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Acid feels like it’s boiling beneath my skin, seconds from exploding. I have to get out of here. I might not listen much to that quack therapist every week, but the coping methods keep me in check.
Without acknowledging Thea or Coleman, I keep walking down the hall to cool off before I deal with them.
After I skip first and most of second period to go for a long run on the track, then grab a shower,
I’m late to English class. Exercise helped, but I’m still on edge as I enter the room. The sight of Coleman is enough to have me teetering close to the uncontrollable anger again.
What’s so great about him that the girls are always eating out of his palm? Until Thea, I didn’t care about a young teacher getting his rocks off with the ego boost of high school girls fawning over him.
Coleman’s eyes harden at my interruption. That all-American veneer cracks under pressure. Come on, everything about this guy screams creepy. How do the girls want anything to do with him? Their red flags should be flying around him.
“You’re late, Mr. Bishop.” Coleman pretends to be authoritative, but I’m not taking it seriously. “Care to explain yourself?”
My skin feels too tight. I almost lost complete control earlier. The thing about being a little unhinged is the breaking point is always a hairline trigger away.
“No,” I snark, eyebrow raised.
“Excuse me?”
Coleman doesn’t find my backtalk amusing. The urge to laugh bubbles up in my chest and I push it back down with serious effort. The humor helps cut through the red haze of rage.
A few muffled snorts sound to my left. Devlin and Blair have their hands covering their mouths, eyes sparkling. Everyone loves a little bit of anarchy to break up the monotonous bullshit of high school.
Their gazes meet in mutual interest and something passes between them. See? Fucking told him he had the hots for her.
Thea doesn’t seem as impressed with my antics, a disapproving, worried frown marring her pretty features. I’m reminded once again why I shouldn’t trust her. Why I can’t want her like I do. Why does my dick not behave when I need it to? Maybe everything she does will stop messing with my head if I can hit it once and get her out of my system, like the mystery of what she tastes like when it’s not my imagination is driving me insane.
Then I could get back on track.
Ignoring Mr. Coleman, I stroll by like I’m not late, enjoying the strangled sound of indignation he can’t quite muffle. The closer I get to Thea, the more this morning grates on my nerves. Over and over it replays in my mind: her hand on his arm, her bright smile. I glare at her as the betrayal burns in my gut.
I should destroy her for that act of disloyal defiance. Blast her photos to the whole damn school. She’s more trouble than she’s worth to have my way against my mom and hers. I swear, I’ve never put so much effort in with a girl. No one ever fights me, questions me, defies me the way she does.
The brunt of my glare is a blow. Thea slouches down in her seat, shoulders hunched over.
As I drop in my chair, an aggravated sigh explodes out of me. Everything has gone to shit today.
It takes a minute to register the complete silence in the room. Glancing up at Coleman, I wave my hand.
“Well?” I snap my fingers, impersonating Coleman when he wants us to pay attention. The enraged look that flashes on his face has me biting back a smirk. “I’m here to get an education.”
As titters move through the class, I feel Devlin nudge me from behind in support.
Mr. Coleman’s jaw works. “Let’s get back to the lesson. Can anyone tell me your thoughts on the protagonist’s passage on page forty-three?”
Things are fine for the fraction of a second between the end of the question and Thea’s hand shooting in the air, flailing her arm with an eager tremor to answer. Then the irrational anger rises like a tide in a hurricane, flooding through my system.
“Yes?” Coleman calls on Thea.
“I think the passage means that it’s important to be true to yourself,” she answers softly, her arm still hanging in the air.
I suck in a sharp breath. To rub salt in my open wounds, all I smell is sugar because she sits in front of me.
Be true to yourself? Something I know she isn’t. The proof sits on my phone and that blog. Thea is full of secrets.
“Yes, Thea,” Coleman praises, flashing his gleaming white teeth in an energetic smile. His praise earns a laugh from her, the sound pleased at his attention. “Excellent.”
The pencil I choke in my grip breaks when I gouge it against the blank page in my notebook. I picture it’s Coleman’s face I’m stabbing. Bouncing my knee, I have to rein myself in before I grab Thea and drag her into my lap like I’m some deranged caveman. That’s not my style, but she drives me to madness.
