by Leila James
Chapter 7
I take a long enough time gathering my things together at the end of Physics that everyone else has cleared the room. Good, because I swear I’m finished with human interaction today. I’ve hit my limit. Done.
Walking to my locker, I think about the day as a whole. Had it really been that bad? I’d met some new friends. Classes weren’t awful. But—
I come to a stop at my evil, difficult locker. I will conquer this damn thing eventually. Pulling out my phone, I open my camera roll to the photo I’d taken this morning of my schedule, which has my locker combo on it. Without looking, I grab at the dial to give it a spin.
Ew. What the hell? I yank my hand away.
My eyes dart from my phone to my hand, which is now covered in some sort of wet, slippery substance. I rub my fingers together frowning, then look back at the offending locker dial.
“Looks like lube.” I startle at the deep baritone, practically jumping out of my skin before I turn to see who’s behind me. A guy with dark hair and high cheekbones stands there eyeing the mess. “Hi. I’m Justin. We met earlier in the lunch line.” At my confused look, he continues, pointing at the locker next to mine. “And we’re locker buddies. This is me right here.” He holds out his hand to shake mine, then laughs. “Never mind.”
He’s cute. But this is a disgusting, mortifying way to meet.
I wiggle my fingers. “Um, yeah. I’m Scarlett.” I look down at the mess. So gross. I’d bet he’s totally right—not that I’ve ever actually touched any in my life to know for sure. It’s smeared all over my locker, not just the dial. Grumbling, I pull a small package of tissues out of my backpack and wipe my fingers off before starting on my locker.
Justin pulls what he needs out of his locker, stuffing a few books and notebooks into his backpack. He watches me clean for a moment before I look back at him.
“Have you ever seen this happen before? Is this like some weird hazing of the new girl on campus or something?”
“Nah, but I wouldn’t put it past someone, you know? Pretty easy to walk past and smear it on there.”
I wrinkle my nose and make a gagging face.
“The question is why? And who? If I had to guess, I’d say it’s gotta be a guy.” He shrugs, slamming his locker shut and spinning the dial to lock it.
“Why a guy?” My heart races, wondering if Xander is behind this.
“Seriously? I mean, lube?” He looks at me with laughing eyes.
“Point taken. Thanks.” I finally get into my locker, pull out all of my books, and jam them into my backpack.
“Made an enemy on day one, huh?”
I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, “Apparently.”
I never had any trouble at my other school. I was well-liked. Popular, even. Maybe I’ve made a mistake in coming here. But dammit, no one knows me, and I thought that would be perfect, especially since I swear I could feel my mother in this building. But here I am, right off the bat, the butt of someone’s nasty joke. Maybe I should drop out like Xander suggested. I feel the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. The fuck I will.
Xander can kiss my ass. He can do whatever he wants to me.
I’m not leaving.
“So, we should hang out sometime. What do you think?”
I startle when I realize I’ve been deep in thought and this guy’s probably been talking to me this whole time. “Um, yeah, maybe. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around, Justin.” I fling my bag over my shoulder and rush away.
Walking quickly, I turn the corner and as I pass an open doorway, a hand darts out and grasps my upper arm, knocking me off balance and pulling me inside the room. I stumble and almost fall. The door clicks shut and the unnerving sound of a lock being flipped sets my heart racing. Whoever pulled me in here has let go of my arm, but I can’t seem to get my bearings in the dark room. I make out what I think is a mirror on the wall and the floor is tiled. The hollow stillness in the air makes me think I’m in a bathroom.
I back up until I hit a wall behind me, my chest rising and falling in staccato rhythm. “What the hell is this? What do you want?” I’m annoyed that my voice comes out shaky, more alarmed than I’d intended. I blink furiously, trying to see better. A second later, steps come toward me. I hold my breath as my mind races.
