Page 72 of The Deceptions
“Yes, you will, you rat. You’ll squeal the moment you leave here. I should just put an end to your miserable life.” She grins, running the blade down my arm until my flesh parts like butter. It pools there, slowly dripping onto the ugly green tile. “But I won’t. Not now.” With that, she shrugs, putting her knife into her pocket with a demented grin. “Come on, girls, we’re going to miss lunch. Have a good day, loser.” I blink several times when the girls slowly let me go and follow their leader out of the bathroom.
“Fuck,” I grumble, marching to the sink and washing the blood off my arm.
Psychotic bitch. I don’t understand why she targets me the way she does. Doesn’t she have anything better to do with her life than make mine miserable? Everyone at Greenwood High gives me a wide berth thanks to my three best friends and their association with the cruelest man in town. Nathaniel Franco could take her down with the flick of his wrist. If he wanted to, that is. She’s nearly invincible because of her father and his association with people in high places all over town, coveting high profile officials in his pocket. All the while working with Franco.
My trembling fingers work up the edge of the long scar on my arm. Carved by a jealous high school girl who couldn’t handle the fact that my guys wanted nothing to do with her. No matter how many times her rich daddy tried to intervene and secure her prized golden goose. Franco never considered it. Not back then, anyway. Seems Amanda’s daddy worked his way onto Franco’s good side.
So, this is where the mean girls go when they’ve graduated high school. They don’t leave town to seek better opportunities. They stay here, go to college, and probably make everyone’s lives miserable until they move on to a townhouse in the heart of the city, never leaving unless they’re on vacation.
I blink several times, coming to the realization I’ve been staring at my former bully with a twisted expression. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go unnoticed by her like it did at the party last night. She stares back with a vicious expression that would turn a lesser man’s stomach into knots. Good thing I’m not a man.
Her nose scrunches up when she stands from the bench, tossing her bright blonde locks over her shoulder and putting her phone in her purse. “You’ve got a staring problem, asshole.” She says it so easily like a melody on the damn breeze. Or a record scratching.
I clear my throat, lowering my arms to my sides. “Not really.” I shrug, turning on my heels and giving her my back with the intention of getting the hell out of dodge.
To her, I’m a man standing in the hallway staring at her weirdly. But to me, I’m still that helpless little girl subjected to her bullying tactics and refusing to tell my best friends about it. I didn’t need them interfering. It made me look weaker than I was. Besides, they only made the bullying worse. Even if they knew what was happening. That day, they were waiting for me outside the bathroom with grim expressions. They didn’t force me to tellthem who it was. Because they knew. They always did. So color me surprised to find out that she and Hux are engaged. What does it matter, anyway? They killed me. She bullied me. They’re a match made in hell.
“No, I think you do,” she sneers, her heels pounding against the beautiful marble floors and getting closer to me. Her tiny fingers dig into my shoulder, stopping my retreat until I’m turning and facing her. Well, looking down at her. Being a girl who is over five-foot-ten has its advantages sometimes. Like now, when I’m pretending to be a man. Or staring down the girl who made my life miserable.
Damn, she’s stronger than she looks.
I glare down at her, raising a brow. “I don’t.” I shrug with indifference. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it's not to give in to your bullies and simply leave them with indifference. It pisses them off.
Her nose scrunches further. “You do! You were staring at me!” she hisses, poking me in the chest aggressively.
Yeah, I was trying to figure out what I was looking at.It’s what I want to say, but I bite my tongue. Nothing good would come out of me mouthing off to her. It would only put a target on my back, and I don’t need one of those. In fact, I need to get into her good graces. But if she keeps poking me with her fingers, I might snap.
Without thinking, I grab her fingers and hold them mid-air. I don’t twist them or squeeze with all my might, but I do make a silent threat with my steady grip. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” My gaze flicks between her fingers and her open jaw. “I don’t have an issue with you. It’s you who is making this an issue.” My voice drops so low, it’s so unlike myself. “Now, don’t fucking touch me again.” I level her with my best glare, leaning in close so she gets the message.
“Let go of me!” She shouts loudly enough that her voice echoes off the damn walls. Her left hand, shiny with a pretty engagement ring, pulls at my fingers to release her. “Let go of me, you pervert!” She shrieks again with urgency, her breaths frantically heaving in her chest.
I’d believe her panic if there wasn’t an evil shadow lurking in the backs of her eyes whenever her gaze flicks over me.
“She said to let the fuck go of her.”
Everything inside me freezes. Ice flows through my veins at the sound of his deep voice reverberating from behind me. A voice that hasn’t graced my presence in five years. A voice that haunts me every fucking day. Fuck. My fingers lose their grip, and Amanda stumbles backward, whining about her wrist and the pain it’s bringing her. Yeah, fucking right.
But nothing compares to the vise around my heart, relentlessly squeezing it. I knew coming face to face with one of them so closely was going to be a challenge. Seeing them from a distance in the car was off-putting. Being in the same vicinity as them at the house party was earth-shattering. Even when I saw his lookalike so many years ago, sitting in the restaurant in East Point, California. Right before I enrolled in their prep school as Espie, the new student. I froze in the stranger’s presence then. It was like looking at the man I had fallen in love with. Tattoos on every inch of him. The same moss-green eyes reflecting back at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Not until I realized it couldn’t have been him. Not in this lifetime. Not in East Point.
It was at that point in my life when I wished upon a star, begging the universe to never bring me face to face with Huxley Crewes again.
Boy, did that star let me down.
Now, Huxley Crewes stands before me, coddling Amanda Devalle in his massive arms. His jaw twitches when he looks from her wrist to me. I swear the moment his moss-green eyesflick up and down my body, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My chest tightens being so close to him, yet so far away.
And rage boils inside me.
Who can completely forget about the boys who murdered me? I couldn’t. Not fully.
Now, I have to face them all again. My demons. My murderers. Talk with them. Pretend I’m not dying on the inside every time I look at them or see their eyes.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” she wails, tears flowing down her reddened cheeks. “I just asked him what his problem was with me because he was staring like a perv!” she accuses, throwing her arms all around.
I swallow the thick lump lining my throat. “I was leaving and she approached me,” I say, standing tall. Yup. Time to seal those pesky emotions bursting at the seams inside me.
Don’t show him your fear. He’s like a bloodhound, sniffing it out. Don’t show him your weaknesses, or you’ll never get close enough to send him and his friends to prison.
So, as much as I want to say that bitch started it. I play it cool. I fold my hands in front of me with my schedule still squeezed in my fingers and rock on my heels. I can almost hear Jordy’s voice in my head telling me to puff out my chest and seem more alpha in the face of danger. Sure, Jordy. Easier said than done.
