She stands out in every way, from her incomplete uniform to her food program lunches. She’s inescapable. I hate that I find her impossible to ignore for the nobody she is.
Ignoring Blair has never been an option for me. Whatever it is about her, it demands my attention like a goddamn moth to flame.
Blair looks at me like we’re on the same level. Dead wrong, little bug. I want to crush her beneath my shoe for her insolence.
If I’m going to put her back in her place, make her understand that she’s never clawing her way out of her position on the lower rungs beneath me, then I need to know what her weaknesses are to press her buttons harder. The more I push her, the closer I get to total control over her.
“If you hear anything, let me know.” We pause beside my car. I unlock it, lean in, and swipe my pack of smokes. I tap one out, sliding the cigarette between my lips. Bishop declines when I offer him one. “Let’s get fucked up tonight.”
Bishop smirks. “You better have your hangover cure ready for me before school then.”
“Fuck that, I’m cutting tomorrow.” My mouth tips up at the corners in a cocky grin. “And my captain better not fault me for it.”
“Fair, fair.” Bishop laughs. The amusement falls away when he checks his phone and gets sucked in again with laser focus. What is up with that? “I’ll, uh…probably cut tomorrow, too.”
Bishop walks off to his ride and I get in my car, dangling my cigarette out the window.
Using my connections and access in the office to orchestrate Blair’s dismissal from the track team wasn’t enough. I’ll crush her, break her beyond repair. She signed a deal with the devil, and when I’m finished with her, she’ll be nothing but the shards of the girl who crossed me.
Blair’s fatal mistake was believing this game could end happily for her. She has my hatred and I’m going to bury her alive with it.
Twelve
Devlin
The lunch period has been one long
exercise in precise self control this year.
I lean back against the table on my elbows, turned to face the room. My legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankle. Blair’s across the room, seated at the table by the window.
Just like last year.
With the semester barely underway, I’ve had to hold myself back from snapping several times. Today I’m coming dangerously close to my limit. I need something to burn off this angry energy before it swallows me whole and unleashes my inner monster.
Maybe it’s the lingering hangover from yesterday.
Should’ve stayed home, but giving that sneaky bitch a respite isn’t on the agenda.
I need to punch something. Or smoke. Preferably both.
Aunt Lottie and Uncle Ed will see right through me if I show up to dinner tonight in this mood. They always know when something’s off with me.
I tip my head side to side to crack my neck, but it does nothing to dispel the itch crawling under my skin.
Bishop is here, at least. The rest of the people that flock to us like we’re gods drive me crazy.
Last year it was easier to fake interest in Lucas’ lunch period, but he was like a shining star drawing in admirers, golden and perfect. It was obvious to see why people loved the star quarterback. It’s a shame I’m not like my cousin—too flirtatious, too vulgar, too dirty, too this, too that, too much.
Now I have to work to hide the fact that I care about very few people in this world. If I don’t care about them, then no one can stop caring for me, either.
Our table at the center of the room is packed with people—all plastic and fake. Bailey sits close. I can tell she’s working up the courage to stake her claim on me by the slight twitches of her mouth. Maybe she’s talking herself into it, reasoning that even though I flirt with every girl in school, somehow it was special when I was charming to her.
It wasn’t special. Simply a well-crafted mask to keep people in their place.
My attention focuses on Blair once more. Her dark hair hangs down, forming a curtain around her bent head. Her shoulders are in a straight line, prideful even when she’s got the scorn of everyone in school, including me. She couldn’t put up more of a leave me alone vibe if she hung a banner in bold letters overhead.
Bishop’s holding court on my other side, his deep voice the only one that reaches me above the din of background chatter. Everyone’s eating out of the palm of his hand, their shrieks of laughter grating.