I turned away with shaking hands and plopped down on my bed. If he thought he was going to walk around like that, wearing seduction like a second skin, I’d burn this whole fucking school down.
Starting with his boyfriend.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Tru fumed.
“Thanks for the reminder.”
I should’ve left it there. I should’ve walked out and let him go. Instead, I went to my side of the room, opened my top drawer, and pulled out a shirt of my own. It was gray and worn in, soft from too many washes. Something I used to sleep in. I walked over and held it out.
He looked down at it, then up at me, wary. “Seriously?”
I didn’t say a word. Just extended my arm further until he finally took it. He pulled it on, tugging it down over his torso. It fit like it was made for him, and I wanted to scream.
“Thanks,” he said, deadpan.
My throat tightened. God, he looked good in my clothes. Better than he should. I shrugged. “At least it won’t get you laughed out of the house.”
He stepped past me without looking back and left the room smelling faintly like my cologne. Likemine. I sank onto my bed, breathing through my teeth, my chest tight. If that boyfriend of his got too close tonight, I hoped he’d choke on the scent of me.
Because he might’ve caught Tru’s interest, but I was the one who dressed him.
And I was the one who watched him walk away like he didn’t already belong to me.
My eyes dropped to the thin curl of red fabric lying like a wound on the floor, all that was left of his shirt. I didn’t know if I was proud of what I’d done. But I knew I’d smell him on that shirt when he brought it back. And right then, that was all I could think about.
The party was loud, bass vibrating through the floor, laughter spilling out from the kitchen, the backyard, and every goddamn open window. I was already on edge from the exchange with Tru, and I’d taken his obvious interest in coming tonight as my unofficial invitation.
Tru wasn’t hard to find. He never was. He stood out in a crowd like a neon sign flashingDo not touch.
I watched him from across the room, leaning against the fridge with a cup of something too pink. His hair curled a little from the heat, lips red from the drink, or maybe from that guy he came with.
That guy.
I didn’t know his name, nor did I care. In my head, he was simply fuckface. I just knew he stood too close and touched Tru too often. I counted every time he did it. By the fourth time, I nearly crushed the plastic cup in my hand.
It was barely even a touch, fingertips resting just above the waistband of those jeans Tru had no business wearing in public, but it made my vision blur. Something in myjaw clicked. I took another sip of the beer I didn’t even want.
I told myself it didn’t matter. That I didn’t care. But I was lying. And I was so goddamn sick of lying.
That asshole got to stand next to him like he deserved to. Like Tru was his to lean on. To laugh with. To kiss.
I hated it. No—I hated him.
It was easier than hating myself. Easier than thinking about how I’d told Tru to take off the shirt earlier, then offered him one of mine instead. Because I wanted him in something that smelled like me. Because I wanted anyone who looked at him to know he was mine.
Except he wasn’t. Not really.
And watching him laugh and blush with someone else was killing me.
The guy handed Tru another drink. I counted them. Four now. Maybe five. How many did he need to loosen up? To say yes? I hated the way he leaned in to whisper in Tru’s ear. Hated the way Tru smiled at whatever he said.
Look at me! Want me! Convince me to be as brave as you are.
My nails bit into the red plastic of my cup. My heart thudded like a war drum behind my ribs. And the worst part? Tru didn’t even look for me.
Not once.
The guy’s hand slipped lower. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but I saw it. I saw everything.
