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“Fuck, I understand.”
After glaring at him for another moment, I shoved him into the lockers and looked back to Mateo, who was straightening himself out and was now surrounded by a couple of popular sophomore girls.
As the punk stormed down the hallway, I nodded toward Mateo. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” one of the girls said, eyeing Mateo’s nose.
“Go get him cleaned up,” I said to her, throwing a wink back at Mateo and hoping he got my drift.
That kid barely had any friends and was awkward as fuck around girls, it seemed. He smiled slightly, then disappeared into another hallway with the girls and another geeky kid who looked to be like his friend.
Walking into the main hallway, I caught sight of Vera. Chocolate-brown hair cascading down her back, brown eyes wide, lips curled into a soft smile as she looked into her locker. I stopped and swallowed hard, then shook my head.
The fuck is happening to me?
Last night hadn’t meant shit. Last night, I had only wanted to use her to feel good. That was why I had driven all the way down into the slums, spent hours playing video games with Mateo, then brought her back to my place.
No other fucking reason.
With my skateboard clutched to my side, I walked down the hallway and tried hard not to stare at her. She hadn’t even noticed me, wasn’t even looking for me, didn’t even give a shit about me. All she cared about was me not ruining her reputation.
Before I could make it another step, someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me into a janitor’s closet. A moment later, the single dim overhead light bulb turned on. Skylar stood in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest in the most unflattering light ever.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you wanted the entire school to know you’re hanging with Vera Rodriguez, Redwood scum.” She cackled and smirked at me, like I fucking cared. “You are trying to keep it a secret, aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m hanging with her,” I said, trying to brush it off quickly. “She’s my fucking partner for the History project. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Let her do it all by herself?”
“Yes,” Skylar said, strumming her manicured nails on her elbow and stepping closer to me in this already-cramped space. “I do because I know you, Blaise. I know that you don’t give a fuck about school or your grades or anyone but yourself because your mommy and daddy don’t give a shit about you.”
Her words fucking hurt. She knew exactly what to say to get to me.
I stepped back against the trash bin. “What the fuck do you want, Skylar?”
She moved even closer to me, and I had nowhere to fucking go unless I wanted my ass to be covered with garbage for the rest of the day.
She placed one of her hands on my abdomen. “I want you to be honest with me.”
“I fucking a—” I started. When she moved her hand down my abdomen to my belt, I shoved her back into the shelves with cleaning supplies and paper towels. “Get the fuck off me, you bitch.”
“Or what?” she asked, stepping between me and the door. “Are you going to hit me?”
“I’m not fucking playing, Skylar. Move.”
“No.”
After gritting my teeth, I ran a hand through my hair. “You want to know what my fucking problem is? I never said that I fucking liked you, and you’re acting like we’re dating. I don’t gotta explain shit to you. What’syourfucking problem lately?”
Skylar crossed her arms. “That bitch is my problem. She’s scum.”
“You’re the fucking scum!” I shouted, wanting to get it through that empty head of hers.
“You’re the one who has been leading me on for months now.”
“Bro, I’m not fucking having this conversation with you right now,” I said, stepping toward her, about to shove her out of the way again.
