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DELILAH
“Bitch.”
I don’t even bother pretending to care anymore. That’s the thing about hearing people calling you names every day. Eventually, it stops mattering. So long as they keep it this way and don’t start getting physical, I can take it.
Aside from that, things haven’t been too bad the past few days. After the scissor incident, Lucas is up my ass most of the time. I can’t make a move without his approval. He won’t let me sleep alone, but he hasn’t touched me since that night in his bed. That part, I’m trying not to take it personally.
Besides, it’s not like he won’t eventually break down and give in to what he wants. I feel the way he looks at me. I bet he can’t stop thinking about that night. I know I can’t. I’m actually a little sad that the bite marks are fading. I wonder what Doctor Lauren would think about that. It must mean I’m a complete freak.
“Hey.”
I was so busy fantasizing that I didn’t notice Marcel falling in step beside me on the way down the hall. He’s not so much walking with me as he’s walking nearby. I get it. He doesn’t want anybody connecting us.
“Hey,” I murmur, looking at the floor. “Where were you this morning?” He doesn’t understand how my life revolves around our meetings in class. Not that we talk about much, but I need the reminder that I’m not alone.
“I overslept.”
“I was worried.”
He only grunts. “How’s it going with her?”
I don’t answer until we’re past a cluster of girls, all of whom shoot me dirty looks. It gives me a second to come up with an excuse, at least. “I haven’t had a lot of time to do anything. I don’t get a lot of freedom.”
“You haven’t even tried yet?”
My heart sinks in desperation. What does he want from me? I’m not a miracle worker. “It’s not like there’s any chance of us running into each other. We have nothing in common.”
“You’ll have to think of something. Don’t you have any classes together?”
“No,” I whisper, and now I’m looking at the floor to hide the frustrated tears that want to fill my eyes. I manage to blink them back. Once again, I’m trying to explain myself, but the idiot I’m talking to doesn’t want to hear it.
“She likes books,” he mutters as we turn a corner. Nobody seems to be paying attention.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen her outside the library a lot. You should pretend you like books, too. You could meet her there.”
Pretend to like books?Um, I like books, too. I want to say but don’t. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’d better. We’ve been waiting long enough to get to her. We have one chance at it. Don’t screw it up for us.” That’s not exactly my fault, but it’s not like I’d say it out loud even if Marcel didn’t haul ass without warning.
I have a free period, meaning I could go to the library now. I don’t know if she’ll be there, but it might look more legit if I set up a habit of hanging out there. She could still be watching her back for all I know.
It isn’t Aspen I have to worry about.
It’s her asshole husband.
I barely realize it’s him rushing at me until I’m already crashing against the wall.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snarls in my face.
“What did I do?” I whisper, and I hate myself for whispering because it makes me look scared.
“Don’t fuck around with me. I saw you talking to him.”
“To who?”
“Enough!” He pulls his fist back, and I cringe away from the pain I expect to explode across my face. When he hits the wall beside my head, it doesn’t make me feel much better.
