She narrows her brown eyes at me. “You need to leave our captain alone. I know you fought with her—”
“Captain? Do you seriously call her that?” I ask with a loud laugh.
I swear these girls worship at Juliette's altar and it's actually very disturbing. Like right now, Stacey looks like she's about to pop a blood vessel if I say one wrong word about Juliette.
“Stay away from her!” She ignores my comments and tries to threaten me. “She’s min—my friend!”
She walks closer to me getting in my face. I'm startled a little at how angry she is, I haven't even thrown my worst insults at her yet.
Her words light a bulb in my mind. There's a crease in her eyebrow. Her fists are clenched at her sides and her bottom lip is quivering slightly. I know that look. She's being territorial right now. It's not that she's fighting for her captain, rather, for the girl she likes.
It's been so obvious. How did I not see it? she follows her around like a puppy. Just the other day, I saw her buy Juliette a bouquet of daises. She clearly doesn't like her that much, otherwise she would know that Juliette prefers gardenias.
My eyes narrow at her protectiveness, I'm suddenly feeling very angry and I don't know why. I mean, she is pretty, with her dark, curly, brown hair and her chocolate brown eyes. She's rich too. Is that Juliette's type?
Wait, no. What am I doing?
Juliette has a boyfriend, not to mention she's homophobic. As if she would ever like this girl—
Oh for Pete's sake! Regardless, I don't care!
“Aww, you jealous? You want your captain all to yourself?” I sneer the words out, suddenly feeling very malicious towards the girl in front of me. Her eyes widen at my words.
I expect her to scream at me or deny the allegations, considering she is probably internally homophobic herself. What I don't expect is her punching me in the mouth.
My body falls back and blood begins pouring out of my mouth. I'm disoriented for a moment and absolutely shocked. Only for a moment though, because as soon as I begin seeing clearly again, I lunge for her.
It's so on.
I use my fist and punch her right back in the face, but I aim for her eye, ignoring her cries. I work rapidly and twist her body so that her arm is behind her back. I yank her arm further and she cries out in pain.
“Do that again and I'll fucking break it, understood?” I spit out the words harshly, squeezing her arm to make my point.
I could break her arm right here. I've always been decent at fighting, mostly because I taught myself at a young age to protect myself. Also, because I routinely spar with Aryan at his boxing gym. I could easily rip her apart right now. My brain is telling me to, but I can't.
My arm loosens just enough so it's not hurting her, but not letting her go at the same time.
See, the world works in the favour of the elite, it always has. If I break her arm right now, she'll run to the principal and I'll get expelled, or worse she'll press charges against me for assault. It won't matter that she started it first, what matters is who has the money to get out of situations like this and I don't.
“Understood,” she cries out and I keep her hand there for a few moments longer, calming my own breathing so I don't kill her.
I push her body away from mine and stalk out of the room because if I stay a moment longer, I'll change my mind and throttle her.
I practically sprint to the bathroom and thankfully, no one is there. I inspect the damage done in the mirror and damn, it's bad.
My bottom lip is swollen, just like it was a few days ago because of Juliette, but not as bad. I wonder if she sent Stacey to do this, just like she sent her to slushy me? Just when I was about to start respecting her, she pulls this?
The door creaks open and I don't flinch, I continue staring at the mirror until I hear a familiar voice speak.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Her tone is light and airy; she isn't trying to start a fight with me. In fact, she might actually be joking with me.
Why does Juliette always manage to walk in on me at the worst times? I just ignore her and dab tissue on my lip, trying to contain the bleeding as I avoid her gaze.
All of a sudden, I hear her footsteps walking toward me.
“You're bleeding,” she says softly, almost like a whisper. She's staring at me in the mirror because I still have my back to her.
I expected her to look pleased or cocky, but she looks… concerned? Her eyebrows are furrowed and her mouth slightly ajar as she stares at my face.
