Chapter Eight
Last night'sdinner was the first time we had eaten as a family since before I...left. Our federal guests are no longer camped out in the kitchen 24/7. Camden and Lanning only swing by to bring Heather and Tristen up to speed or to form a new plan of attack.
Tristen brought pizza home. While we were eating, Heather attempted to get information about school, but I made Rhys swear that we wouldn’t involve them in my war at WH. It's bad enough that Nate inserted himself into the mess. Thinking of Heather taking legal actions or Tristen pulling strings to deal with the issue...no, thank you. I gave them the toned-down version of being called names, and tomorrow, by this time, they'll have heard about the locker incident, but until then, I don't need anyone else tangled up in that mess.
Walkingdown the hall toward my locker on day two of being back, I hold my breath—prepared for anything. I'm flanked again by Rhys and Denielle, with Wes in the rear. Instead of being stared at, though, most are averting their eyes as soon as they spot the four of us—everyone except the cheerleaders, who continue to openly glare.
When we arrive at my locker, I’m surprised to see that themessage is almost gone. You can still see the faint outline that something was there, but not what it said.
I place a change of clothes—just in case—in my locker, and my friends walk me to American History. I keep my head down, Miss Foy still ignores the new seating arrangement, and besides some whisper-coughed slut and whore insults, class runs smoothly. I don't get attacked by objects, and none of my books end up on the floor—or worse.
Entering the AP Chemistry lab, I find a new partner standing at my table. Approaching the station, I make eye contact with the boy I have certainly seen around but never exchanged a word with. Theo transferred in earlier this semester from somewhere in the south. But that's where my knowledge of him ends. He keeps to himself—not sure why, though. He has the whole bad-boy vibe going. He wears faded, distressed jeans with Frye boots—the purposefully aged kind—and a matching leather jacket. His tight, black, long-sleeve shirt clings to his bulging biceps and broad shoulders, showing off his athletic body. I briefly wonder what he does to be this...ripped. His ebony hair is tousled with a little gel in the perfect messy style, and his blue eyes and sharp features give him an edge that screams danger. Add to the whole package that he seems uber smart whenever he does speak up in class. You'd think the female student body would form a line for him. They don't, though. Everyone gives him a wide berth. My curiosity is piqued as to why he is here at my table, and I quickly scan the room, finding Ari at Theo's old table.
Deep breath. Here we go.
"Hi," I greet him as I place my bag under the table. I try not to stare, but he is freaking gorgeous, after all.
If I had any interest in anyone other than Rhys, of course.
We'll see what his strategy is: ignoring, attacking, or indifference.
He glances over while arranging some of the materials for today’s class. "Hey."
He speaks; that’s something.
We listen to our teacher explain the assignment, and once everyone is busy, I address the elephant in the room. "Why are you here? At this station, I mean."
There is a beat of silence while he keeps messing with the beaker, and I assume he has switched to ignoring, but then Theo replies in a low tone, "Arianna requested a transfer. Better not ask what her reasoning was."
I snort. "Oh, I can guess. So, you got the short straw?"
This time, my new partner faces me head-on, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Nah, I volunteered."
His smirk would melt the panties off any other girl, but I’m instantly suspicious. I scrunch my eyebrows. "Why?"
He shrugs a shoulder and turns back toward the experiment. "I have no issue with you. From what I heard, you've done nothing wrong." With a sidelong grin, he adds, "Maybe a bit kinky, with the adopted brother and all, but I'm not judging."
"Um..." My mouth hangs open. What do I reply to that?
"Don’t read anything into it. Take it as one hour of not being harassed. I’m in your French class, remember?"
He has a point. I don’t realize how tense my body had gone until it all melts away. We settle into a comfortable silence and finish the assignment just as the bell rings.
Wes ison babysitting duty and walks me to Algebra II. We haven’t talked much since I’ve been back. He is either with Den, or the four of us are all together.
I bump his elbow with mine. "So...how are you doing?"
Rhys’s best friend glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "Fine."
Neither Rhys nor Wes have been back to practice, and I heard from Rhys that Coach is starting to get frustrated with them. So far, he’s given them slack—probably because he also wants to avoid further injuries not caused by practice—but that won't last forever. Especially because Wes got scouted for a scholarship to his dream school, and it'll look bad not finishing his athletic activities, even though we're past football season.
We're approaching my classroom, and I mumble, "I never meant for you and Den to get pulled in like this." The guilt has been steadily building, but so far, I’ve been too scared to voice my thoughts, not wanting to hear what my friends would potentially have to say.
Wes pulls me into a side hug. "You and Rhys have been my best friends forever. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t stay by your side, Lil?"
This is one of the most serious conversations I’ve had with him in the ten years we’ve known each other, and I give him a tight smile.
"Plus, I’m finally on the bulldog’s good side. I never would’ve anticipated that happening in this lifetime." He grins down at me.