Resignation.
And something sharper – something that reminds me too much of that night in the woods.
“Lex,” he says, voice annoyingly calm, “I’m eating.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I tilt my head, a slow, cruel smile pulling at my mouth.
“Just surprised you finally found someone willing to sit with you.”
A few people snicker.
Jamie’s jaw clenches.
But I’m not done. Not even close.
I lean in, voice dropping, dark enough to stain.
“You know, it’s cute how you walk around acting like this place won’t chew you up. Kingsley isn’t an art club. You don’t get points for being pretty and pathetic. Pussies like you don’t belong here.”
His breath hitches.
Good.
I raise my voice again so the whole area hears.
“Just a tip, Jamie—next time you want to play with the big kids, maybe try not looking like you walked out of a Goodwill photoshoot.”
The cafeteria laughs.
Jamie doesn’t.
His eyes go flat.
Cold.
Hurt.
And for a split second, something viciously satisfied twists under my ribs.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Let him learn we will never be friends, never be brothers, never be anything but enemies.
He stands, fists balled at his sides.
“I don’t know what your problem is,” he says, low and shaking, “but I am so fucking tired of you.”
I step closer, close enough to smell the faint mint gum he always chews, close enough to see the way his throat tightens when he swallows.
“You don’t get tired of me,” I murmured.
“You stay away from me.”
His breath catches.
I lean in even closer—too close—dangerously close.
