“I’ll take you after school.”
“You don’t—” I break off when a fresh glare comes my way, waiting until the bell goes before resuming. “You don’t have to take me anywhere. The order is ready. All I need is a credit card or a direct transfer.”
I gather my stuff and head out of class, careful to keep my distance in case someone’s watching.
“But this is a physical store.” Caylon stops walking abruptly, forcing me to the side of the corridor, tucking my phone back into my pocket.
The brief sensation of his hand that close to my body is alarming but I swallow hard, trying not to show it. “You don’t have to—”
“That’s the only way I’m paying for it.”
“Fine.” I face forward and head for my car. When he follows, I turn with my hand held up as a stop sign. “What’re you doing?”
“Coming with you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and give an exaggerated sigh. “I meant fine, you’re off the hook for paying for it. Not fine, I want to spend a couple of hours sorting out something when I can get the same service by pushing the button and sending the order through.”
“Like you’ve got anything better to do.”
“What would you know?”
He switches his books to one hand, running the other through his hair. It’s now longer than mine and I reach up to tug at my short length, pulling the hairs as though that will restore everything I cut away.
“I know you hung around Zach twenty-four seven when you were going out. That doesn’t exactly speak to an active social life. Who’re you going to hang around with now? Dee?”
I spin on my heel before my face can respond to his jibe, tossing my belongings in the back seat before opening the driver’s side door.
Caylon reaches over and slams it shut. “You wanted me to pay, so I’m paying. We can take my car.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m certainly not going somewhere alone with you in your car.”
He shrugs as though my words mean nothing. “I’ll pay for someone to tidy up your hair as well.”
“Why? So, one of your followers can put a new wad of gum in it? No, thanks.”
He goes very still. “You cut all your hair off because of some gum?”
“No, I did it because it’s too hot and summer’s coming.”
I elbow him aside and pull open the door again, but he catches my hand, spinning me close.
“Let me go.” The thought someone might see and report back to Wilbur alarms me more than the feel of his muscled body pressing against mine. “Just leave me alone.”
“Nice haircut,” a girl calls out from one carpark over. “Are you going to make your own clothes, too?”
“Fuck off,” Caylon says to her in such a stony voice that her eyes widen, and she fumbles for the door handle. He turns back to me, running his fingers through my shortened fringe. “Even like this, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
I push at his chest, grunting when he doesn’t move, even when I’m at full strength. “And you’re such a fucking arsehole.”
“Could you imagine our children? They’ll be so attractive they’ll make grown men cry.”
“Quit it.” My phone is buzzing. Wilbur wanting another photo.
I wish I were ugly. Then nobody would bother me.
Nothing that a razor wouldn’t fix if I had the courage.
I don’t.
