“Art?” West asks.
“He fucking paints. And, of course, he painted her. Says he’s shipping it to her this week. How the fuck am I supposed to compete with shit like that?”
“Does this mean you intend to start competing?” West asks, and I hate that I’m mildly interested in this conversation. It’s at least a distraction from the impending doom that awaits me when Headmaster Harrison calls on me.
Dane sighs before reaching a conclusion. “I… no. We’re not right for each other. She’s got her whole… ‘virginity pledge’ situation I’d only fuck up. Literally,” he adds. “But that dickhead isn’t right for her either,” he insists, sounding like he’s outdoors now, which reminds me the dismissal bell recently rang.
“Shit!” Dane growls. “And if I say anything about it, I’ll just sound like a hater.”
“Pretty much,” West sighs.
“Anyway, I gotta get to practice. What should I tell Coach when he asks where you are?”
In my peripheral, I’m aware of West peering down on me.
“Just tell him I had to take care of something first, so I’ll be a little late.”
“Sweet. Later.”
He ends the call then and I bury my face back in my shirt when I slouch. Now, without their conversation to focus on, I’m a bundle of nerves again, thinking about how enormously I just messed up.
I’m so aware of West I feel that telling electricity that moves over my skin whenever he’s near. I smell him in the air surrounding me, and it brings with it a boatload of sadness. There was a short time, between hateful exchanges, where I actually let myself find comfort in that scent. But now, it’s only a reminder of being covered in whatever cologne he wears after being naked in his bed. Felt like no matter how hard I scrubbed, I smelled like him for days. Every time I breathed in, I breathed him in.
He didn’t magically stop being attractive because he hurt me. I’d still venture to say he’s one of the most beautiful specimens I’ve ever laid eyes on. But most things that are deadly have some sort of appeal. Difference is, I’m no longer under his spell. No longer blind to his beauty only being skin-deep.
Inside?
Pure evil.
And now, I’m pissed. Even more than I was before, because he can’t seem to grant the one wish I’ve made since everything went down. All I asked for was some damn space.
“Why are you here?” I growl. “To snitch on me? To make sure Headmaster Harrison escalates my probation to an expulsion?”
He sighs heavily and I’m this close to peering up at him, but fight it. Instead, staring at my navel ring while I sulk inside my tee.
“I’m—”
As soon as that one word leaves West’s mouth, a door opens and I pop out of my shirt and smooth my hair back. Headmaster Harrison volleys a look between West and I before inviting me into his office.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to come in, too,” West asserts, pulling that same polite bit he fooled Uncle Dusty with.
He earns himself a curious glare from Harrison, but he ultimately agrees. “Sure, son.”
I nearly scoff out loud. Of course, the man in charge calls him son. I’d even bet his dad golfs with the dude every Sunday, because life is so fair.
The door latches behind us and I hesitate to take the chair beside West, but there’s no place else to sit.
Harrison’s skimming something on his computer and I’m trying to hide how hard I’m shaking. This is deeper than an expulsion for me, because all I can think about is what Scar’s principal threatened yesterday. Sure, I forged Mom’s signature on that paperwork, and impersonated her on a call this morning, but that wasn’t enough to stop the school from digging if they thought there was good reason to do so.
And I’d possibly just given them reason to do so.
“Based on what I’m seeing here on Mrs. C’s referral, you … hit West, Ms. Riley? Is that correct?”
“Sir, I—”
“It was an accident,” West cuts in. “I’m sure it looked different from Mrs. C’s angle, but Blue was only trying to stop my shot. It was a clean block.”
Mouth open, I glance toward West, trying to wrap my head around the lie he just told. With how hard I socked him, his jaw has to still be throbbing, yet he’s trying to save my ass.
I turn to face Harrison and I’m met with a curious stare. He settles back into his seat, seemingly deep in thought.
“The two of you have had quite a few… interesting interactions lately,” he observes. “Blue, as I’m certain you’re aware, your probationary status puts you at great risk should you be found at fault for one more school-related incident.”
“I’m aware, sir,” I rush to say.
“And, West, this wouldn’t be an attempt to spare Ms. Riley from expulsion, would it?”
West shoots a clueless stare at the headmaster. “No, sir. Hearing you mention it is the first time I’ve heard anything about probation,” he lies.
But why is he lying?
All this time, this is exactly what he wanted—to ruin me, to see me get kicked out on my ass, and now… he’s defending me?
Harrison isn’t buying this any more than I am, which is why that pen of his is tapping the edge of his desk nonstop.
My heart races with the sound, wondering if West’s word is enough to combat Mrs. C’s. I suppose it’s a matter of who Harrison regards more highly. A fellow member of the CPA staff, or West.
There’s a moment of silence that fills me with dread, and then Harrison speaks again.
“All right. I’ll play along,” he says with a smirk. “But next time an issue like this arises, godson or not, West, I won’t bend any rules.”
“Understood, sir,” West says, standing to shake his freakin’ godfather’s hand.
Of course, Harrison’s his godfather. As if the scales weren’t already tilted unfairly in West’s direction.
I stand, hoping to get out of there before Harrison can change his mind, but I end up catching his and West’s conversation as I gather my things.
“Looks like your face had a target on it even before Ms. Riley got ahold of you,” Harrison teases, referencing Ricky’s handiwork from their fight.
West lets out a tight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his answer. “Yeah, I guess you could say it’s been a strange few days.”
“I bet. I’ll have to give the wife a heads up not to be too startled when she sees you next week at Thanksgiving dinner. Your old man didn’t change his mind about dining with us, did he?”
“No, sir,” West answers with a laugh. “We’re all looking forward to it.”
“Well, we’re excited to have you all. And we’ll be watching the big game this weekend as well.”
“Then, I’ll do my best to make sure I don’t let you down,” West answers, spewing that fake politeness again.
“I’m sure you boys will pull out another win for us,” Harrison concludes.
Talk of the semifinals reminds me that, come Friday, I’ll be right back in the trenches with the team for the weekend. My stomach twists at the thought of it.