I lean back in my seat after placing my pencil back down on the desk. Let’s face it, I probably shouldn’t risk sketching again only to end up with a drawing of the dickhead behind me. God, what was I thinking? That was mortifying.
Damian’s lowered tone breaks me out of my inner turmoil and has my ears pricking up like some kind of animal. “Hunters High has been talkin’ shit again.”
“Let ‘em,” Slade’s deep rumbly voice replies. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to crush them.”
“You sure, man? Have you seen Roman Westbrock? He’s fucking good. I heard he’s already been offered a full ride.”
“Sure, he’s good, but he’s not better than me. He only got that full ride because his sister sucked the dean’s cock during summer break and has been threatening to tell his wife unless Roman got accepted.”
Damian barks out a sharp laugh. “No shit?”
“I shit you not. Besides, their one good player is nothing without the backup of his team and those other jocks can’t cut it. They wouldn’t know the difference between their own ass and their teammates.”
“Not to mention, we’ve got that new kid. What’s his name?”
There’s a heavy silence that seems to stretch on forever. I feel a heated gazed shooting into the back of my head and I don’t doubt that it belongs to Slade. In fact, after being glared at all day yesterday, I think I could probably pick out his glare in a line-up of a million people. There’s just something so…chilling about it.
Something is whispered before Slade’s lowered voice hits my ears. “It’s her brother,” he says with distaste. “Blake Daniels, but he ain’t shit. As long as I’m captain that little prick is going to see more bench time than the fucking water boy.”
“The fuck?” Damian says as I throw myself out of my seat and spin around, shocking myself with how fast I move. “I thought the kid was good.”
“What did you just say?” I screech, facing a grinning Slade who’s stretched out, looking impossibly comfortable in the stiff classroom chair. I probably could have controlled myself here had this dick said anything else. There’s a lot of shit I’d put up with, but when someone uses my brother to get to me, and worse, does it by threatening his basketball career, it means business.
“Listening in on a private conversation?” he questions, raising a brow, trying and succeeding to get a rise out of me.
“You’re a fucking idiot if you don’t play Blake. What’s your problem with him? He’s done nothing to you. If you’d just give him a chance, you’d see he’s an incredible player. Hell, I’d put money down that he’s better than your sloppy ass.”
“Skylah,” Mr. Carver demands. “Sit down.”
Both Slade and I ignore him, both of us as equally locked in the other’s intense stare as Damian’s eyes flick between us like some sort of tennis match. The left side of Slade’s lips pull up into an amused sneer which only manages to infuriate me. “You really want to know my problem?” Slade says as though he’s about to tease me with his response. He sits forward, getting as close as he can so he can reveal his little secret. “It’s you. Everything about you. Your bad attitude and your sickening desperation to prove that you’re some sort of tough bitch. Well, guess what? I see right through you and you’re nothing but trash.”
I scoff. If this is what he really thinks of me then that’s on him. I’m a fucking treat which only makes him a liar. If he thinks I’m here to prove something, then he can’t see through me at all. He’s taking guesses and in this case, he couldn’t be more wrong.
I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring Mr. Carver’s roar as he demands the class’s attention. “You’re going to play Blake.”
“Sure, I’ll play him,” Slade says. “Once your bitch ass is gone.”
I see fucking red.
I don’t know why and I certainly don’t know how but one second, I’m standing, facing the prick and the next, I’m flying over the desk, nails out and more than ready to cause some damage to his pretty face.
Slade’s eyes widen in surprise but the excitement is so loud that he may as well be screaming it from the top of his lungs. He lets me come at him, but unlike in the past, Slade catches me with an ease that’s almost laughable.
Within the blink of an eye, I’m sitting on his lap with my body pressed down against the cool desk. My hands are twisted and held tightly behind my back, both of them wrapped between the fingers of his right hand while his left remains firmly on my back, holding me down.
Slade leans over me as I distantly hear Mr. Carver yelling at the top of his lungs, but right here, right now, all I can hear is him. His body presses down over me and I feel the zipper of his jeans move against my ass as he lowers his mouth to my ear. “I guess you have a weak spot after all, Virago.”