His eyes find mine at the same second and I want nothing more than to run into his arms and tell him I take it all back. God, I’m so weak. Why can’t I be like one of those Amazonian women who are tough as shit and don’t take crap from anyone, while looking hot as hell in the process? That’s what I need, not this stupid high school bullshit.
That settles it. I’m leaving and becoming Wonder Woman. Move over Gal Gadot, I’m stepping in.
I let out a breath and pull up my big girl panties. I can handle this. I just need to walk straight past him without becoming a slobbering mess and throwing myself at him. Just one step after another.
I concentrate with every ounce of my will power and eventually get myself through the front doors of Broken Hill High. “What’s up with you?” Brooke asks as I get to my locker. “You look constipated.”
“Shut up,” I laugh. “I was busy concentrating at not throwing myself at Nate.”
“Oh, and how did that go for you?”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “Did I hear a rumor that your tires got slashed yesterday?”
“Yes,” I groan. “That reminds me. You and me; we need to figure out who the hell went near my baby and had the nerve to hurt her, then we’re going to put the fucker down.”
A grin rips across Brooke’s face. “You’re on.” The bell rings and Brooke scrunches up her face. “Ok, you’re on at lunch.”
I tap my fingers together like Mr. Burns. “Excellent.”
Lunch comes and goes and by the end of the day, we’ve got nothing. I walk down to the student parking lot with Brooke and Elle. “We suck,” Brooke tells me. “Remind me to never become a cop. I can’t to this detectivering… detecting… detective… fuck. What’s the word?”
I think it over. “Detec…. Oh, I don’t know,” I laugh. “I know what you’re trying to say, though.”
Elle sighs. “It’s not like anyone is going to openly admit it. You guys aren’t Nate and Jess and believe me, they’re not good detectives either, they just have the fear factor to go with it.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But I kind of hoped they-”
“Hey,” I hear from behind us. I look over my shoulder to see Jess catching up with us. “You coming with me?”
I look back at Brooke. “Nah, I’ll go with Brooke,” I tell him. “We have some detectivering to do.”
“What?” he grunts.
“Nothing. See you later.”
He nods and heads towards his car, still as confused as ever.
Brooke and I talk with Elle for a while before we realize that most of the students have already gone and the parking lot is practically a ghost town. Elle gets going and we walk over to Brooke’s car.
We’re just about there when Ashley Samuels steps in my way. I rear back. I haven’t spoken to Ashley since the party where it came out that Nate and I were maybe a little something more than we were letting on. She was his freshly made ex-girlfriend at the time and had a few things to say to me, none of them very nice… at all. But it’s ok, I put the bitch in her place.
Since then, I’ve had absolutely nothing to do with her. I mean, apart from the glaring across the room. Or well, that’s what I thought until we discovered that she was responsible for setting the fire that nearly killed both me and Nate.
“Well, if it isn’t Nate’s sloppy seconds,” she grins, looking as proud as anything.
“What do you want?” I grunt, wanting nothing more than to beat the living shit out of this dirty swamp turd. I mean, she set the fucking boat shed on fire. Who the hell does shit like that? We nearly died. But it’s not like I can say anything about it. Nate wants revenge and if she has even the slightest inkling that we know, his plan won’t work nearly as well, whatever that plan may be. All I know is that we’ve known for ages and she’s still walking around thinking she got away with murder, which is way too long for me. If Nate doesn’t do something soon, I’ll be taking shit into my own hands.
Her grin widens as she props a hand on her skinny hip before jutting it out. “You’re pathetic,” she laughs. “But it’s nice to see you got what you deserved. He never wanted you anyway.”
I can’t help but laugh at her. “You don’t know a damn thing about me and Nate.”
“I know that he’s done with you,” she says. “Everyone sees you moping around, pining for the guy that’s done with you. It’s so obvious that it’s funny. You look so fucking pathetic. It will never get old.”
“What do you want?” I repeat a little more sternly.