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“Don’t you dare run, Remi.” His voice washes over me, pulling the invisible thread between us taut.
I want to run to him, not from him, but I’m still pissed, and I refuse to be the girl constantly letting people walk all over her.
Even if one of those people is my boyfriend.
He takes another step forward. “We need to talk.”
The hall is empty now, and I’m late for class. Again.
“Ready to tell me the truth?” Indecision flickers in his eyes, but he remains silent, telling me all I need to know. I let out a heavy sigh and add, “Didn’t think so. I need to get to class. You should probably think about doing the same.”
He stalks closer, and I know that if he reaches me, I’ll break. Taking my chances, I dart around him, but Ace is quicker, snagging my wrist. “Remi, please...”
I yank my hand away and meet his defeated gaze. “See you around, Ace.”
I walk away. Maybe I’m being foolish. Maybe I should hear him out. But I didn’t come all this way just to have him undo all the trust we’ve built.
My cell vibrates the second I disappear around the corner, and I know without looking it’s him.
Ace: You can run, Princess, but I’ll always find you. You see, I love you. I fucking love you more than I ever thought possible. And I know I screwed up last night... I know it seems like I’m keeping secrets. But I just need a couple more days. That’s all I’m asking...
Dragging my bottom lip between my teeth, I text him back.
Me: Not good enough.
I shove my cell back in my pocket and slip into class. The teacher gives me a terse glare as I find an empty seat and try to pay attention.
It’s not easy.
Homecoming is in three days. Maybe that’s Ace’s master plan. He always said we had to hit Michaela where it hurt most, but every time I think about them in the same thought, I’m overcome with jealousy.
She’s manipulative and conniving and manages to dig her nails into everything she sets her sights on, poisoning it with her prep school princess bullshit.
Even if Ace’s scheme topples her off her throne, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive him if he...
I push down the thoughts.
Ace wouldn’t touch Michaela. Hurt her, yes. But touch her, no way. Not after everything we’ve been through.
I’m worrying over nothing.
I’m letting my hatred for her cloud my judgement.
Until she walks into the room and her eyes land right on me. Her lips curl into a vicious smirk, a wicked glint in her eyes.
A knowing glint.
Fuck.
I’ve seen this look before. It’s the one she gave me when I walked into Surf’s all those years ago to find her sitting next to my dad like she belonged there.
Michaela thinks she’s won.
And I can’t help but wonder if, finally, she has.
The second the bell rings, I’m out of my seat. Michaela barely gives me a second glance as she saunters from the room in that godforsaken cheer outfit. Anger fuels me as I catch up to her, grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at me.
“Excuse me, psycho...” Her eyes drop to where my fingers are digging into her wrist. “Get your hands off me.”
