“I think you need to tell people to back off him,” Mena said.
“I never told anyone to lay into him in the first place.” I hadn’t been lying when I told Hendrix I wasn’t telling people to make his life hell.
“I know that, but people listen to you. They’ll stop if you tell them to.”
I bristled. That would feel like admitting I was wrong. “Look, I know some people have started taking things too far, but that’s not my fault. He was a complete jerk to me, and he turned his nose up at every single person in our school. He’s been disrespectful and antagonizing every time I’ve spoken to him. I’m not gonna just stand there and take that. I’m going to defend myself and you guys, no matter what it takes. He started this.”
Mena looked down into her lap and frowned. She clearly didn’t agree with everything I’d said, but she knew firsthand how far I’d go to protect the three people sitting at that table with me.
When we’d found out she was being bullied at her last school, I pulled every thread I could think of to make her tormentors pay. I’d called in favors I was holding on to for after college to protect her.
“He started it.” Harlow mimicked my voice, and I smacked her shoulder. She pinched my thigh in response.
“Ouch!” I yanked her ponytail, and then we both burst into giggles.
“Seriously though”—she straightened her hair—“I’ve never seen you this worked up. He’s just an asshole with an ego. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had the hots for him.”
“Oh, please.” I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.
“Holy shit.” Amaya sat up. “Is that why you don’t want to call the dogs off? You’re worried the other girls will think it’s open season?”
“No.” My answer was immediate and firm. But now that she mentioned it, I didn’t like the idea of a sea of teal pleated skirts hanging off his every move. But that was only because I didn’t want him to have anyone to hang out with—as he’d insisted he didn’t want. That was all. It wasn’t because I secretly liked him.
“You’re bullying him.” Mena finally raised her gaze, making Amaya and Harlow pause in their taunting and poking at my sides.
I reeled back as if she’d slapped me. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You all are. The entire school. He may be big enough to defend himself from most physical attacks, but what happens when people decide to gang up on him? What happens when they get a group together, drag him out to the football field, tie him to the goalpost . . .” She swallowed as I shared a wide-eyed look with the other two. “Because they decide they need to prove a point. Prove your point.”
She was describing the horrific things that had been done to her.
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I’d never let that happen, Philomena.”
“Not intentionally.” She slowly pulled her hand out from under mine. “But can’t you see that you’re doing to him what they did to me?”
I sat back and really thought about it. Was I instigating the mean, petty shit Fulton students were doing to Hendrix? No. But did I start the campaign against him to prove a point? Yes, I absolutely did. And did I get satisfaction from how thoroughly he was being punished for treating me with disrespect? I’d be lying if I said no. It was why I’d let it go on.
But the thought of being as bad as her bullies in Mena’s eyes broke my heart.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I forced the emotion back. I refused to cry in front of other people.
“I think she’s right.” Harlow fiddled with her napkin. “We need to take Mena’s view on the situation seriously, considering.”
Amaya nodded. “D, we know you’re not intending to bully him, but I do think we need to be wary of this escalating. Fulton is a whole other ballgame. You know that if any of those shits pulled the kind of stunt Mena went through, they wouldn’t even see the inside of a police station before their parents’ money took care of the problem.”
“You’re right.” I nodded and licked my lips. “You’re all right. I refuse to let him talk to me like shit, but I don’t agree with how things have been escalating. I’ll do something about it on Monday.”
“We will.” Harlow smiled, reminding me I wasn’t alone in this . . . even though it sometimes felt like it.
“It’ll be fine.” Amaya flipped her long black hair over a delicate shoulder. “We just need to remind those idiots they have reputations to uphold. Nothing brings rich brats into line like the threat of embarrassing their parents.”
Mena smiled, already looking lighter. “I love you girls.”
“Love you,” the three of us chorused.
“Ugh!” Amaya slapped the table. “Enough heavy shit. Let’s go get Starbucks.”
We walked two blocks to the nearest one and got giant cups of sugar and caffeine.
Out on the sidewalk, Mena sucked on her straw while typing out a text. When Harlow and Amaya joined us, she put the phone away.
“Turner is about to go on his break. Mind if we swing by his work?” she asked.
“Not at all!” I looped my arm through hers, and we took off down the street. Her boyfriend still went to her last school—Devilbend North High School—and the two of them were adorable together. But Mena worked at a diner closer to where she lived, and Turner had just recently gotten a job at a gym downtown, so they had less and less time to spend with each other. I couldn’t blame them for seizing every opportunity.
As we rounded the corner and strolled toward the gym’s front doors, our steps gradually slowed to a stop; each of us was staring through the window, transfixed.
My first response was a spike of annoyance—I couldn’t seem to get away from this jerk!—but it was soon replaced with a grudging appreciation.
Only a small part of the gym was visible through the front window, the neat rows of machines disappearing around the corner. Hendrix was on a machine close to the glass, sitting on a bench with his knees spread wide, his arms pulling down on some weighted contraption. He was shirtless and so sweaty he was fucking glistening. It seemed as if half the muscles in his body danced under his skin at every movement.
“Wow,” Harlow breathed, sucking the dregs of her drink with an obnoxiously loud slurp.
“I have a boyfriend, and even I can’t look away.” Mena tilted her head to the side, eyes glued to the show.
“You’re only human.” Amaya shrugged. “But fuck me. Why is it always the assholes that look like that?”
“Is that a tattoo?” If I’d been with anyone other than my three best friends, I would’ve been embarrassed at how breathy my voice sounded. There was definitely some ink on the left side of his back, just under his shoulder blade, but we were too far away to make it out.
That didn’t stop us from leaning forward as one, our foreheads nearly touching the glass, as we tried to see what it was.
“You ladies wouldn’t be objectifying our newest member, would you?” A deep, masculine voice made us all jump. Mena even made a little squeaking sound in the back of her throat that had us all cracking up in embarrassed laughter.