“I’m not talking about spouting off at a party for a few dozen people or dumping a milkshake on your head.” His nostrils flare. “I know him, and I’m telling you, he’s up to something.”
“And why would I believe you?” I ask, stopping so abruptly that Zayden walks past me and has to turn back around. “You’ve been in cahoots with Oliver this entire time—making my life miserable right alongside him—and now what? I’m supposed to believe that suddenly you’ve had a change of heart and you’re on my side?”
“I’m not on your side. But I am trying to fucking warn you.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” I give him a look that says I don’t buy it. “Well, here’s a newsflash for ya, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“You know what? Fine,” he grinds out, a slight tic in his jaw. “You don’t want to listen to me, don’t fucking listen. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“Fuck.” Zayden pinches the bridge of his nose and blows out a heavy breath. “You’re really fucking frustrating, you know that?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I’m trying to do the right thing here and you’re making it really hard to do.”
“The right thing. Yeah, I bet. Zayden Michaels—Parkview’s resident badass and… closet nice guy? I don’t think so.”
“You know what….” Zayden steps toward me, and even though my instinct is to step back, I stand my ground. He lowers his face so that we’re eye level and my breath immediately catches in my throat. “You deserve whatever is coming your way,” he growls, his gaze dropping to my lips for a brief moment before he straightens his posture.
“And so do you,” I spit. “Based on the girls you have on rotation; I’d say an STD might be among them.”
I have no idea where that came from, but I can’t deny that it felt good to say. Even if it was childish.
“Careful,” he warns, a smile playing on his lips. “You don’t want people thinking that you’re jealous.”
“Jealous?” I draw back like it’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. “I am not jealous of your trashy girlfriend or any of the other floozies you surround yourself with.”
“Tiffany is not my girlfriend.”
“No?” I cock my head. “Perhaps you should tell her that, because I’m not sure she got the memo.”
“Are you about done?” He looks like he can’t decide if he should be laughing or lashing out.
“Are you?” I throw back at him.
He stands there for a few seconds, his glare locked firmly on my face before he finally breaks the standoff.
“Shows over,” he announces and it isn’t until then that I realize we’ve drawn quite the audience. I watch as several students avert their gaze and scatter in different directions. Zayden gives me one more hard look, shaking his head slowly as he slides past me without another word.
“SO, WHAT DID LOVER boy want?” Pierce slides up next to me right as I reach the entrance to the gymnasium where the pep rally is being held.
“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully, still not sure what his motives were for warning me about Oliver.
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” He throws me a sideways glance as he follows me to the front row of the bleachers—plopping down next to me seconds later.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t know.” I blow out a breath. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him. How’s your afternoon been?”
“Same old shit, different day.” He grimaces when Principal Harris taps the microphone in the center of the shiny gymnasium floor.
The room quiets.
“This shit is so stupid,” Pierce grumbles under his breath as the cheerleaders storm the room, waving their pom poms over their heads.
“Stop it,” I whisper, nudging him with my elbow.
I roll my eyes at least ten times as I watch the cheerleaders dance routine. Not because it’s bad, but because the cheerleader in the middle dances like she’s at a strip club rather than a high school. Tiffany may be the head cheerleader, but it’s clear she got that title based on popularity and not talent.