Page 90 of Riot Act
“I still feel sick. I have an upset stomach, too. Happy to provide a fecal sample if you need one.”
The guy, Danny, laughs. He taps some notes into his iPad, documenting my phony visit, and then sets the tablet down. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. Here. Take this to reception and then head home. Get some rest. I’d hate for you to have to sit through a full day of classes if you felt sick.” He hands me a printout that looks like a receipt, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He knows I’m fine, but what’s he supposed to do? Tell me to stop being a little shit and head back to English? I’m eighteen years old. I can walk right out of the academy and there’s nothing he can do to stop me. Plus, he weighs next to nothing; I could bench three of him, easy. I’d like to see him try and keep me here against my will. He wouldnotlike the consequences.
I take the stupid receipt to the school receptionist, who blanches, hand shaking when she takes it from me, like I’m about to hop over the desk and assault her or something. Then I realize that I’ve left my cell on the chair in the med bay, which is just fucking great. I head all the way back over to the other side of the building, only to witness Chase being carried through the door to one of the computer labs in the arms of a guy who most definitely isnota Wolf Hall student.
Tall, with almost blond hair, he’s sporting a whole bunch of ink—the bad kind that you get in a low rent back alley shop off the Vegas strip when you’re fucked out of your mind. The kind of ink that identifies a guy as a straight up asshole loser. I think he sees me, but I can’t be sure. If he does, then he’s got some brass balls, ’cause he clearly doesn’t give a flying fuck that someone’s clocked him.
It's not that I’m intrigued. No. That’s definitely not it. I couldn’t care less if Chase has gotten herself into shit; it was bound to happen, her mouth being as colossally smart as it recently is. The vibe I get from the guy who manhandled her through the doorway, though…he looked like a piece of work. Arrogant. Nasty. He didn’t even blink when he saw me, as if there was no wayImight pose a problem tohim. I don’t like that. It smacks ofnext levelarrogance. On any given day, I’d gladly burn this place down to the ground and wouldn’t even break my stride, but that doesn’t mean that rando strangers can just show up here and just wonder around like they own the goddamn place. Yeah, that’s just not fucking happening.
I move quickly, beelining for the computer lab. The academy is hundreds of years old, so there are no windows in the antique mahogany doors. I can’t spy on them that way, so I toe the heavy weight of the wood back, shoving it open just enough to peek through the gap into the room.
The stranger is setting Chase down on the floor by the window on the far side of the room. She comes to—fuck, she wasunconscious?—just as I slip inside the classroom. Chase starts, real fucking jump, when she sees the dude. They’re glowering at each other, neither one of them paying any attention to the fact that they’re not alone. I dip into one of the old Gothic recesses that form an alcove in the in the stonework. The perfect place to loiter and eavesdrop on a conversation.
“You really are the dumbest bitch I’ve ever come across,” the guy snarls. His tone is acid, rough from cigarette smoke. “You thought I wouldn’t figure it out? You thought I wouldn’t know?”
“Know what, Jonah? I haven’tsaidanything!”
“Dad’s been calling and messaging me non-stop. He knows something’s up. He asked me if anything weird happened that night. He wanted to know if we had a fight.”
Chase lets her head hang. She rubs at her temples, shrinking away from this Jonah character like he’s the fucking devil himself. “Just…back off, okay. I haven’t said a word to him. He’s just being overprotective.”
“I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”
Chase gets to her feet. It doesn’t look like she should be standing whatsoever. She looks even more unsteady on her feet when the asshole grabs her by the tops of her arms and shakes her. “Jonah, let me go,” she hisses.
My blood starts to sing in my veins. A red-hot wall of anger comes crashing down on me, a red veil clouding my vision. The next thing I know, some idiot hisses out two short sentences that bring the whole mess to a standstill.
“You heard her.Let her fucking go.”
The idiot…is me.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. As far as my brain is concerned, it issued no orders to move out from the alcove, but somehow, for some reason, I’m standing in the middle of the computer lab now with my bag at my feet and my hands turned into fists. What the fuckingfuck?
The stranger’s perturbed expression matches my confusion. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks.
“He’s…no one. Just a guy from my creative writing class,” Chase says quickly.
What in the actualfuck?
Just a guy from my creative writing class? Nice. You save a girl’s life and give her some of the best orgasms she’s ever likely to experience, and this is the thanks you get. Honest to God.
Jonah assesses me darkly. “All right. Well, move your ass, Creative Writing Guy. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, but it does, though.”
He frowns. “How could this possibly be any of your fucking business, bro?”
“Because I’vedecidedthat it’s my business. That’s all you need to be worried about.”
“Hah.” His bark of laughter drips with derision. “I’m not in the habit of worrying about—”
Chase chooses now to break free from the guy’s hold. She attempts to wrench herself out of his grasp, but this Jonah tightens his grip. “Ahhh, Jonah! That hurts!”
Nope.
No…fucking…way.
Ireact.
