“I—I don’t know what you mean?” She stuttered, eyes tearing up.
“I think you do. Leave Jenna alone.” I raised my brow when she didn’t answer immediately.
Her friend elbowed her, and she nodded quickly.
“I can’t hear you.” I waited.
“Yes—okay. I’ll leave her alone.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving mine, the terror clear to see as a tear rolled down her face.
“Wise decision.”
Brooke giggled with Madison as I turned away, and they followed right behind. Nothing I’d done for Jenna had been out of the kindness of my heart. Now, Aaron owed me for saving his little toy, and he’d pay up by helping me get Ethan back in the game.
We moved down the hall together, shoes tapping against the tile. People didn’t exactly move out of our way; they adjusted, as if they’d always meant to be somewhere else. That was the sweet spot—fear that looked like choice.
“Are you coming to practice later?” Madison ran a hand down her ponytail.
“Yes, and I expect you to make sure everyone is on time. I have somewhere to be directly after.” I narrowed my eyes at them.
If it weren’t for cheerleading sometimes getting me away from Ben, I’d quit in a heartbeat. He didn’t accept extracurricular activities as an excuse for being late. In his mind, it was a frivolous distraction that kept me from preparing for whatever disaster he thought was coming this month.
They each nodded, and I trusted they would follow through, which is why I kept them around.
They peeled off toward their class, glancing back like they needed my approval. Lila lingered a beat longer.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
I looked into her eyes—hopeful and eager for me to open up. She had been attempting to be a true friend since our first day of kindergarten. I’d allowed it until my stepbrother left and my father turned into a drill sergeant.
Those days were long gone.
“I’m fine,” I stated with disapproval. She knew better than to question me.
Her shoulders dropped.
I turned and headed toward my history class.
Mr. Rowen’s classroom was lively before the bell, louder than usual but still under control. He stood at the front with rolled-up sleeves, girls sighing at the sight: dirty blond hair, piercing blue eyes, straight posture, and precise movements.
The man never yelled because he didn’t need to. He was the kind of man who expected his authority to be taken seriously. I was always fascinated by the way he controlled the class so calmly because I knew the real him—the one he’d learned to hide as he grew older.
The hotheaded asshole I could still see in his eyes when he looked at me.
Mr. Rowen wasn’t much older than us, only in his mid-twenties. The senior girls used any excuse to stay after class, hoping to catch his attention. Dying to be the one who cracked that nut.
I sat in the back row, third seat from the aisle. It was a strategic move. Exit access was important. Ben had emphasized that in one of his many lessons, and it was deeply ingrained in my mind.
Mr. Rowen’s eyes flicked to me—just a hint of heat in them—but he looked away quickly.
I’m sure he didn’t think I’d noticed, but I was more perceptive than most people my age. I had to be, as Ben wouldn’t accept anything less.
I’d started a campaign a few months ago to get his attention. It was relevant to my plans for the dick. Despite his strong will, I saw heated eyes looking in my direction in class and in the hallway when we passed. Given his strong morals, I knew he wouldn’t act on them, but I didn’t need him to.
I knew I was beautiful. It didn’t matter to me the way it did to most girls my age. I merely considered it a tool I could pull out and use as needed, nothing more.
Another lesson from Ben.
“Good morning,” he eyed the class. “Settle down. It’s time for announcements.”
