Zeta’s been shooting daggers in my direction for weeks, which is how I notice the difference almost immediately. She’s gone from glaring at me any chance she gets to avoiding looking at me, at all costs. Both reactions hurt, but at least with the former, I still got to look at her beautiful face. Now, she hangs her head, avoids the common room like the plague, and flees the library with the first book her hand lands on before I’ve had time to even glance in her direction.
The second strange instance occurs a few days later when Lopez hands my guitar back to me. “Why?” I ask, suspicion underscoring my tone.
“Relax, dude.” He clamps a hand down on my shoulder. “I won’t renege on the deal. I’m just bored with it. I know how much you love it, man, so have at it. It’s yours. Knock yourself out.”
I’m suspicious as fuck of his motives, but I’ve missed my baby too much to challenge it, so I head to my corner and play for hours until my fingers bleed and my free time is up.
That night, for the first night in months, I sleep without interruption.
I’m in a fucking brilliant mood the next day after school, because my heart is lighter now I’ve got my guitar back; plus, I’ve decided to come clean to Zeta. I only have a few more months left in here, and I don’t want to waste it deliberately ignoring her when I crave her company so much. The threat posed by Lopez and Valeria has passed, and there’s no impediment to our friendship.
Except for the truth.
I expect she’ll be mad, but once she’s calmed down, she’ll realize I did it all, said it all, to keep her safe.
I’m planning on approaching her in the common room after our physical activity hour has ended. I’m whistling, with my hands shoved into my pockets, as I stroll across the yard toward the guys. The hot August sun is gloriously warm on my arms, and I’m feeling on top of the world. I’m nervous about Zeta’s reaction, but I trust in our bond, and I know we can reclaim what we had. That fact, and the fact I can almost taste freedom, has buoyed my spirits in a way I haven’t felt in ages.
Lopez, Torres, and Kelly are in a huddle, talking and laughing as I approach. Kelly reaches over, slapping Lopez on the back. “You the man, bruh.”
The second they see me, they stop talking, trading knowing glances at one another. “Sup?” I ask with a frown.
“Nothing, dude.” Lopez’s grin is smug in the extreme, and goose bumps sprout on my arms.
“What were you talking about?” Lopez purses his lips, but he’s struggling to contain his smile. Torres and Kelly exchange amused grins. “What the fuck is it?” I snap, my patience stretched thin.
Kelly coughs, shooting Lopez a fake apologetic smile. “Did you seriously think he’d just hand back your Fender for nothing?”
“What the hell are you saying?” A line of sweat coasts down my spine, and I just know I’m not going to like this.
“Zeta must really have a thing for you.” Kelly smirks. Bile swims up my throat, and my stomach twists into painful knots, as my mind goes somewhere I’d rather it didn’t.
“Or she has a thing for Lopez’s cock,” Torres says, sniggering.
All the blood leaches from my face. “What the fuck did you do?” I push my face into Lopez’s, and a vein throbs in my neck as fury trundles through my veins, pumping me full of testosterone.
“Dude, chill.” He holds up his palms. “It was all her idea, so if you want to point the finger of blame, you can point it at her.”
“Whatwas her idea?” I shout. I know I’m playing into his hands, but I’m beyond the point of caring. I just need to know.
“She said she’d blow me if I gave you back your guitar.”
I stagger back as if he’s just sucker-punched me. All the air flees my lungs, and pain smashes into my chest, making mincemeat of my heart. “She followed through?” I have no idea how my voice manages to sound so restrained. Not when I want to pound my fist into his conceited face.
“Hells yeah.” He rubs a hand over his crotch, and I’m sickened to see the bulge tenting his shorts. “Baby doll sucked me good too, and she swallows like a pro. I would’ve fucked her, but I don’t want to get the clap. Val would cut my cock off if I gave her an STD.”
I slam my fist into his face, enormously satisfied when blood spurts from his nose and he stumbles back, falling to the ground, caught completely unawares. Then I jump on him, pummeling his face and his body with blow after blow, easily swatting Torres and Kelly away as they attempt to drag me off him, fueled by an aggression I haven’t felt in years. Vaguely, I hear a whistle sounding in the background, but I’m lost to the rage, and I keep at it, hitting him over and over through the red haze coating my eyes.
Someone tackles me to the ground, and I lash out, arms and legs flailing as I shout obscenities at Lopez. “I’ll fucking kill you if you ever touch her again! I’ll gut you, you motherfucking asshole! I won’t stop until—”
“Ryder!” Powell slaps me hard on the cheek, and the stinging pain brings me back to the moment. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asks, shaking her head, a look of disappointment etched on her face. “You’re on the home stretch, boy! For your sake, I hope you haven’t inflicted any serious injury.” Watson hauls me up off the ground, roughly cuffing my hands behind my back.
My eyes lower to the ground, and I suck in a breath as my gaze skims over Lopez. He’s out cold although it’s hard to tell because both his eyes are swollen shut and blood covers most every inch of skin on his face. His shirt is stained with so much blood you can’t tell it’s white. Torres and Kelly look at me with a mix of fear and respect in their eyes. The assembled crowd starts to break up, and my head whips sideways, as if pulled by an invisible force.
My eyes lock onto Zeta’s, and I read every emotion on her naked face.
But it’s too late.
I’m sickened and disgusted at what she’s done, and the heated stare I level in her direction conveys all that and more.
