Geography is going to be a bore, and I find myself zoning out more than I should. I tried to sit next to girls, but the seat next to me was empty, and a guy sits there. He isn’t listening any more than I am, but he’s not like Tyler. He’s not making jokes, but he does flirt with a few of the girls.
Not that I’m paying him much attention, but he has dark red hair and dark eyes. He fills out his shirt like he pumps iron. He could easily be mistaken for a lot older than a high schooler. Everything about him screamsI don’t care.Only it's not in a prankish, childish way. More in anI’ve dealt with shit, don’t mess with mekind of way.
That is something I understand wholeheartedly, which makes me all the more furious with myself that I went the ignoring route. Who cares if I get suspended or expelled from this school? There are others, and since I forged paperwork once, I can do it again. It would be inconvenient to have to start over again, and it might mean that I should reconsider the idea of just getting my GED, but scholarships have to be more likely if I get my degree the normal way, right?
My fingers rub my temples. If I’m not careful, I’m going to give myself a migraine, and I don’t have any of my migraine medicine with me.
“Sorry, Lisa,” the guy murmurs a little louder than he’s been talking. It’s the first time I can make out his words clearly.
The girl pouts. “But I had such a fun time last night.”
“It wasn’t a date,” he growls.
“No, but I thought—”
“You trying to feel me up the entire time and getting shut down wasn’t enough for you to realize I’m not into you that way?”
“But, Shane—”
“Sorry.” He leans back in his seat, sprawling out his long legs.
His tone suggestsNot sorry.
“I just thought that since you and Rachel are done—”
“I don’t need a new girl to hop on my dick the next day,” he snarls.
“But it’s been more than a few days. It’s been almost two weeks!”
“So? I’ll move on when I want to move on and with who I want to move onto.”
Lisa huffs and crosses her arms. Then she re-crosses them to push up her boobs, but Shane isn’t looking her way. He’s staring straight ahead.
The teacher isn’t paying them any attention. For the most part, they’re being fairly quiet despite the heated exchange.
I glance over at Shane. He shoves his shirt sleeves up, and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo.
A rose with thorns.
Now it’s a beautiful tattoo, honestly, but it’s one I’ve seen before. Several men associated with my father had that same style tattoo. I asked one about it after I realized so many of them had the same tattoo.
“It means we spent our eighteenth birthday in jail.”
How old is this guy? He could be over eighteen easily, but just because he has a rose and thorn tattoo doesn’t mean he did time.
He drums his fingers on the table, playing a staccato beat, and that’s when I see another tattoo, that of four dots to make a square with a dot inside. It’s painted in the webbing between his index finger and thumb.
There’s no mistaking that tattoo for anything but a prison one. The square’s dots represent the four walls of the prison, and the dot inside is the prisoner.
No wonder he has so much swag, even if he's just sitting there.
“What are you looking at?” he grumbles.
Crap. I got caught staring.
I shift my gaze to his brown eyes and gulp. His eyes are so cold, so fierce. I've seen that look before, and I know what it means.
He is capable of violence.