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I sigh, finally bringing myself to answer. “It’s kind of crazy, but I still haven’t heard anything.”
The muscles in my body hurt. Too tight for comfort.
Sitting with my friend should relax me, but I can’t help the tension in my back. It’s been there for the past couple of months. I’m a hot mess of distress. A punchline for a bad joke.
I walk around looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to approach.
I’m so uptight it’s like I’m a piece of glass, bound to smash to the floor, shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
“Then what’s the problem?” Heather nudges my shoulder. “That’s a good thing, right? Why the scowl on your face?”
Lifting my hands to my eyes, I scrub away the exhaustion. “That’s the problem,” I admit, lowering my arms back down in my lap.
“That you haven’t heard?”
I nod.
“That has to be a good thing. If something were to go down, it would have already, right?”
My teeth lower, biting my lip. “No. It’s not a good thing. The longer I wait for his next move, the sicker I get over it. I feel like someone is fucking with me. Or at least, I can’t be too sure it’s not the case.”
“Maybe there is no next move. Maybe he’ll let you live your life. Maybe he’ll respect his father’s wishes.”
I roll my eyes at her comment. If only it were that simple. “You didn’t see the look in his eyes. The malice and hatred. This isn’t over. If anything, this is part of the game.”
“How so?”
“He’s making me squirm. He’s basically an angry lion, playing with his food. He might not have killed me yet, but eventually, he’ll pounce.”
“That sounds oddly sexual. And he is smoking hot.” She smirks.
“What? Stop. How do you even know that?”
“How does anyone know anything in this modern age? I googled him, Payton. Duh.” Heather rolls her eyes as if I should’ve assumed she’d google him. “You really thought that wasn’t the first thing I did?”
“You never mentioned it.”
“Ronald just died. I thought it would be insensitive to mention his son is hot as fuck!”
“Shh. Can you be any louder?”
I look around the room, but it is still relatively empty, and no one appears to be paying attention to us anyway. I shake my head.
“Plus, he’s not that hot,” I say lamely.
I’m not fooling her. Not with how warm my cheeks feel. Like he’s grazed a red-hot poker against my skin, ready to brand.
“Yes, he is, and even your frigid ass knows it, honey.”
Her voice is way too loud this time, and the student sitting next to her giggles. Sam. I hate Sam right now.
“Can you shut up? Someone will hear you.”
Sam is actually playing on her cell. That’s why she is laughing, not because of me. No one is listening. No one cares.
“Oh, shut it. Look at this man,” she chides as she unlocks the home screen of her cell and starts to google Trent. When his picture is on the screen, she flashes it at me. She’s like a dog with a bone when she wants info, and she won’t give up asking until I give it to her.
“Fine.”
