Lethal

Chapter 12

Twelve

Hayden

The seat beneath me is cold, unwelcoming. Kind of like me lately.

I sit back in my chair listening to the teacher giving the class, but since seeing Olivia more and more, I can’t think about anything else but her. And I hate myself for it. I shouldn't be thinking about her, wondering if she still likes cupcakes. Fucking hell, I hate myself at the moment.

The professor’s voice is becoming white noise to me now. It’s like someone hit mute on the world, and all I can see is her, Olivia Banks.

I’m trying to convince myself I don’t care. I’m not sure how many times I can keep telling myself she’s the reason for my hell.

I shouldn’t still notice everything about her, like I always did. Since the first day I saw her I noticed things about her. Like the other day, the way her hands shook when I wrapped her necklace around Jen’s throat. The way she curled inward like a fucking kicked dog.

But I did. I saw everything.

And instead of looking away like a decent human being might— I stared. I watched. I hurt her. And not because it felt good. But because it’s the only thing I know how to do with all this venom that’s been inside me since that night.

The night she ruined everything we had. The night I knew our friendship meant nothing to her. The night she picked Leo over me.

I close my eyes and lean back, the chair creaking beneath my weight. But I quickly open my eyes, the moment I feel her. She’s fucking everywhere. She’s always there, laughing under the treehouse, reading some book about wizards and cupcakes and love that always ends with a happily ever after.

I laughed at her for reading all those romance books, but she believed in happily ever after, and the more she spoke about it, the more I started to believe it.

Now?

Now I believe in punishment. In pain. And I’ve got five months left to remind her what heartbreak really feels like.

17 years old

“What are you reading today?” I ask as I sit next to her. Hockey practice seemed to have gone on forever today. It was non-stop, the coach wanted us to die today I think.

“A mafia romance.” She looks up at me with a smile. The other day she was reading the same thing, how many books can you write about mafia romance. “He does so many sweet things for her.”

I lean in closer to have a look if I can see what she is reading. “Like what?” I take the book from her and start reading.

“He didn’t like someone looking at her, so he beat them up, and that’s only the start.” I glance over to her as she digs through her bag, I read the page and laugh to myself. “Mom made you some cookies.” She hands me the box, and I return her book as I take it from her.

Cookies beat the romance shit she’s reading.

“Tell Mrs. B thanks.” I open the box and take a few of them out. “You got work tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yeah, why?” She looks out at Mason and Miles about to start a fist fight which makes me laugh.

“No reason thought we could hang out.” She turns to face me, but I continue to watch my brothers fighting. I know things are changing when it comes to Olivia, I want to spend every second I can with her. But she’s never made the move or given me any sign she wants more from me than just friendship.

I can’t risk making a move in case she doesn't want it, then we will be in this weird phase, and sooner or later we’ll stop talking. That’s the last thing I want.

“I can come after if my dad can drop me off—”

“I’ll pick you up, we can go for dinner.” I finally turn to face her with a smile. “Where do you want to eat?” I ask.

“You pick, surprise me. You know what I like, I don’t think you’d pick something I hate.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Who would win out of them two?” She points at Mason and Miles fighting, and I have to laugh at her question.

“Mason, easily. He’s already in the gym building his body, while Miles spends all his time in front of the computer. He'll learn to fight, but Mason will be the one who will win.” I take a deep breath taking in her flowery scent. She's wearing the perfume I got her.

Maybe this can be something.

Present Time

“Hayden.”

I blink. Mason’s voice cuts through my spiral. I glance over and he’s leaning across the table; his expression pinched with irritation.

“You good?” he asks me, and I look around to see everyone has left the room. “You’ve been stabbing holes through your notebook for the last fifteen minutes. Class is over.”

“Fine,” I grunt, sliding the notebook into my backpack.

“Your version of fine usually ends with a bloody nose and a meeting with the head.” Mason raises an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not about to deck someone?”

I snort, rising from the desk. “No promises.”

“Hayden—”

“I’m good,” I bite out, shouldering my bag.

I’m not. I know Mason and Miles know I’m not.

