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SEVENTEEN
I could have very well allowed Brandon to take me home to change, but being cloaked in his addictive scent is worth the stares.
Throughout the afternoon, I find myself discreetly sniffing the fabric. It’s a pleasant distraction from everything else.
After a challenging session in art class, I’m eager to leave the day behind.
“Kayla.” Rajid sidles up to me in the hallway on the way out, giving my hand a gentle touch. “Are you all right? The nail polish thing is all over school.” He scowls at Brandon’s tee on me.
I sigh. “Nothing slides in this place, huh. It’s so damn annoying.”
“Which is why you should stay away from Decker,” he deadpans. “Or stuff like that will keep happening. Girls have been in love with him since freshman year, no matter how weird he is.”
That infuriates me. I return in a biting tone, “Brandon isn’t weird. Why don’t you knock it off?”
“Yeah, Raj, stop scolding Kayla,” Sam argues, pacing up to us. Rajid moves his hand from mine. “It’s not her fault some people are assholes.”
He huffs and steers his pissed gaze back to me. “Look, all I’m saying is, being around Decker will make your experience at Charleston horrible. Stop hanging out with him.”
“It’s not your call,” I fume, folding my arms.
He twists his mouth in apparent frustration. “Kayla, I insist you reconsider dating him.”
Sam leans to one side, asking him, “Why are you so concerned?”
Rajid looks at her and shakes his head, then stomps off to his car.
Sam flicks back to me, lines in her forehead as she studies me without speaking.
“What’s up with Rajid?” I ask, at a loss.
“You tell me,” she grumbles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She walks away, leaving me more baffled.
I shrug it off and continue to Brandon’s Mercedes. He’s not there.
Minutes trickle by as I wait by the passenger door, ignoring the cold stares and giggles until he finally exits the building.
Brandon comes to a stop with space between us and reaches two new uniforms to me, sealed in plastic.
I frown. “Brandon, I told you not—”
“Take it,” he grunts. “Don’t argue.”
“Fine.” I snatch the plastic from him without touching his fingers.
He unlocks the car and veers around once I get in.
“What did you work on today?” he asks after pulling out of school.
I like how interested he is in my art. “Scenery. It was tough.” And truthfully, all that’s on my mind is him. I only want to draw that striking face with those tummy-tingling eyes and that dark demeanor.
Stop it.
I clear the naughty ideas and ask, “What did you say to Madison? I saw one of her friends in the hallway. She seemed nervous.”
A devious smirk appears. “I simply warned them to stay away from you. I thought about setting Madison’s car on fire to drive the point home, but didn’t want anyone accusing you.”
My eyes widen. “Geez. I see why people are terrified of you.”
