Kohen’s father would never deign to look at the dirt on his shoe, especially my specific breed of dirt. On the other hand, my mother would mount anything that glanced her way, as long as she could score at the end of it.
I snap my fingers, pointing toward him. “Soyou’rewho she got HIV from? It all makes sense now. Your father will be happy to know you do have manners with all the sharing you’re doing.”
It’s getting harder to hold my stare when my stomach feels like it’s wringing itself out. I catch the muscle feathering in his perfectly sculpted jaw. How dare he be easy on the eyes. More than easy.He’s an Adonis—the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, with hazel eyes from his mom and a condescending stare he acquired from his Turkish father.
Not that I’d ever tell Kohen, but that pyromaniac’s been featured in my dreams one too many times.
Too bad I want to deck him.
Finish him off in more ways than one.
“It’s called multitasking. I’m disappointing my family and ruining yours at the same time.” Kohen’s voice pierces through the momentary satisfaction of scratching the itch before a cold sweat starts on my spine.
“With a brain like that, it’s a wonder why they held you back a year.” Nowthatwas the biggest disappointment. With how the tendons in his neck tick, I’m sure he knows it too. “I guess Daddy couldn’t buy your grades.”
At the end of the last school year, I thought I would finally get rid of the fucker, but he failed all his exams and showed up in my class the following semester. I could barely stand him when we were indifferent grades; sharing classes is a testament to my patience.
The only other thing Kohen and I have in common is that we’re still at St. Augustine High because of our families’ money and name. However, our families have different ideas about their reputation. His parents are building their fortune; mine are snorting, smoking, injecting, or fucking it.
Kohen lifts a tense shoulder and drops it, even though I can tell he’s not exactly pleased about being a nineteen-year-old who still needs to put on a uniform every morning and pretend to sing hymns in assembly.
The corners of his lips curl. “At least I saw my dad this month, Klepto.”
Well played, dickhead.
I sway in my steps when my stomach twists, threatening to push out the little bit of water I consumed today. I need to get rid of Kohen. Pronto.
I swallow the spit forming in my mouth and look straight ahead. “How’s Kiervan, by the way? Still on track to getting summa cum laude?”
Kohen’s annoyance vibrates off him in waves.
He opens his mouth, but I cut him off with a swift “don’t care” and a wave of my hand.
I pull out my earbuds from my pocket, press play and turn up the volume of my music to drown out the sound of the blood rushing through my ears.
He yanks a headphone out my ear, and I slap his arm out of pure reflex, then snatch the earbud back.
The distance closes between us, and I’m unsure if it’s because he moved closer or if I’m getting hit with another wave of vertigo.Either way, I stumble back, only to be pulled closer by the solid grip around my bicep.
“Why the fuck do you always have to be such an insufferable bitch?” His voice sounding like gravel, inches from my face.
Lethargy holds its sharp teeth in my muscles, weakening my attempt to shove him back. “Maybe because you’re an annoying piece of shit.”
They say the devil looks hideous up close. I wish I could say the same. Somewhere underneath my exhaustion, I’m hit with the disgusting thought that Kohen would look stunning underneath me.
He twists us around. The air punches out of my lungs as he pushes me against the wooden fence. Before I can make up from down, his fingers curl around the column of my throat, and his thumb presses against my pulse point, placing just enough pressure to keep me put. “I haven’t done shit to you, and all you do is—”
I scoff. “Do you even hear yourself?” My voice raises to a pitch too loud for my ears, and my stomach churns one pace faster than my heart rate. “You’re so goddamn delusional.”
My body struggles to escape. No amount of shoving, hitting, or kneeing is doing any damage other than winding me up and solidifying the hatred that’s boring down on me from his hazel eyes.
His body presses against me, forcing me to push as far back to the fence as I can, making me keenly aware of every firm ridge of his body that’s touching me—a toned thigh wedged between mine, chiseled abs brushing against my chest, strong fingers wrapped around my throat. If I hadn’t already been lightheaded a minute ago, I would be now.
Hazel eyes burn into me, taking apart every inch of my soul like he’s trying to figure out how I’m getting it all wrong.
“TypicalBlaze.” He spits my name out the same way my grandparents do. “Always playing the victim when this is all on you.”
“You’re the one who started all this shit—for fuck’s sake, you lit my hair on fire in second grade!” I screech. “You stole my bag. Pushed me into a pool. Took my clothes from my locker at the gym. Showed up at my house—in my room—in the middle of the night. And that’s not even the half of it.”
