Page 59 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

Cassidy went stiff beside me.

“Problem?” I asked calmly.

“No problem at all,” Naomi said with a fake smile. “Just didn’t realize you were that quick to spread your legs. Three weeks in town and you’re already wearing teeth marks like a trophy.”

A couple of her friends snickered.

I tied my hair back slowly. “Funny.”

“What’s funny?”

I turned to face her. “You calling me easy… when you’re the one who snuck into Jackson’s bed naked and got thrown out like yesterday’s trash.”

The locker room went dead quiet.

Naomi’s face drained of color for a split second, then flooded red. “That never happened.”

I just looked at her.

“It didn’t,” she insisted, voice rising. “Whoever told you that is full of shit.”

I tilted my head slightly, letting the hickey catch the light. “He told me himself.”

Her friends suddenly got very interested in their shoes.

“You’re lying,” Naomi spat. “Jackson would never touch you.”

I smiled, small and cold. “Keep telling yourself that.”

She took a step forward, fists clenched. “You fucking bitch—”

"Both of you, stop," Cassidy cut in, stepping between us.

Naomi held the glare for another long second, like she was deciding whether it was worth pushing further. Then she spun on her heel and stormed out, ponytail still only half-done. Her two friends scrambled after her without a word.

Cassidy turned to me, eyebrows raised.

“You and Jackson?”

“Not talking about it.”

She grinned. “After practice. You’re telling me everything.”

I picked up my water bottle. “I’m telling you nothing.”

“You say that now,” she said, still smiling as we headed out. “But I’m very persuasive.”

Practice was all intervals and drills. After a quick shower, I pulled on jeans and a black turtleneck, then let Cassidy steer me toward the cafeteria. She bought two coffees and slid one across the table the second we sat down.

She lasted about four seconds.

“So,” she said, eyes gleaming. “You and Jackson.”

I took a slow sip. “There is no ‘me and Jackson.’”

“Liar. That hickey says otherwise. It’s practically a neon sign.”

I picked at the fruit cup. “Drop it.”