I sense a body right in front of me. Bigger than me, definitely a guy. Fuck. He’d better be prepared to take a knee to the balls if he comes much closer. My mother always taught me to act first, ask questions later. My lungs fill with air, and I’m a split second from raising my knee when I recognize the cologne and catch the harsh glitter of a pair of dark eyes right in front of me. My heart gives a hard thump in my chest. It’s Xander. I can feel his warm breath on my face and my insides twist.
“You’d do well to stay away from him.”
If I wasn’t so freaked out that he’d yanked me in here in the dark, I’d have laughed at him. “Who, Justin? His locker is right next to mine.” His forearms rest on the wall on either side of my head. He inches closer, causing his chest to graze against my breasts. Every breath taken increases the connection between us. I feel the solid strength of him as the warmth of his body begins to seep into mine. The friction makes my nipples tighten against my will, and I silently pray he can’t feel it. Slowly, his lips drag along the skin of my jaw and up under my ear. “He’s not a good person. Trust me when I say that.”
I can’t figure out whether I should be screaming or moaning at this point. My thighs clench at the scarce contact, and I swallow hard past the lump in my throat. “How about you? Should I be scared of you, too? You’re the one who threatened me, told me I should drop out.”
His arms fall away from the wall next to me, his hands finding my waist. One hand glides slowly up my torso, over my ribs, his thumb brushing the side of my breast, then cups my neck. That same thumb feathers up and down my throat as he looks me in the eye, nose to nose. “You should definitely be fucking afraid of me.”
The hand at my waist slips inside my uniform jacket and plants itself at the base of my spine, pulling me against him. His hard-on is like a hot brand against my stomach. With each erratic breath, I feel every inch of him slide against me. I’m scared of what’s happening, but … I’m also very turned-on. This is the worst idea ever, especially under current circumstances. Why am I allowing this? Why am I not fighting him?
“Let me go, Xander.” My words are a whisper against his lips, but I know he hears me.
He closes the distance between our mouths, barely brushing his lips over mine before nipping my lower lip between his teeth. A tug deep in my core tells me I’m in dangerous territory. I gasp, and he releases my lip, but then I involuntarily push my pelvis against his, seeking more contact. Needing something to soothe the pulsing desire. White hot shame floods through me. “I have to go. Let me go.” My words are now a plea.
His husky voice is barely audible. “Remember what I told you.”
And then he’s gone.
I slide onto the stool at the kitchen island, across from where Aunt Liz is prepping chicken for dinner, still shell-shocked by what happened in the boys’ bathroom after school. I touch my fingertips to my lower lip, gently rubbing the spot that had been between Xander’s teeth, and a rush of arousal flows through me, hot and thick. Shifting on the stool, I realize he’s just made my panties wet without even being here. If he ever found out, he’d probably give me one of those smirking, taunting grins of his, complete with the killer dimple. Ugh.
I already know my body’s instinctual reaction to him is going to be trouble. Judging from the state of my underwear, my hormones don’t seem to care that he’s no good for me. He’s hotter than hell, and despite his attitude toward me today, I’m still as ridiculously attracted to him as I was the day we met. Hell, he’d pinned me to a wall and pressed his steel erection against my belly. It’d been like some sort of bizarre claiming beyond my understanding. It was like he’d said, Be careful with Justin, but don’t worry if I ru
b my dick up on you.
When I don’t immediately start talking, Aunt Liz tilts her head and asks, “Well? How was your first day? Was it everything you’d hoped for?”
I press my lips together. “I’m going to reserve judgment for a while.”
Her brows raise in interest, and if I’m not mistaken, a hint of concern.
“I just mean I’ve only attended half of my classes and cross-country hasn’t even started yet.” I shrug, knowing I won’t say a word about Xander. “You know how it is. I’m sure it’ll all be fine.”
“Did you meet anyone? New friends? Any cute boys?” She slides me a wink.
