I sit back against the locker.
The only girl on my mind is Blair, my thoughts filled once more with the replay of what went down between us in the hall during lunch.
The heat I expected before coils low in my stomach. I breathe through it, balling my hands in my shorts.
Blair didn’t shove me off, like I suspected she might when I touched her. For a survivor, she has terrible self preservation skills. Knowing I can press her buttons with my best asset, I plan to use it to my advantage.
The chessboard shifts, reforming and adapting to something that I’ll take supreme pleasure with.
* * *
In the morning, I wait by Blair’s locker. I want to be here when she opens it to find the special package I stashed inside with the help of the janitor before school started. A few people stop to say hi and ask about my weekend plans. I can see the curious suspicion in their eyes, wondering why I’m over here instead of out in the parking lot with Bishop.
Blair pauses several feet away when she arrives. I didn’t warn her with a text this time. I won’t give her room to breathe between commands, applying pressure harder.
She closes the distance between us and ignores me as she twists the dial on her locker. I prop against the one beside hers, watching. Her hair is partially damp from a morning shower and I catch a whiff of that cheap imitation vanilla wafting off her.
Blair cuts a look at me before she opens her locker. “Why are you here?”
I shrug carelessly. “In school? The state mandates a minimum number of days for students to grad—”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Blair groans. “Why are you at my locker?”
“Why did you have to come to my school?” I counter, leaning over her.
She stands her ground, squinting up at me. Stubborn little thing. Once she opens that locker, she’ll know better.
I make a show of checking the time on an invisible watch. “Better hurry. You’ll be late for homeroom.”
“Doesn’t that mean you should move your ass along, too?”
“I have office aid for homeroom this morning. Taking attendance.”
When she rolls her eyes, I grin.
The locker swings open and I relish the exact moment Blair pauses.
“What the hell,” she mutters, reaching for the gift bag. She freezes when she peeks inside. “What. The. Hell.”
She swings a confused gaze to me. I give her a challenging smirk in response.
“What is this?” Blair gestures sharply at the locker.
I peer into the bag and withhold a sadistic grin at the brand new Silver Lake High School uniform, complete with a blazer and new shoes.
On top sits an extra special item: a leather collar.
>
It has a silver nameplate that reads Sticky Fingers. My note peeks out from under the collar, where I wrote directions to wear everything in the bag to school or else there will be dire consequences—like no payment.
Below that I wrote $750.
“I think you’ll find all the answers you need inside this bag.” I wave a hand lazily and prop my shoulder against the edge of the locker. “Looks like you won’t stand out for having an incomplete uniform anymore. How generous.”
Blair sneers and jabs a finger at the collar. “And that? Are you fucking kidding me?”
My mouth stretches wider as amusement blooms in my chest. “Not in the slightest. Are you saying you’d rather take the other option from our agreement?”