AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah, man, what point are you trying to make here?” Aiden asks. When I meet his gaze, he slinks into the background.
I keep my hand in place as she twists out the combination again, but when she tries to pull the door open, I hold firm, keeping it closed.
“Rome!” She scoffs. “Let me in my locker!”
“I don’t want you here,” I tell her truthfully. One thing I’ve noticed about Elodie in the past few days is she hates when someone else makes a decision for her. She wants control at all times, and I plan to slowly strip that from her until she feels as much pain as I have over the past year.
Her hand drops from the lock and she turns to face me, causing my chest to flutter.
“And I don’t want to be here. But you know what? I am! I’m stuck here, Rome. So can we please try and make the best of it?” Her eyes plead with mine, but it’s too late. I lost all urge to protect her a year ago.
Aiden points a finger back and forth between the two of us. “Are you two still talking about the locker, because I get the feeling there’s something more to this.”
“Yes!” I blurt out at the same time as she says, “No!”
“I’m not moving my locker.” Elodie sighs, as if I am the one causing her trouble in this situation and not the other way around. “I’m done trying to accommodate everyone else.” She looks at Aiden as if he’s her friend, on her side. “I’ll try again later when Rome isn’t behaving like such a child.”
She pulls her messenger bag tighter to her shoulder and spins around, walking away.
“What the hell, dude?” I huff, shoving him. “Why are you being so nice to her?”
Aiden lifts his shoulder, eyes wide. “She seems pretty chill. And you’re acting like this is all her fault when we both know the person you should really be pissed at is yourself, or your dad.”
“That’s what she wants you to think. She’s not chill. She’s the reason my life has gone to shit.” Aiden doesn’t know the truth about that night, and I have no plans to tell him. Now that the girl who destroyed me is living in Willow Creek—in my house—I plan to use it to my advantage, but I need to get some of this aggression out before I explode.
“Eh,” Aiden tsks. “You are sort of behaving like a child. Just suck it up and get through the school year.”
My teeth grind out a harrowing sound, cutting him off as I punch my fist to her locker door.
Pain shoots from my knuckles up to my forearm. I shake my hand, forcing away the sensation as I grit out, “You’re either on my side or hers, but you don’t get to be on both.”
With that, I walk away, nursing my sore hand. I don’t know what I’m going to do with Elodie Astor, but one way or another, she’s going to feel the same pain I've lived with for the past twelve months.
Even if it breaks her.
CHAPTER 4
ELODIE
I was feeling pretty good about my schedule, up until this point. I slid through my first couple classes without having a single one with Rome, but now every time the bell rings, there he is. Walking through the doors with his boy gang of football players, laughing his ass off without a care in the world.
Why would he be anything but happy? This is the school he attended his whole life. These are his classmates. This is his town. His team.
So why am I so bitter about his joy?
I’ll tell you why…
I’ve been carrying around a bag full of books at my new school all day because Rome guards his locker—and mine—during the five-minute break between classes. I’ve avoided confrontation and just walked right past him like it didn’t bother me one bit. Kill him with kindness, right?
I mean, who the hell does this guy think he is bullying me like this? There is no reason, that I know of, for Rome to hate me this much. Bitter would be understandable after I rejected and embarrassed him, but taunting me like this is absolutely ridiculous. Is this why everyone here bows to him? Because he tortures them into submission?
I guess there’s only one thing left to do. I have to try and have a civil conversation with him because I refuse to live each day tiptoeing around this new town.
I’m a stellar student with a 4.6 GPA. I won’t allow Rome, or anyone else, to distract me from my goals. If my grades drop, I could lose not only my scholarships, but also my acceptance to Stanford.
With all the supplies I need for my American lit class laid out perfectly in front of me—two mechanical pencils filled with lead, a notebook for taking notes, and a folder for any papers our teacher might hand out—I place my arms on the table and take a deep breath. Meditation is supposed to help calm your nerves, and I have found that a minute or two of breathing and letting my mind go blank helps me start fresh with each new class.
When I zone back in, I notice a few students with their laptops and Chromebooks out. This class doesn’t require the use of them, as stated in the online syllabus I found on the school website. Instead, we’ll be getting good old-fashioned textbooks, and the classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities. It just so happens I’ve read it twice. I happen to prefer the tactile experience of flipping through pages, versus swiping on a screen.
