All of us here, we were only surviving, just trying to make it to the next day and possibly find a little bit of enjoyment from a quick high or a good fuck. Because a few seconds of bliss was honestly as good as it got for us.
With one breath, all trace of vulnerability disappeared, and in its place materialized something untouchable. A wry smile pulled at Monroe’s lips, and she patted my cheek. “Don’t go soft on me, Hunt,” she said before slipping out of the stall.
For the rest of the afternoon, the image of her bruised body stayed at the forefront of my mind, the word survival playing on a loop. I sat in the back of Weaver’s class, head down like always, but instead of sleeping, I was thinking. About her. About Max, and how I wanted to smash in his face.
By the time I had finished up with detention, I had pretty much plotted Harford’s death. Wolf was in the parking lot, throwing his football gear into the bed of his truck when I came out of the school.
“What’d you have detention for?”
I pulled a cigarette from my pocket and lit it before fastening my backpack to my bike. “Smoking on campus.”
“Lame.” An engine revved on the highway, rock music blaring. I glanced over the deserted parking lot as an electric-blue, vintage Corvette Stingray barreled around the school’s entrance. It fishtailed when it took a turn into the lot, then raced around to the side of the school.
“Who the hell has a car like that in Dayton?” Wolf asked.
“Nobody.”
Monroe jogged out of the building to the passenger door of the Vette then climbed inside. The car sped past, slowing in front of us long enough for me to catch sight of Max Harford with his shit-eating grin before he peeled out onto the highway.
That was when I decided I would let that stupid rumor about Monroe and me spread; that I’d dump gasoline on it and set fire to it because if people thought she was mine, he wouldn’t be able to touch her.
8
Monroe
Balancing my coffee in one hand, I dialed the combination for my locker and tugged it open. I was running on three hours of sleep after working last night, and I’d debated ditching this morning, but that wasn’t going to get me out of that strip club or this shit town. I grabbed my books and rounded the corner, stepping straight into the path of a fight. A jock shoved some guy right into me, knocking me over and sending my books and coffee flying across the hall.
Glaring at him, I rolled to my feet. “Thanks, dickhead.”
Zepp was like a predator; all the little birds stopped tittering when he was near. Maybe that was why I felt him before the guy’s gaze slid past me, and the color drained from his face.
“Give her, her fucking books.” The low growl came over my shoulder.
The guy nearly dropped to his knees to scoop up my belongings, dusting off the covers before handing them to me. I didn’t need Zepp’s help. I could fight my own battles.
When I turned around to shout at Zepp, he was halfway down the hall with Hendrix and Wolf.
Ever since I’d made that deal with him, my life had been nothing but upheaval. I didn’t like his attention, and I definitely didn’t enjoy the way my body threatened to betray me anytime he got a little too close. I couldn’t deal with going to the cafeteria and playing our twisted little game. So instead, I marched outside to the parking lot, sat on the hood of my crappy car, and texted Jade.
A few minutes later, she snuck around the side of the building, then sprinted across the parking lot and hopped up beside me. “You okay?”
A cloud rolled across the sun, stealing the warmth for a moment. “Yeah, I just needed to get away from all... that.” I waved a hand toward the school.
“You mean Zepp and Hendrix?” She laughed when I narrowed my eyes.
A few of the football players made their way out of the gymnasium, heading toward the football field, Chase in the middle. He glanced across the parking lot and shot me one of his charming smiles, then waved.
Jade leaned back against the windshield, a dreamy glaze to her eyes that almost made me embarrassed for her. “Chase is hot. Why haven’t you ever dated him?”
I laughed. The idea of Chase and I being anything aside from strictly platonic was amusing. He might have been the popular guy now, but that boy had always been too nice for his own good. Football was the only thing that saved his ass from getting beaten.
“Chase isn’t my type,” I said.
“No one’s your type.”
That wasn’t true. Zepp was exactly my type, and I evidently had horrible taste in men because Chase was far less of an asshole.
“You sure you aren’t lesbian?” she asked on a snort.
I rolled my eyes. “If I turn, you’ll be the first one to know.”
The breeze kicked up, and the clouds rolled away, allowing sunlight back through.
“Look, you’re hot, but I don’t want you.” Jade exhaled on a laugh. “I also don’t want to get beaten up by Zepp.”
That cut all humor. “I hate him.”
“He looks at you like he wants to bend you over something and go to town.”
My cheeks heated when I glared at her, and she had the nerve to smile.
Jade pushed off the hood of my car. “And you look at him like you’d let him.”
“I do not! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am. Which is why I think you should bang him.”
The girl was unbelievable. “You’re insane, Jade.” I slid off the car and started after her.
“Just saying. It wouldn’t be the worst experience in the world.”
“I am not fucking Zepp!”
She threw me a look that said she absolutely did not believe me, then thankfully changed the topic of conversation to gossip about one of the teachers who was screwing around with a student.
We walked around the track until the bell rang to change class, then we went back inside before parting ways. I hooked a right down one of the corridors, my steps faltering when I saw Zepp in the middle of the hallway, forcing students to pour around him. Tattooed arms folded over his chest as his gaze zeroed in on me like he’d been waiting for my arrival. The way he looked at me as he approached made my cheeks heat and my pulse hiccup. He threw his arm around my shoulders, the distinct smell of male that oozed from him almost suffocating me.
“I’ll pick you up tonight at eight.” Zepp threaded a tendril of my hair around his finger, smirking like the bastard he was. “Wear that red-plaid skirt of yours. And a white crop top.”
The words grated over my nerves like sandpaper. “Do I look like your personal Barbie?”
“And a red-lace bra,” he continued, his eyes on my chest. “If you don’t have one, I’m sure I could find one somewhere around the house.” A sly grin spread across his lip. “What are you? 34D?”
I folded my arms in front of me. “You should probably ask Leah. She’d appreciate dressing up like a fuck doll.”
That didn’t even get a reaction. Talking to Zepp was like talking to a brick wall. “And, of course, the boots.” He glanced at my feet and raked his teeth over his lip on a subtle groan.
I left him there. I wouldn’t wear any of that shit on pure principle.