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“Yeah, I sort of do. I need to talk to him about some other stuff anyway.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, I’m perfectly fine with it.”
After what he told me about his dad hitting him, I’m in no way comfortable making him go see him just for my benefit. Besides, considering I’m Mr. Porterson’s new guy, I’m not sure if I have any more questions for Mr. Porterson. He made everything pretty damn searing clear this morning. But I do need to find out more about the situation with Axel.
“Do you think it’s okay if I go into my house today?” I wonder. “Or is this Axel dude going to stalk my house like twenty-four seven?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip. “I think you need to probably wait until I talk to my dad.”
“How’s your dad going to help us with Axel? I thought they were enemies?”
“They are, but like all enemies, they still know each other’s business.”
“All enemies do that?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the termkeep your friends close and your enemies closer?”
“But then, why do they get pissed off when the people who work for them associate with each other, or work for both?”
“Because they’re both power hungry and want control,” he explains tightly. “If they do it, it’s fine, because they’re the bosses. But if the people below them do it, it’s disrespectful. Even my brothers and sister and I aren’t technically supposed to associate with anyone connected to Axel.” His jaw tightens as he stares off over my shoulder. “Amelia makes that really fucking complicated.”
“Do you two have history together or something?”
His jaw nearly smacks the ground. “Are you shitting me right now?”
I shake my head. “You seem really pissed off every time you mention her, like she’s your ex-girlfriend or something.”
His face contorts in disgust. “I swear I’ve never wanted to or have dated Amelia.” He gives a short, considering pause. “She’s not my type.”
“Yeah, your type seems more like that girl in our first-period class. I don’t know her name, but she’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, big boobs, and a super, super pretty face.” I bite back a smile, angle my head to my side, and tap my finger against my lips. “Yeah, you two would be super pretty together. With her pretty face”—I pinch his cheek—“and your pretty boy face, you’d be the perfect, pretty couple.”
He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think me and Layla would make a perfect couple?”
“Her name’s Layla?” I muse. “Layla and Blaise? Yeah, it has a pretty ring to it.”
His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he stares at me unnervingly. “And what sort of name is Hadley?”
I grin. “A feisty name.”
“Nah, it seems more pretty than feisty.” He steps toward me and places his hand on the wall behind me, leaning in so our bodies are mere inches from each other. “The girl the name belongs to, however, might be a different story.”
“Oh, she’s totally feisty,” I assure him, refusing to step back.
“Maybe.” The corners of his lips quirk. “But she’s also pretty.”
I shake my head. “No, she’s not.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because pretty is more of a term used to describe a girlie girl who’s attractive, something I’m definitely not.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not pretty.”
I grin, but my heart stupidly stings, like it wants to be called pretty.
What a dumbass.
