Cal shot me a pained expression. I couldn’t have hurt him, or if I did, he couldn’t be feeling it yet, not with all the adrenaline still pumping in our veins. No, something else was in that look. He righted his clothes and snatched his bag off the floor. I followed suit and marched after him.
How bad would this be? Coach Sullivan wouldn’t want Cal in trouble, wouldn’t want to risk his players missing a game, but Ms. Haney saw us too.
Sweat cooled on my skin, making me shiver. The high wore off, leaving the anxiety that had paused while Cal and I were locked in, well, whatever that had been. Jaw tight, nose flared, I worked on breathing and settling my insides.
Exits? The door at the end of the hall. The windows. Wait, did they open?
Fuck. Fucking fuck. I shouldn’t let Cal get to me like that. I shouldn’t let anything get to me. I shook my head, angry at myself more than anything else.
Since day one, it had only gotten harder to avoid what my head kept whispering about Cal fucking Winters. And every daysinceday one, I’d stepped closer and closer to some unseen thing, an unknown.
Before moving here, I’d never have called myself a violent person. Blaming Cal for provoking me was easier than blaming myself. Violence wasn’t an answer, but maybe in some fucked-up way, I wanted a fight. I wanted something to punch and kick and beat as I hadn’t done the night I’d been attacked.
I wanted payback for the sixteen-year-old me.
Did Cal deserve to be the outlet for my vengeance? No. Was that enough to stop me?
CoachSullivanpursedhislips as I detailed my side of what happened. That stupid fight. “Calvin, wait outside a moment,” he said with a dismissive wave toward Principal Woodson’s door.
Nodding with a quickly muttered “Yes, sir,” I scrambled out of my chair, hating the tight quarters in the office with both the football and soccer coaches, the principal, and the boy’s counselor, Trent Wright, tossing different levels of disapproval my way.
As soon as the door latched, I spun around. “What’re you doing here?” I asked Sasha, who stood at the desk across from the school’s admin.
Ms. Hammond glared at us over her glasses. “I was just asking the same thing.”
Sasha faced me and rolled her eyes. I didn’t exactly remember when we started dating or if I’d even agreed to it. We’d hung out a few times at parties, and then all of a sudden, she was calling and texting me all the fucking time, and somewhere along the way, she’d called me herboyfriend, which I never corrected.
“I thought I might have to call Momma, but I’m okay now.” She said the lie easily enough. No doubt she’d come to snoop.
I flashed Ms. Hammond an apologetic smile—why an apology, I wasn’t sure—and ushered Sasha into the hallway. “Don’t cut class,” I whispered.
Sasha turned, pressing her front against mine, even before I had the door to the office closed. “My boyfriend got caught fightin’,” she whined, scratching her long nails over my chest. “You’re such a bad boy, Cal.”
What I was sure was supposed to be her sexy voice made me cringe. “Please, just go to class. We can talk later, okay?” Handling her had become a challenge lately and took more bandwidth than I could spare at the moment.
“Promise me.” She jumped to her tiptoes, and I automatically lowered to accept her kiss.
“Yeah, promise.”
Thankfully, she pivoted without another word, her skirt flaring along with her long hair, and sauntered off. Not until she rounded the corner did I exhale, letting the first peaceful second since the fight wash over me. No rustle of my classmates hurrying this way and that. No announcements in that scratchy PA system they used. Just me and a deceivingly quiet moment as I braced for whatever punishment they served and worried over the conversation later with my parents.
Only, I wasn’t alone. The very reason my ass was in this mess leaned against the wall opposite me with a snarl on his face.
I half turned, expecting Ms. Hammond to run out behind me, spouting off about the mistake. We couldn’t be trusted to be in close proximity and not get into it. Which was entirely accurate. Like junkyard dogs, we had to be separated before we had it out.
But no one came to stop this train wreck.
Fuck Jack Rutledge, man. Standing there, hands in his pocket, as if he wasn’t as fucked as me. God, I hated him. Never showedan ounce of concern about anything. In fact, the only thing that got him out of that indifferent mask was getting in my face.
All of this was his fault. Daddy was going to be fucking furious when he found out. Maybe they’d call Momma instead. She’d probably give two shits about me being in trouble. At least that way, I could handle the punishment without the guilt Daddy was sure to lay on me.
“Tsk,” I hissed and scooted down the hallway a bit, taking my own post as far from him as I could and still be near the door.
“You got something to say, say it to my face,” he whisper shouted.
“Your face is what got us in this mess,” I quietly shouted back.
His dark pink lip curled in a sneer. “You’re a fucking idiot.”
