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Bellamy.
You should know the name of your opponent before you destroy them.
She looks down at me with venom in her eyes and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she collects her things.
Looking around for a new seat, she walks over to a chair a row in front of mine to the left before dropping into it miserably. I make note of Jeremy, a second-string striker on the football team, giving her a quick smile.
“Find out about her.” I toss at Phoenix.
???
7.
Bellamy
I make it through the rest of the morning relatively unscathed.
I say ‘relatively’ because students I’ve never met before jeer and taunt me as I walk through the halls to my next classes.
Slut.
Whore.
Nympho.
The insults aren’t very imaginative, but they don’t need to be to be effective. The sight of the wet patch on my pants, courtesy of Rogue, leads to the more creative ‘wet crotch slut’ nickname.
I clutch the strap of my backpack for support and continue about my day, head held high. I refuse to let them see how it affects me.
But inside, I’m in turmoil.
The bullying, I can live with.
Maybe.
But Professor Fletcher calling me out for the bad first impression I made was a blow. I’ve never been admonished by a teacher in that way, and I can’t start letting that happen now when my scholarship depends on my continued success.
It’s all because of that psycho, Rogue.
How dare he interfere in my school life? Howdarehe put it in jeopardy?
His wrath feels unwarranted, just like the intensity of the punishment he’s doling out through his cronies.
It can’t all be over a milkshake and a ruined t-shirt.
As pissed as I am with him, I’m equally annoyed with myself and my body for reacting to his touch. His mouth spews sadistic intent that his hands carry out.
And my body yields.
I’d reacted to his ponytail grab like I would to a gentle caress, not an act of aggression.
It must be daddy issues-related, obviously. There’s no other reason. But I know I’m not the only one affected.
When I’d leaned against his chest, captive in his hold, his eyes burned with a deep seated rage.
But his heartbeat had been racing.
And I hadn’t missed the way he’d smelled my hair.
