CHAPTERTHREE
Stella
The second I step from the bathroom, I come face to face with Emmie once again.
“Just let me in,” she snaps, looking between the two guys guarding the door with her hands on her hips and a fierce expression on her face.
“No,” one of the guys damn near growls, taking a step toward her.
But at no point does she cower down.
“Come on, Em. These assholes aren’t worth it.”
“You got that right,” she scoffs, looking at the guy who moved closer to her up and down as if he’s nothing more than a piece of shit on her shoe.
I knew there was a reason I liked her.
Backing away from him, she acquiesces and walks beside me—although backwards, as she continues to hold his eyes.
“Any idea where other bathrooms are?” I ask once we’re out of earshot, and she finally spins, walking beside me as if the two goons aren’t burning holes in our backs.
“No fucking idea. But it’s got to be easier than fighting them idiots.”
“You noticed that too, huh?”
I know the second he appears from the bathroom. A shiver of awareness races down my spine. But I refuse to allow him to know that his stare alone affects me, and I continue around the corner without so much as glancing over my shoulder.
Pulling the map from my pocket, I run my eyes over it.
“Next to the girls’ locker rooms.”
“I know where they are,” Emmie announces, picking up speed.
I don’t bother telling her that I don’t actually need the bathroom. I just trail along behind her, my body moving on autopilot while my head is still back with him.
What the hell is his issue?
We had one night. One hot night, sure. But what is he expecting me to do?
Is the blonde from the restaurant his girlfriend and he’s worried I’m about to announce his misdemeanour in the graveyard to her?
Is he that ashamed of our time together?
I remember vividly how he reacted to me that night. He might have regrets, but he wanted that as much as I did.
I figure he’s got some other reason that only he’s aware of. Or, and probably more likely, he’s just a cunt.
Following Emmie into the bathroom, I move toward the sinks, or more specifically the mirrors, while she disappears toward an open stall.
Just like the rest of Knight’s Ridge, the bathrooms are nothing like I’ve experienced in a school before. They look like something you might find in a hotel, not a place for kids. Okay, insanely wealthy and stuck-up kids, but still.
I’ve only taken two steps forward when someone’s eyes catch mine in the mirror.
“Give me strength,” I mutter to myself, but not hiding the words as they fall from my lips.
“Who are you?” the blonde who was trying to climb him like a tree not so long ago demands, spinning on her heels and placing her hands on her hips as she narrows her eyes at me.
“Clearly not your new best friend,” I quip, ignoring her and lowering my purse to the counter so I can dig out my lip gloss.