“You spread the rumour, didn’t you?” I whisper, my voice trembling with disbelief.
Her silence is all the confirmation I need. Her gaze drops, and the subtle shift in her expression says everything. It was her.
I should have known. Deep down, maybe I did. In fact, I had been told in that note. I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. But knowing doesn’t dull the sting of betrayal.
Naomi turns to leave without a word, without an apology. And it only makes me angrier. The bitterness clings to my tongue as I watch her retreat, it is hurting my heart more than I’d like to admit.
With trembling hands, I fumble to hide my face away. Burying it in the confined darkness of my locker because I have nowhere else. And because behind its metal door, I can let my tears flow freely. And it’s behind that metal door, that my heart breaks, silent sobs wracking my body.
Completely silent.
I wish I could stay hidden forever.
***
When I finally pull myself together, at least enough to think straight, I turn around and freeze.
Kai Steele.
He leans casually against the lockers opposite me, his presence filling the hallway like a shadow that doesn’t belong. His eyes are fixed on me, and I see him, and yet he doesn’t say a word.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“How much of that did you see?” I ask, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.
His expression remains unchanged, his eyes glinting with intensity. “Enough,” he says simply. “And what a lovely display of righteousness that was. That how you usually deal with things?” he adds, voice flat.
I freeze, hand still brushing the cold metal of the locker. For a second, I don’t know how to answer. Maybe because it’s true.Maybe because his presence unsettles something in me I don’t quite understand.
I glance at him, then away. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He shrugs. “Not asking for a speech. Just making an observation.”
“But she’s my sister,” I say quietly.
Something flickers in Kai Steele’s eyes then, too quick to name, but not quick enough to miss. A crack in the armour. Not empathy, not quite. Recognition, maybe.
But it’s gone before I can place it.
He exhales and lowers his voice just slightly. “Doesn’t mean she gets to wreck you. Unless… you enjoy the feeling of a leash around your neck? Is that it? Maybe it makes you feel important to be pulled around like some dog.”
I bite down on the words forming behind my teeth. It’s not worth it. He’s baiting me.
“There’s a difference,” he says calmly, yet there are storms in his eyes, “between being heroic and beingstupid.”
“I’m not being stupid.”
“Oh yeah?” he replies, taking a slow step closer.
But before he can move another step, I say, “You were the boy from the bus, weren’t you?”
He stops in his tracks. A half-smirk plays on his lips—charming in all the wrong ways. “Impressive,” he says. “Good eye.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He cocks his head. “You were already giving a monologue. I didn’t want to interrupt the show.”
I flush, embarrassed.
