Disgusting.
The two of them together equaled a really bad trip.
“Take a seat, Mr. Patterson. You too, Miss Whitmore. You’re both late.” The look Mr. Schultz gave them said he’d rather be anywhere but here as well.
Carter and Ava slid into the two empty seats at the table to our right. “Did you walk here or get Daddy’s driver to drop you off?” Micah's eyes seemed to dance as he posed the question. He enjoyed tormenting Carter. He also enjoyed being the center of attention. Carter wanted to command a room with his presence when he walked in, but it was Micah who managed to do so effortlessly.
Snickers sounded through the room.
The incident from last night had already spread like a disease through school.
Mr. Schultz folded his hand over the paper with our names on it, pointing his gaze toward my table. “Mr. Bradshaw, you know the rules. This isn’t a social hour. No talking or I’ll move you to a different seat.”
“I’d be happy to switch,” Carter volunteered.
Grayson scowled.
Everyone in the room was aware of the sudden ice coating the air. Even Mr. Schultz felt it. My two personal guards stiffened beside me, all teasing gone. They became cold, with a vow of violence swimming in their eyes.
“That wouldn’t be wise, Mr. Schultz,” Micah warned, leaning back in his chair.
Silence fell.
Mr. Schultz pushed up his glasses as he shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the implication in Micah’s warning.
Halfway into our detention, which was basically a long-ass study hall, a balled-up piece of paper sailed onto our table, landing on my notebook. Grayson’s scowl deepened as he snatched up the wadded note before I could. Unraveling the ball, his eyes scanned the scribble, and the set of his jaw hardened.
Rolling my eyes, I took a glance at Mr. Schultz, and plucked the note out of Grayson’s hands. Micah leaned over, reading the message over my shoulder.
They can’t always protect you. I’ll be waiting.
“This guy just doesn’t know when to call it quits. I knew he was hard-headed, but shit…” Grayson snapped the pencil between his fingers in half.
Shadows crossed Micah’s normally twinkling eyes. “Should we take him behind the school?” he whispered, deadly serious.
My gaze darted over to Carter and Ava’s table. The two of them kept their heads forward, but I caught the hint of a smirk on their lips. They enjoyed this. “I don’t think beating the shit out of him will stop him. It didn’t work before.”
“No,” Micah admitted. “But it will feel good.”
Grayson cracked his knuckles. “I agree.”
An hour later I dragged the two of them out of the school by the hoods of their sweatshirts before either of them made good on their claim to beat the ever-loving snot out of Carter. Again. They’d already broken his ribs. Shattered his car. Threatened him. What next? I didn’t want to find out today, not when Ainsley was waiting for me.
* * *
Ainsley sat on the couch nursing what looked like one hell of a hangover when I walked into Brock’s house. Her eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded as she sipped on a bottle of grape Gatorade. But at least she was awake.
Brock sat in one of the big, cushiony chairs, Grayson taking the other. I went to Ainsley, joining her on the couch. Strands of her rainbow hair fell out of the messy bun atop her head as I hugged her. “God, Ains. I was so worried. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Her mossy green eyes were clearer than they had been last night and filled me with relief. “Fuck, Josie. I don’t know what the hell happened,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
Micah perched on the end of the couch arm, closest to me. “You were flying higher than a kite.”
I shot him a dry look. “Are you sure you’re okay?” That was the most important detail to me. All the other questions could wait until I was satisfied my best friend was fine.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out inside, because I am. I’ve never blacked out before. Ever. Gotten so drunk I pissed the bed? For sure.”
“Been there,” Micah muttered, a grin of approval tugging at his lips.