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“Nope,” I lie again. Then, I decide to amend it with some truth, “Well, some gossip, but nothing to worry about.”
“How’s Landon? Are you guys on your way home?”
“Not yet. I’m waiting by his car. I’m sure he won’t be long.”
“Okay. Text me when you’re leaving.”
“I will,” I assure her.
Just then, I’m startled by a leg brushing so close to me, it nearly touches my shoulder. I look over and recognize Landon’s shoes and the expensive jeans he was wearing this morning.
For a split second, I’m bowled over by the absolute strangeness of knowing what Landon is wearing today because I saw him snatch a bagel at breakfast before he left (because God forbid he sit down and enjoy the delicious food Mom made us for the first day of school).
Every other first day of school, keeping my eyes peeled for Landon has been one of the items on my to-do list. I avoid him, of course, but I need to know where he is (and if anything changed over the summer) in ordertoeffectively avoid him.
My gaze skates up his muscular body until I’m meeting his cool green-eyed gaze.
He smirks, standing there looking down at me for a few seconds. “I like when you know your place.”
Dull annoyance pours through my veins, but I don’t let him get a rise out of me. That was a cheap shot for such a rich boy, and it doesn’t deserve the reaction he wants.
Biting back the impulse to ask if that’s the best he can do, I roll my eyes and grab my bag, standing so I can walk around to the passenger side.
I stop short when I see Brittany Benson already waiting on that side of the car.
My brow furrows as Landon puts down the roof to turn his car into a convertible, then slides in behind the wheel. Brittany hops in the passenger side with unmasked zeal, and my eyes widen with indignation.
“What are you doing?” I ask, glancing from her to him. “You’re supposed to be my ride home.”
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, feigning regret. “Got a better offer. Sorry.”
Is he serious?
Brittany rifles through her purse to avoid looking at me, and I stare, dead-eyed, at Landon as the asshole fires up his noisy-ass car and backs out of his “reserved for spoiled rich boys” parking spot.
He’s seriously going to leave me stranded here.
And he knows I’m not going to go home and tell our parents that it’s day one of a new school year and he’s already being an asshole. I can see it in the smirk on his stupid face, the glint of pleasure dancing in his dark green eyes.
“You’re an asshole,” I mouth, since his car is too loud for him to hear me, anyway.
His smirk grows as he thrusts the gearshift back into drive, then gives me a little mocking wave.
He isthe worst.
My full backpack hangs heavily at my side. Landon hits the accelerator hard just to be an asshole so his car roars as he takes off toward the exit. “See you at home,” he calls back.
Well, that’s just fucking great.
Sighing, I swipe my phone screen and text Hannah. “Have you left school yet?”
She doesn’t answer right away, so I look around the parking lot to see if I can spot her car. It’s usually pretty easy to find. She has a pumpkin-orange Volkswagen Beetle, definitely the only one on the lot.
I see it a few rows back, so I walk over just in case she doesn’t check her messages before she leaves.
She looks exhausted when I spot her on her way to the car. Hannah is usually up with the birds so she can start on her chores before school starts, so I imagine she is.
“Hey,” she says softly.
