So weird.
But then again, I guess he’s been following me. Does he mean just now, or… has he been making a habit of it?
I gulp nervously at the idea, even though I also feel a bit flattered. What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong withhim?
I hide all the strange emotions behind anger. He has no right to follow me. He has no right to spank me, or pull my hair, or call me a brat, or any of the other things he’s said and done in the past ten minutes!
I’ve all but forgotten the words I hurled at him to hurt him when he suddenly says, “I choose my battles, Lia. Maybe you should too.”
“Huh?”
“And you’re right, Iamdirt poor. And an orphan. But I dohave some savings.”
“Oh.” I swallow with difficulty, suddenly aware of what that means. “You didn’t… you didn’t use them all on me, did you?”
He gives me a half-shrug, half-nod.
“You did? But why?” I gasp.
Another half-shrug. “How else was I gonna get you out of there?”
“Why does it matter to you whether or not I was going to get out of there? Those are your savings! Why would you waste them on me?”
“I didn’t waste them,” he answers shortly, just as we arrive in front of Sophie’s house. “Can I trust you on your own, Lia? Are you going to be a good girl and behave?”
I’m back to being furious, my mouth opening and closing as I try to show him just what I think of him. The gall of treating me like a baby! He’s not my dad!
“None of your business,” I snap. “Now let me go!”
He smirks. “You really are a little brat, aren’t you? Too bad your dad doesn’t spank you. Let me know if he ever changes his mind about that. I’ll come over and watch.”
My entire body is shaking with rage. Without even thinking, I lift my hands and shove his chest. At once, he grabs my wrists and squeezes them so hard I wonder if he’ll break them.
All trace of humor is gone as he hisses, “Never. Do. That. Again.”
I huff out a sigh of relief when he at last releases me. But I’m not ready to let him have the last word.
“I hate you,” I blurt out, my voice strangled with emotion. “I hate you so much, Logan Colt! And I will hate you for the rest of my life!”
I just have time to take in the hurt look in his eyes before I whip around and stalk up to Sophie’s door.
3
Logan
Tenth grade
“Loser. You are such a loser.”
I blink up at the girl who’s just insulted me. There’s no such thing as a homecoming queen in poor, rundown Oakley, but if there were, Lia would pretty much fit the bill.
Not that she really looks the part of the all-American princess with her red curls and freckles. But she more than makes up for it with the snobby air that’s become a permanent fixture on her face.
She never quite lost her slight accent, the weird mix of Italian and Irish that I go to sleep at night dreaming of. I find it cute even when she’s using it to hurl harsh insults at me. Something she’s definitely made a habit of doing over the years.
But usually, she’s more discreet about it. I guess she’s scared of Damien, like the rest of the school is, but she knows she can say just about anything to me and get away with it. As long as Damien isn’t in hearing range.
