well, you do now.” His legs cross at his ankles, and the stretch of his tailored, black slacks reveal purple and green socks with tacos on them.
My brows furrow before I snort at the incredulity of it all. I readjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “You were right.”
He blinks. “Of course, I was.” He pauses for a beat. “About what, though?”
I snort and shake my head. “Well, if you don’t know,I’mnot telling you. You’re annoying enough as it is.”
A dark brow hikes beneath his mop of curly hair as he watches me pace back and forth. Cool, damp air oozes from the concrete floors, creating a line of goosebumps along the backs of my arms. Gabe doesn’t budge—because of course, he fucking doesn’t.Why must I attract all the stubborn shitheads?
My eyes catch on the black and white analog clock to my left. The second hand ticks closer to the twelve, now only six minutes away from the bell ringing. My gaze darts between the clock and Gabe, two, three times before I throw my hands up.
“About me being the fucking problem, okay?”
“Okay.” He nods. “But why do you agree now?”
A growl rumbles at the base of my throat. “Gabriel, I need to find him, so just fucking show me, and we’ll talk later.” His eyes are hot pinpricks up and down my body, once again catching around my neck. I yank my collar up. “What the hell are you looking at?”
“The scratches, man. Did you even look in the mirror?”
I scoff, even as my face bursts into flames. “Of course, I did. They’re covered.” My molars slam together.
He huffs a breath through his nose. “Yeah… sure they are. Did you think about how they were gonna look when you’re suited for the game tonight?”
“No, not exactly. Now, if you don’t mind…” I twirl my hand around, pushing him to move.
“All right, all right. But I’m commandeering you later.”
“As if I have a choice,” I mutter, following behind him as he takes the stairs to the upper-level track. It’s dark and quiet as I stare down at the gymnasium below. Shiny, golden-brown floors with bright lines of color. The purple bleachers are already extended for the game tonight with banners hanging across the walls.
“You ready for tonight? Got your head on straight?”
I scoff. “Dude, my head is so far from straight it’s not even fucking funny.”
Gabe’s head whips around, a beaming smile on his face. “Please tell me that means what I think it means. It was those pictures, wasn’t it?”
My nails dig into my nape as my eyes dart to the floor. “Don’t fucking talk about the goddamn pictures!” I snap without thinking. When Gabe just blinks, I sigh loudly. “I thought we were talking about it later.”
