“What’s wrong with my ring?” I grip my hands together, turning the ring so the diamond doesn’t show.
“It’s kind of a stigma, you know? Crew probably won’t talk to you since he believes you’re nothing but a scared little virgin promised to her daddy.”
Brooke smirks.
So does Lara.
“I’m sure all of the boys think that,” Brooke adds.
I leap to my feet, purposely nudging the table with my thighs, so I shove it in their direction, making them both yell out their displeasure.
“Oops. Sorry,” I tell them before I turn and leave the dining hall, ignoring all the curious looks aimed in my direction as I flee.
God, I’m so stupid. So…I don’t even know how to describe myself. Pitiful?
Pathetic?
I want to smack myself in the face. Only I would think I’m being strong by shoving a table in their direction after they said something so rude, only for me to go and apologize to them before I run away.
No wonder Crew thinks so little of me. I’m a sheltered little girl pretending to be an almost adult. About to turn eighteen and I haven’t done anything.
Nothing.
It never bothered me before, so why does it bother me now?
For the second time this week, I can feel tears flowing down my face as I walk the empty corridors of school, speeding up my pace as I go past the faculty room.
No way do I want Fig to come out and catch me again. He’d probably offer me more comfort and try to feel me up.
A shiver steals over me at the thought. The first horrible thought I’ve had about Figueroa since I started at Lancaster.
Maybe I shouldn’t be his TA.
I head for the side doors that lead to the quad and push through them, the icy cold air is like a slap to the face. I suck in a sharp breath, tucking my jacket around me, wishing I’d brought my coat, but I left it in my locker, not planning on needing it until school was finished.
Rounding the corner of the building, I come to a stop when I spot three male heads bent together. A puff of smoke rising from the center of the circle they make. I know every single one of them, and I come to a complete stop, frozen.
Not just from the chilly air, but from the straight panic zipping through me at seeing these particular three boys.
Ezra, Malcolm, and Crew.
It’s Malcolm who spots me first, holding a strange looking cigarette to his lips before he wraps them around it and takes a long, hard pull. His gaze finds mine, surprise clearly on his face as he removes the cigarette from his lips and drops his hand to his side. “Oh fuck, look who’s joining us.”
He elbows Crew, Ezra glancing over his shoulder, his eyes going wide when he spots me. “Great,” Ezra moans, “you going to tell on us, Beaumont?”
Tell on them for what? My nose wrinkles when the scent hits me. Like skunk. Oh…
They’re smoking weed.
Crew watches me with those all-seeing blue eyes, never saying a word, and my heart starts to beat faster.
“I’m sorry.” I really need to stop apologizing all the time. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just leaving…” I start to walk backward slowly, one step at a time, keeping my eyes on them. At the last second, I turn.
And run.
TEN
CREW
I chase after her, Malcolm and Ezra right behind me, both of them shouting, “Get her!”
Fuck, could they be any more obvious? We don’t need to call attention to ourselves. Don’t need to startle her either.
Too late for that. She’s broken out into a full-on run, her dark hair streaming behind her, that annoyingly childish yet sexy white ribbon at the back of her head bouncing with her every step. Her skirt flares, offering us a glimpse of slender bare thighs and I pick up speed.
I’m going to catch her first. Fuck these guys.
Ezra gives me a run for my money, keeping the same pace as me while Malcolm gives up, falling into a spasm of constant coughing. Too much weed does that to a person.
And Malcolm really loves his weed.
Determination filling me, I pump my arms and legs, pulling past Ezra, ignoring his “hey!” as I take the lead over him once again. I’m drawing closer to Wren, her steps slowing as her head turns left, then right.
Trying to figure out where to go next.
Don’t worry, little bird, I’ve almost got you figured out.
I’m within reaching distance when she darts to her left, dodging me at the last second.
“Birdy!” I yell her hated nickname at her, and she glances over her shoulder, her frightened gaze meeting mine.
It’s wrong that I feel joy at seeing the fear in her eyes, isn’t it? Yet a small part of me does. Knowing she’s scared gives me a sense of power, a heady rush straight to my head.