Who knows who Blaze stole either of the pens from, but out of the both of us, she’s the one who can’t afford to luck out with her schooling. If she doesn’t pass and continues getting caught for everything, then she has a one-way ticket to jail now that she is eighteen and considered a threat to public safety. Blaze is an idiot if she’s considering prison as a valid life option.
Her eyes find mine, and she mouths, “Get fucked,” before looking forward with her shoulders tensed. A minute later, she dismantles the pen, tucking the spring and case into her bag and leaving the ink chamber on the desk to doodle in her book.
Blaze makes a point of sitting behind me in the next class, and it takes every fiber in my being to ignore the cut-up eraser she throws at my head. My jaw ticks when a marker cap hits my ear. I'm woefully disappointed if this is her pathetic attempt to get back at me. I expected more.
When the third object collides with me, I whisk around to face her. “For someone who wants me to fuck off, you’re sure trying to get my attention.”
She’s so fucking infuriating all the goddamn time.
Her wild, sterling-blue eyes flare, and my lungs catch, just like every other time I see them. The world can have Prometheus; I have Blaze, the girl with the fiery attitude—completely and utterly unhinged. The girl with hair and eyes the color of flames: blue,copper, orange, red. Blazeisfire.
She leans forward in her seat. I’m sickeningly aware that closing the distance wouldn’t take much. It wouldn’t even take a full second. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. Your attention is the last thing I want,” Blaze whispers, and all I seem to notice is the way her chapped lips move.
I’m hit with a bolt of rage at the memory of what she looked like inthephoto. That motherfucking photo. I can still picture what she looked like sitting on Duke’s lap with his tongue down her fucking throat.
My shoulders stiffen, and my hand shoots out under the table to grab her knee as I shoot her a glare. Her skin is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and the contact hardly puts a lid on my urge to pull her across the desk. But then I remember one crucial fact.
She’s never fucking chosen me.
“You have a funny way of showing your disinterest, Thief.”
My eyes cast to where our skin is touching, and tension instantly starts beneath my pants. Blaze has no idea how easy it would be for me to push my hand up her leg and slip my fingers into the tight cunt she’s been keeping from me. It’s a colossal show of self-restraint that I’m not driving her thighs apart just to finally know what it feels like to have them open for me.
Her lips curl into a sneer. “Disinterest? You came tomyschool. I want you gone.”
This is precisely what I’m talking about. We’re a little over halfway through the school year, and she thinks I’m so awful she’d risk getting thrown in solitary every day under some misguided pretense that she might be able to get rid of me. Then, once she’s out, she fucks pieces of shit like Duke and who knows how many others.For what? More importantly,whileonwhat?
I pissed around after school for the past four years to walk her home because half the time she’s plastered, coming down, hungover, or simply unobservant. Not once has she thanked me or shown a modicum of appreciation.
The dumbest thing I’ve ever done was to assume she wouldn’t just fuck any guy who waves a bag in her face. I don’t care if that’s her mom’s MO or any other woman’s game; that shouldn’t behergame—not after everything I’ve done for the ungrateful shit.
“Miss Whitlock,” the teacher snaps.
Blaze glares at me one last time before averting her sharp eyes to the English teacher. “What?”
Mrs. Nauly cocks a brow and crosses her arms. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”
Everybody turns our way, and Blaze’s cheeks flush the same shade as her hair—fuck, if she doesn’t look hot like this. If I had known being in the same class as her would get her this wound up, I’d have done it years ago.
When Elijah turns to look at her too, I quickly do the math on whether it would be worth spending a night in solitary if I got the chance to crack his skull. I bet he’s fucked her as well.
Fuck.
I ball my hands into fists. Blaze prefers everyone but me.
“Yeah, there is, actually.” Blaze sits straighter up in her chair and crosses her arms, mimicking Mrs. Nauly.
She truly does astound me. She’s either so delusional and has no idea how much verbal diarrhea comes out of her mouth, or she genuinely aspires to do everything possible to get her ass kicked.
I sigh and settle back in my chair. This is gonna be good.
“Go on,” the teacher says.
“Kohen was feeling me up and trying to look up my skirt.”
I scoff. She wears it so short there’s no lookingupwhen I can just lookatit. Her lack of hand-eye coordination has benefited me too many times to count. The girl has never heard the concept of “bending at the knees,” and every male in this school is too aware of that fact.
The teacher sighs. “Miss Whitlock, I doubt Mr. Osman desires to do such a thing. Stop crying wolf.” She gives Blaze a condescending look people seem to reserve especially for her. The one that sayswhy should I believe you?
