Thea might be fun to play with, but everyone is a liar in some way or another. Apples don’t fall far from trees.
Eight
Connor
Third period English is lit this morning.
Devlin is out for blood with his little charity case obsession. She crawled up to him like a lost dog, surprising me by handing over a paper and acknowledging his existence when she usually ignores all of us like the uppity ice queen she is. A hot ice queen.
But I honor dibs, so she’s all Devlin’s.
I had snatched up the paper she presented to him and made up a love note instead of the essay assignment with his name typed at the top. He got her to do his homework somehow, but he also wasn’t taking it, declaring that he wasn’t accepting proclamations of love and calling what she wrote sweet.
Now, I don’t know what sort of kinky game he’s playing with her, but whatever it is, it’s brought a light to his eyes I haven’t seen since his cousin Lucas left for college. Davis brought his wrath on herself by picking Trent’s pockets right in front of us.
The laughter of our crew fills the room as other students filter in for class. Sean leans on Trent, howling with amused tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. Two of our friends from the dance team, Nina and Bailey, coo cruelly at Blair Davis while Devlin and I tag team her.
Fire flashes in her gaze. Yeah, she’s a total fighter, even if she stays silent the majority of the time we’re messing with her. “Listen—”
Devlin’s voice is cutting as he interrupts, wagging a finger at her. “I don’t like the way you look at my dick. It’s not sexy to think you might bite it off because you mistook it for a hotdog.”
“Oh damn!” I choke into my fist at the brutal burn. “Bro. That mental image. My eyes!”
Davis growls—actually growls like the trailer trash animal we call her—ready to fight Devlin. I’m kind of hoping she tackles him to the ground. He can take her, but it would be fun as hell to watch them wrestle. But our Devil Boy has her halting, balling her fists at her side.
“Whatever,” she spits. “You’re disgusting.”
“Oh, come on, sticky fingers.” Devlin props his chin in his hand, smirking because he knows he’s won, kicking the trash in the mud once again. These two are out for blood this year. “I’ve heard you get up to way worse for anyone willing to pay. But not me. I don’t pay for it, and I sure as fuck am not touching you with a ten-foot pole.”
He goes on. The man loves a savage diatribe, but I miss the rest of it because Thea walks in. Today her auburn curls are braided, a few strands escaping. She hugs her books to her chest as she pauses in the doorway to say bye to Landry’s sister. The school blazer is so big on her short frame, the cuffs of her sleeves become like sweater paws.
I want to unwrap her to get to the delectable body underneath. This lie of hers pisses me off, digging beneath the threshold of my patience.
Thea glances at me as she finds her seat at the desk in front of mine. Even more irritating than her fa
ke frumpy armor is that the only recognition for me is indifference. Maybe a hint of judgement because she’s caught some of how we’re treating Davis.
She doesn’t know I’m the one who gets her to come at least twice a day since she accidentally texted me.
Grunting under my breath, I turn my back on Thea to face Devlin at his seat behind me.
Davis sits stiffly in her chair in the next row over, sleek dark hair hiding most of her face as Devlin finishes eviscerating her by saying, “I don’t want this. It’s pathetic.”
Everyone watches as he rips the essay to pieces and flings the torn shreds in the air. They float to the ground by Blair’s feet. Our whole crew and the people that cling to us from the outer rings explode in laughter and coyote howls—the student body’s way of honoring our school mascot when something goes down.
Devlin takes out his finished essay and sets it on his desk. Damn, he’s an evil bastard. I snicker, sticking the tip of my tongue out of the side of my mouth.
Davis stares at the remains of the destroyed essay, her plump lips pinched at the corners as she fights not to react. The only reason we go at her as hard as we do is because she never does what we expect—doesn’t cry at the nasty names, refuses to fight back unless it’s Devlin, has never broken down, even after Devlin threw her lunch on the floor last year. She’s ice through and through, but ice has to melt sometime.
With a restrained bite in her tone, Davis asks, “Are you still going to—”
“You shouldn’t treat people like that.” A familiar soft but determined voice speaks up.
My mouth curves into a dangerous smile as Devlin, Davis, and I turn our attention to Thea.
She’s twisted around in her seat, cheeks tinged pink as she grips the back of her chair with white knuckles, practically touching my desk.
This is how I know she’s hiding the same tendencies as her mom. I open my mouth to bite back at my little mouse for intervening where she doesn’t belong.