I bob my head a few times. “A couple of kids showed me around today and they promised they’d help me out tomorrow with my even-day classes. And we had lunch together.” And I felt this really hot guy’s hard-on, and I think I liked it, but it doesn’t matter because he’s obviously not who I thought he was when we first met. My face colors, and I hope Aunt Liz isn’t paying attention.
“Could you grate some cheese for our salads?” She passes a cutting board with a block of cheese and a grater on it over to me. “Which kids? Maybe I know the families?”
That’s Aunt Liz code for she’s going to check into whoever I’m hanging out with in an attempt to be the parent I need. It’s a shame she can’t help me where I really need it, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling her about Xander and his personality one-eighty.
I nod and pick up the cheese to start grating. “Max Sutton and Daphne Davis. They were really nice. I have English 12 and Precalculus with Max, and AP US Government and an art class with Daphne.”
“Hm. I don’t think I know Max. Daphne is Naomi and Ben’s daughter. She’s super smart—I think she has an academic scholarship.”
“Yeah, she’s quiet, but she seems pretty on top of things.” I clear my throat. “So, the cliques were everything you said they would be. I even heard some of the “Roses and Thorns” talk you told me about. It was like I was trapped in an alternate universe.” I laugh.
She smiles with her teeth clamped tightly together. “Yeah, I warned you about that.”
I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I’m just going to mind my own business.”
And I’m definitely not telling you that the hazing of the new girl has already begun. She’d be down to the school so fast it’s not funny if I were to tell her about my lubed-up locker or getting yanked into the boys’ bathroom.
“Good plan, sweetie. I knew you were a smart one. Sounds like you’re going to be just fine there.” She grins at me with a wink, but it’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself.
Whether or not I’ll be fine at Rosehaven Academy remains to be seen, but I refuse to let anyone run me off, that’s for damn sure.
After dinner, I make my way up to my room, deciding I just need to chill for a little while. Today was mentally exhausting. I flop down on my bed and open my Insta account. I scroll mindlessly through pretty photos for a little bit, but I don’t follow very many people, so I quickly lose interest.
When the thought to search for Xander pops into my head, I debate with myself for a whopping five seconds. What could it hurt to just take a peek? I tap his name into the search bar, and sure enough, he has an account. As I poke around, I see it’s mostly images of Xander, Beau, and Micah hanging out, and if I scroll back farther, photos from football games the previous year. I see numerous kids I was introduced to earlier today, although I can’t remember most of their names.
I stop on one particularly good pic of Xander in his football uniform. His back is to the camera, hands on his hips, and he’s looking off into the distance. Fucking hot is what it is.
I don’t know if it happens out of reflex or what, but my thumb taps the little heart icon. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t mean to do that. I tap it again to undo the action, squeezing my eyes shut.
After a minute of self-castigation, I set my phone down on my nightstand and hurry into the bathroom to wash my face. That’s enough screwing around for Scarlett today. How dumb was that?
I freeze, soap still covering my face, when I hear my phone vibrate on the nightstand. No. Noooo. Rinsing, I have an internal freak out before I rush back over. I perch on the edge of my bed and pick my phone up gingerly like it’s a snake that could dart out and bite at any second.
I don’t see anything on Xander’s account, which is where I’d stopped scrolling, but then I notice I have a message waiting. Oh, shit.
XanderG: Don’t think I didn’t see that.
What do I say? I totally just got caught scoping out his account. I’m such an idiot.
Me: I tapped it by accident.
XanderG: Mm-hmm. And what were you doing looking at my photo?
Me: We have mutual friends.
XanderG: It’s an old pic, Red. Wouldn’t have been in your feed. Nice try, though.
XanderG: It’s okay to admit you like what you see.
XanderG: And what you felt.
Me: Shut up.
It’s stupid and childish, but in the heat of the moment, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He’s right on all accounts. Too bad the asshole has to come in such enticing packaging.
XanderG: I can think of a few different ways you could make my mouth shut up. We’ll try those next time.
I’m too pissed at myself to respond. Ugh, Scarlett. Just had to go and give him ammunition, didn’t you?
