Instead of yelling through the window, I grabbed my stuff and opened the door. “Deciding if I want to make a run for it,” I said, slumping against the car.
Her hair was braided on both sides of her head. “Do you want to explain what the hell happened this weekend?” she asked.
My shoulders lifted and dropped in a sigh. “I’m guessing you’ve heard.”
“What I want to know is why the hell you didn’t text me and why I had to find out about it from Chelsea Walker.”
“Who?”
Mads shook her head. “That is beside the point. How the fuck did you end up at Brock Taylor’s on Saturday night in just a bra?”
“It was an accident.”
She lifted a brow. “Your shirt accidentally came off?”
It shouldn’t have been funny, not when the horror of what awaited me inside the school had yet to pass, but my lips twitched. “No,” I dragged out dramatically. “Like an actual accident. Brock almost hit me with his car, but to be fair, it was more or less my fault. I was drunk and fell onto the road.” I filled her in on all the details as fast as I could.
A grave expression dropped over her eyes. “There are pictures.”
I rubbed at the tension building at the back of my neck. “So I’ve been informed. Carter was all too happy to share this morning over a bowl of Frosted Flakes. How bad are they?”
“Asshole,” she muttered. “It could be worse. Your bra could have been off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t behind this whole thing. We need to talk at lunch.”
I nodded.
Her eyes flicked to the brick building and then back to me as she readjusted the laptop in her arms. “So have you decided yet?”
“About?”
A grin lit up her face. “Whether or not we are blowing off classes?”
Mads was a true friend, a partner in crime. I tapped my shoulder against hers and started walking toward the school. “Come on, let’s go before I change my mind.”
We separated after crossing through the front doors. I headed toward my locker and Mads to the west wing. She had first period auto mechanics. I didn’t know if it she was serious about the class or something she took as rebellion. Who the hell wanted to get greasy this early in the morning? No, thank you.
The murmuring and snickers were expected as I went down the hallway. So the entire school saw me in my bra. How was it any different than a bikini? It wasn’t. I turned the corner to my locker and stumbled. Dread dropped like an anchor in my stomach. I drew closer, seeing what all the fuss was about, all the hushed whispers, the secret giggles, and the snotty glances. It all made sense now.
S-L-U-T was written boldly across my locker in what looked like pink lipstick. But the horror didn’t end there. Pictures of me at Brock’s were plastered around the word like wallpaper. My eyes darted from photo to photo. Behind me, a few girls snickered as they passed by, but I barely heard them over the roaring in my head.
I had a damn good idea who was behind the stunt.
Ava.
This screamed jealous girlfriend, except she wasn’t anyone’s actual girlfriend, just a standby girl. Perhaps the same rules of possessiveness applied?
Honestly, I didn’t give a flying fuck.
Did Brock know about this? Was he in on it? Was it all part of their plan to embarrass me, run me out of the Academy?
Tears stung at the back of my eyes.
“Don’t give them the satisfaction.” Fynn Dupree stood behind me, scowling at my locker. His green eyes didn’t hold any of the gloating I expected to see. He looked… irritated.
I quickly smeared the wet spots away from my eyes. “What do you want?” I demanded, hardening my voice.
“Nothing. Just giving some unsolicited advice.” Fynn ripped one of the pics of my locker. “This isn’t a bad shot.”
I didn’t bother to look at the picture. They were all tasteless in my book. “I’m glad someone finds this funny.” Turning away from my locker, I strolled down the hall. Fynn followed. I glared at him from the corner of my eye. “What are you doing?”