Connor
When I meet Thea in the morning, blocking her driveway so she has no choice but to get in, I’m prepared for battle. It turns out I don’t need to be. Other than rehashing the same argument about the merits of her doll car, she eventually gives in.
A few days pass where we settle into this new routine. I pick her up in the morning, she kicks up a cute little fuss about it, then when I remind her the clock is ticking she hops in. She still asks a deluge of questions, but is no longer resisting the deal. Her questions have my guard up. She’s probably looking for any way out, but now she’s approaching me with more logic and strategy.
Good luck, little mouse. You’re going up against a master. You can’t outsmart me.
She’s acting like she genuinely cares and wants to help, but I can’t believe that. I’m blackmailing her. Why would she help me?
Doctor Levitt would spout some crap about harboring trust beginning with small steps, like believing someone means what they say instead of looking for the lie, but people suck. We’re all wired to save ourselves. Thea can’t be as honest and straightforward as she seems.
As soon as we pull into the student lot in the morning, she scurries off before she’s seen. Without meaning to, I’ve been arriving before the rest of my crew. Somehow, she gets me to consider her. She gets under my skin, bending me to her will. It must be that inexplicable instinct to protect her.
For now it’s enough to add a few Instagram posts together to lay the groundwork. We can stay pretty DL until I need her on my arm for Mom’s campaigning, but she stays in my head all day and my dreams at night.
Devlin’s starting to notice. He busted my balls about it last night before our soccer match. He should focus on his own shit. I’ve seen glimpses of the kinky game he’s playing with Blair Davis.
It’s my fault anyway for pulling out my phone and looking at one of her photos in the locker room.
My days seem quiet and bland without her messages. I think I miss them, if that’s possible. Me. Torn up over a chick. Unbelievable.
All I keep wondering is if she misses what we had, too. It wasn’t always about getting off—she’d show me her baking, or slip in comments about her day. An amused sound punches out of me because she’s really chatty for such a quiet girl once she breaks past her line.
The move is hers to make, but I hope it won’t be long before she craves it too much to care that it’s me. I wasn’t kidding, I’m betting I’m the only one who can give her what she wants. Her stupid Wyatt couldn’t handle her, not like I can.
I might not believe her word, but the physical chemistry between us? It’s a firecracker.
Thinking about her texting me, knowing it’s me this time… I trace my lip and cock my head. Anticipating the satisfying thrill is almost too much to handle.
I’m stalking the halls, looking for Devlin before first period when he didn’t show in the parking lot, but something else makes me halt. Some underclassman crashes into my back and I swear I can see his soul leave his body when my scowl lands on him. The kid squeaks out some apology and disappears. I turn my attention back to what made me stop.
Thea. Standing awfully fucking close to Coleman.
Her secret blog I discovered flashes in my head. Is Thea better at this than I gave her credit for, putting on a good girl act to get attention? I knew it. No one’s that naïve. And here I was, all protective over her when I saw those creepy comments. But she clearly has no qualms throwing herself at men.
Fake girlfriend or not, teacher or not, no chick of mine should be seen cozying up with another man. I need to do a deeper dig on Coleman to find something—anything on him that will keep him away from Thea. My suspicion from the other day hasn’t faded.
She touches his arm for a brief second with a big smile, then gestures to the pastry-filled table beside them. Vague recognition crosses my mind. There was a new Instagram post Thea made this week of her kitchen exploding with baked goods with the caption bake your feels away followed by a yellow heart and a sun emoji.
To make matters worse, she’s wearing the same sweater from the photo I was looking at last night. My hands ball into fists and my teeth clench. How many guys would she send a photo like that to, pulling the edge up to show off her stomach and a hint of her tits?
I’ve seen the fucking blog. That was a couple of years ago, but maybe she’s had good practice since then and upgraded to the way she was with me.
Jealousy is an irrational emotion, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it surging, calling on the vicious anger threatening to break free, threatening to break Coleman’s face for looking at her. I don’t fucking share.
I stalk the length of the hallway. If he didn’t get the message the two times he’s seen me all over her, I’ll make it crystal fucking clear this time. She’s mine and he needs to stay away.
“I think you’d be a perfect fit to head the winter formal planning committee,” Coleman tells her, waving at the table. “You organized this so well. What do you say?”
“I don’t know,” Thea murmurs, blushing a pretty shade of red. “I’m not a great public speaker.”
“This wouldn’t be like that. I was the faculty advisor last year, and the students kept it informal, more like a club meeting. I think you’ll do great.”
“Really?”
Christ, she’s so starved for attention, she needs him to praise her? I’m going to put my fist through a locker.
Thea spots me as I stop a few feet away and goes still. She picks up a wrapped pastry and takes a step toward me.