He groans.“Fuck off.”He flips me off, but there’s no anger in it.
Jace shifts in his chair, foot still hooked on the edge of the coffee table, with one brow cocked in a way that signals he’s about to stir some shit.
“So,” he starts, tapping ash into the can, “what’s the deal with Cherry Girl?”
My eyes snap to his.“Don’t call her that.”
“Touchy.”He grins, wide and knowing.
“She’s not a joke.”I lean forward, elbows on my knees.
“Didn’t say she was,” he says, but his smirk softens a little.“I just meant… she’s got you spun.I’ve seen you with girls, man.You’re in and out before they know what hit ‘em.But her?You’re walking around like your soul left with her panties.”
“Fuck off,” I snort, even though he’s not wrong.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees.“You’re the one who made the bet, remember?”
“Yeah.I fucking remember.”My jaw is clenched, regret tasting like blood in the back of my throat.
Jace shifts, watching me too close.Reading shit I’m not ready to admit.
“You tapped that already, didn’t you?”
“No.”
His brow rises.“Bullshit.”
“I said no.”My voice is sharper this time.I shift in my seat, stare past his shoulder at the busted blinds and peeling wallpaper, refusing to give him more.My chest feels too tight; lungs are stuck somewhere behind all the things I can’t say.
His eyes drop to the bag at my feet.“What’s with the schoolboy gear?You headed somewhere?”
“Yeah, Sam’s.We have an assessment to finish.”
Jace lets out a sharp bark of a laugh.“Assessment.Fucking hell.Is that what we’re calling it now?You showing up all eager with your little backpack, hoping she’ll reward you with extra credit?Maybe a gold star for effort—right before she wraps her pretty mouth around your cock?”
My jaw snaps shut.“I told you.I haven’t fucked her.”
He falls silent, eyes fixed on mine, as if he’s peeling back skin and reading what’s bleeding underneath.
I don’t give him the chance to say whatever smartass line he’s loading behind that smug smirk.
I grab the strap of my bag, slide it over my shoulder, and head toward the broken door.
“See ya later, asshole,” I mutter just before walking out.
Jace calls after me.“Try not to bust a nut all over her textbook, Romeo!”
I slide the strap over my shoulder and walk down the long driveway that curves past the main house—white pillars, manicured hedges, a fountain that’s more for show than function.It’s the kind of place that tries too hard to hide anything messy.That money can mask rot.The house you look at and think picture perfect—if you don’t know the shit buried underneath.
I spot her.
Jace’s aunt, elbows deep in her rose garden, sunhat perched on her perfect hair as if she just stepped out of a fucking magazine.She straightens as I pass, hands covered in soil, but her eyes are hard.That stare, which strips you bare in one sweep, finds you lacking.
Her lips purse.Disapproval drips from every wrinkle on her face.
She looks at me the same way she looks at Jace—breathing reminders of everything she’s tried to keep hidden behind ironed curtains and whitewashed walls.
I nod once, more out of habit than anything else, and keep walking.She doesn’t need to say a thing.Her silence screams loud enough.I’m a piece of shit.