Chapter 8
I must have fallen asleep not long after I banned myself from looking at any more Instagram. I still can’t believe I liked Xander’s photo. So freaking stupid.
The worst part is that I hardly know the guy, but he’d still robbed me of a restful sleep. I’d had multiple dreams about him, which is ridiculous.
At first, my sleeping mind had me sitting in a classroom, sensing that he was behind me—that’s it. But talk about driving my anxiety to new heights. Each time I’d woken up, I’d slipped right back into the same damn dream.
Around three in the morning, I’d finally gotten up to pee, only to be thrown into a different, infinitely more dangerous dream. Me, trapped between the wall and Xander’s chest, caged in by his arms. But instead of stopping when I tell him I have to go, he runs his hands under my shirt to touch my breasts, lifting me into his arms. And then my traitorous legs wrap willingly around his waist, and he dry humps me until I come.
And the most annoying, aggravating, embarrassing part is I’d woken up this morning with my hand down my panties, my body riding out the high of an orgasm.
It wasn’t a bad way to start the day, but I know dreaming of Xander like that is unhealthy for me. I can feel in my bones that he’s going to make my start at Rosehaven more difficult than it needs to be.
And what the fuck did that warning about Justin mean? Besides Max and Daphne, he’s one of the few people who’d spoken to me all day. And he seems perfectly nice. Screw Xander and his domineering attitude. I’ll talk to whomever I damn well please.
As I enter the school for day two, I find myself nervous for completely different reasons. This time, I kind of know where I’m going, and I even know that there are some friendly faces in the building. But man, I am not looking forward to Precalculus first thing. I’m not worried about math this early in the morning, but based on some comments made during English yesterday, I know that Xander’s in the same class with me and Max.
At my locker, I unload my books before slamming it shut, noting that the slight sheen of lube from yesterday’s misadventure remains on the surface. Still gross.
“Good morning, Cupcake.” Max greets me enthusiastically.
“Hey.” I plaster a smile on my tired face. “Where’s Daphne?”
He points in the opposite direction of our first class. “She’s the librarian’s aide during our first class today. She usually goes down there early on even days.”
“Gotcha.”
We enter the mostly empty classroom together, and Max sets his bag down on
the tabletop, claiming his space. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He takes off and not five seconds later, Xander strides into the classroom, looks around, and once his eyes land on me, comes right for me.
When he picks up Max’s bag and deposits it on the table across the aisle, I sputter. “Max was saving that spot so he could sit there.”
“He’ll get over it.” He lowers himself into the chair next to me and, to my horror, drapes his arm over the back of my seat.
A few minutes later, Max hurries back in, but stops short when he sees Xander in his seat. Rolling his eyes, he walks over to the chair where Xander dumped his bag. “Thanks a lot, asshole,” he says under his breath, then he aims an apologetic glance my way.
I shrug as Xander shoots him a shit-eating grin. “No problem, Maxman.”
Not long after class begins, I’m reminded where Xander has planted his arm when his thumb brushes back and forth just above my shoulder blade.
I jerk forward in my seat, sitting up straight. “What are you doing?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
The whole class went like that. I’d just relax, and he’d do something else. First, he dropped his pen and took his sweet time looking at my legs while he was bent over picking it up. Then it was more of the soft touches to my back. After that, he grew bolder and moved his hand up to the base of my neck under my hair.
Of course, I thought I’d been smart sitting in the corner in the very back row, but with no one behind us, there was also no one who could see what he was doing.
His knee nudges mine, and I pull my legs tightly together, shifting out of the way. And damn him, he just widens his stance.
Once the lesson is over—yes, Ms. Murphy dove right into teaching on our first day of class—we have twenty minutes to work through our homework. I prop my arm up, blocking Xander from my view. I’m diligently solving quadratic equations as a review from the previous year when I hear Xander beside me murmur, “All that long red hair. Oh, the things I’d do with that.”