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I don’t like that he’s here in my territory. Being in his presence leaves me uneasy and I don’t understand why. It’s not just anger either. There’s a weird tension that grows between us any time we’re close to each other and I don’t get it. Maybe he’s just my enemy and my body recognizes when he’s near. I don’t know.
“From what my dad just told me, you’re pretty reckless. You don’t think before you speak,” I explain.
His smile is faint and I hate how my heart seems to trip over itself when I see it. He shouldn’t affect me. Not like that. “That’s been a constant issue for me since I started here. Pretty much my entire life, actually.”
“Well, now your issue has become mine and I’ve been suspended for two days, so thanks for ruining my life.” I offer him a sugary sweet smile and resume my task, grabbing at a perfectly good rose and clipping the stem with extra force, realizing my mistake too late. This is what I get for being too dramatic.
Guess I’ll take that one inside and put it in a vase with some water and enjoy it before it dies.
I know people love to fill their homes with real flowers and enjoy receiving them as gifts, but I prefer my roses to stay in the ground and live for as long as possible. Where they show off their beauty and put a smile on my face every time I go outside.
I’d probably be sad if a boy brought me flowers, though I’d try my best to never let him know. But those flowers?
They’re only going to die anyway. And I don’t like it when things die.
Or people.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” Arch says, his voice soft.
“Right. Cruel words just fly out of your mouth without warning. Noted.” I nod, turning my back to him and concentrating as hard as possible on the rose bush in front of me. The roses are this peachy-orange color that were my mother’s favorite color. She said it was sunshiny and bright, like me.
More tears threaten and I muster all the strength I’ve got to fight them off. I refuse to cry in front of Arch. And he’s still there. I can feel him standing on the edge of the garden, watching me. Probably wondering why I’m not reacting to what he says. He deserves to be kneed in the balls.
“Why do you hate me so much?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice. When I look at his face, I see the confusion in his gaze too. He doesn’t get it.
He probably never will.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because all you have to do is exist and everything is handed to you? I bet you’ve never had to work for a single thing in your life. You say awful things and you don’t even get in trouble for it. I’m the one who’s being punished.” For slapping him, but after what he said and what I’ve been through, I think my reaction was justified. “You’re not a nice person, Arch. Not even close.”
“Everyone loves me—”
I interrupt him. “Everyone is scared to cross you. Or they’re kissing up to you to stay on your good side. Big difference.” I glare at him for a moment and all he can do is stare back, his eyes wide. Like I just shocked him with the truth.
Good. Maybe he needed to hear it.
Ignoring him, I return my attention to the roses, my hair streaming across my face when the breeze kicks up. I bat it away, the bucket dropping from my hand and landing on its side, all of the old, dead roses rolling out, their petals scattering everywhere.
“I’m going to talk to Matthews again,” Arch finally says, raising his voice to be heard above the wind, which kicks up another notch. The pine trees that surround our cottage sway, creating a white noise that I love to listen to when I’m trying to fall asleep and I keep my bedroom window open. “Be prepared to come back to class tomorrow, Daze.”
My skin prickles with awareness at hearing him call me that. I don’t like the nickname. Makes it seem like we’re friends when we are absolutely nothing like that.
I know one thing for certain.
Arch Lancaster and I will never be friends.
SEVEN
ARCH
I’m waiting outside of Matthews’office first thing Wednesday morning, ready to plead Daisy’s case again. I pushed her too far and I know it, and damn if she didn’t get to me yesterday afternoon, clipping roses in her dad’s garden and looking pitiful as fuck. Her face was pale and her eyes were swollen, like she’d been crying nonstop since second period, which she probably had.
Seeing her like that made me feel bad—and renewed my intentions. I refuse to let this girl remain suspended for another day. I basically asked for that slap. I provoked her into violence and I’m more than willing to own it. Couldn’t even tell anyone why I did that. Something about her sets me on fire, and not always in a good way. It’s annoying, how she doesn’t seem to like me. And then what do I do?
Push her limits and make her hate me even more.
God, I’m stupid sometimes.
But ultimately, I’m a fucking Lancaster and I know I can convince Matthews to revoke the suspension or whatever he has to do to get it off her record. He adores Daisy. Thinks the sun rises and sets on her pretty blonde head. He doesn’t want his favorite student to be among the degenerates of the school, which she sort of is right now.
