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“Keep talking and I’ll black your other eye.”
“You need to talk to your guy, Remi, because he’s grumpier than a bear with a sore head. I thought you were supposed to be happier when you’re getting regular pus—“
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, because I lean over and slap him upside the head.
“What was that for?” he yelps.
“Remi’s not wrong,” Cole says. “You talk too fucking much”.
“Oh it’s like that now, you’re both taking her side?” I poke my tongue out at him. “That’s some bullshit.”
A minute later and he’s pulling into the school parking lot. Kids swarm the lawns and dread slithers through me. This is the part I hate—the part where Ace and I have to go back to pretending.
“I guess I’ll see you later?” I say.
A knowing smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “For a prep school princess, you really are fucking dumb at times.”
“What the—“
“Get out of the car, Princess,” he growls, and I do as I’m told, but only because I need space from him before I knee him in the balls.
Ace follows me out, and I’m just about to walk off when he snags my wrist. His fingers slip down my hand, tangling with my own. I gawk at our joined hands and then lift my eyes to his. “But—“
“No buts.” He starts pulling me toward the building. “It’s time everyone in this fucking school knows who you belong to.”
“Ace,” I say, trying to push him away from me. He has me pressed up my locker, kissing my neck in the most delicious way. I guess after one class apart he’s feeling as needy as I am.
Kids are staring but giving us a wide berth. It’s a definite perk of being with the most scary guy in school.
“We have an audience,” I whisper, raking my nails over his skull as he grazes the soft, sensitive skin along my throat with his teeth.
“Let them watch.” His murmurs dance over my neck, and my breath catches with a soft moan.
“So it is true?” a voice says.
Ace takes a deep breath, standing rigid while I slowly slide my eyes to Michaela.
“The gangbanger and the peasant, how fitting,” she snarls.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Ace moves into her space, but I grab his arm.
“Don’t,” I say, slipping around him, putting myself between them. “She isn’t worth it.”
Tension ripples in the hall as kids watch, probably chomping at the bit for the long overdue showdown between me and Michaela.
“I’m worth a damn sight more than you,” she scoffs, folding her arms over her chest and cocking her hip.
Something explodes inside me. I’m fed up of turning the other cheek when it comes to Michaela and her bullshit opinions about me. It’s about time she learned that she can’t always get what she wants and watch me fall.
This time, I fucking win.
“Whatever, Michaela.” I’ve wanted to watch her fall from her throne for so long, but standing here, seeing the jealousy shimmer in her eyes, I realize no matter how much she has—the big house and expensive car, a line of guys all vying for attention, the trust fund account, and Ivy League school offer—she’ll always want more. People like Michaela can never be happy because they spend too much time worrying about things that don’t matter.
I might not have the big, expensive house anymore, or Daddy’s credit card at my disposal, but the truth is, I don’t want or need it. Money doesn’t make people happy, it makes them shallow. It makes them fake. And that’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be.
“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” Her eyes widen.
“I don’t need to say anything else.” I shrug, a deep sense of acceptance washing over me. “I spent so long wondering what I did to deserve your betrayal. I’ve cried so many tears over you. Tears that turned to hatred. But now, now I look at you and all I feel is pity.”