I can feel the scrutiny in his eyes as I push through the door and step into the hallway, the world is louder and too bright now.

People brush past me, laughing and chatting, and girls throwing glances my way.

Normally I’d flash a grin, give them something to think about.

We're never short on attention from the girls, but not today.

Not when she’s probably in one of these rooms, or walking down the same damn hallway, or breathing the same fucking air and pretending like she didn’t betray me.

“Hayden!”

I flinch before the voice registers.

Jen.

I stop walking, my jaw tightening as her heels click fast against the tile. She’s wearing something tight, black, and a top which is showing more than it needs to. She always does.

But Jen isn’t forgettable. She’s calculated. She’s a distraction.

And the worst part is— she works.

“Where are you going?” she asks, looping her arm through mine like we’ve done this a thousand times. We haven’t. But I let her, because it’s easier than pulling away.

“Lunch.”

“With who?”

“My brothers.” I look around, and I hate to admit it, but I’m looking for Olivia. I’m an idiot.

She pouts, tugging me toward the courtyard. “You promised me coffee today.”

“I didn’t promise anything.”

She stops then, turning to face me, her eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” Her voice is hard, and annoyed.

“Thinking about who?” I know I’m playing stupid, but Jen is smart, she knows the truth. But no one in this school knows the history between us, nor why I hate Leo so much.

“Don’t play dumb. You know who.”

I pull away from her, annoyed now. “Jen, drop it.”

“For someone you hate, you think about her a lot,” she says, her voice rising just enough to earn a few curious looks from students passing us. “You think no one sees it? You barely even see me when I’m with you. I’m a body, a placeholder, someone to push your anger into—”

“Then stop coming back,” I snap. Silence stretches between us.

She flinches but doesn’t move. I think this is the first time I’ve raised my voice at her, but she also knows she’s nothing special to me.

She’s someone to have fun with at school, nothing more, and it never will be.

“Why do you even care?” I add, my voice low.

“You knew what this was from the start.”

Her chin trembles for a split second before she locks it down. “I didn’t think I’d be competing with her. Other girls, yes, but someone you say you hate, no.”

I shove my hands in my pockets and walk away with my brothers, because if I stay, I’ll say something worse, and I don’t want that. Especially because Olivia isn’t a ghost, she never was, she was just the girl who broke me in more ways than I can ever say.

I can’t kill her memory if she keeps walking these halls like she owns the right to exist in my world.

I pull out my phone as I head toward the outside eating area with the group. The burn of the sun on my neck is hitting hard today, and I hear Mason talking about the girl he might try his luck with next. I swear he slept with most of the girls in his year.

“You know you’re going to fuck your way through school,” Miles jokes with him, but it makes me laugh. “Have you touched all the teachers yet?”

We sit down at one of the free tables, and the first thing I do is scan the grounds to see if I see her. Why? God knows.

“Most of the teachers are old or married. I’ll wait for a young single one to come,” Mason replies, and pats my back. “What about you, you found a girl for yourself?” I turn to face my brothers, and they both see it on my face. “H, she fucked up and not in a small way. But—”

“But nothing.” I cut him off before he can even finish the sentence, there's no way I can forgive her for what she did.

But I’m scanning the grounds again like a fucking psychopath. Hoping to get another glimpse of her. I don’t see her. Not near Abigail. Not near the law building. Not in the café she usually ducks into to avoid attention.

It’s starting to piss me off. I don’t want to care where she is. I shouldn’t give a fuck. But every second she’s not where I expect her to be makes me itch under my skin like I’ve got something crawling through me.

Mason’s still talking, running his mouth about someone he hooked up with, and Miles is arguing with him about the ethics of ignoring a text after sex.

Normal. Casual. Loud. And all I want to do is punch something.

I wonder if I can ask Cain to give me a hit, just so I can get the thrill of killing someone.

I walk away from the table not saying a word to Mason or Miles as I let them continue with their stupid conversation. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I move to the back of the business hall, where it’s quiet. Away from everything.

Then I see it. Her car. That beat-up thing that probably shouldn’t even be allowed on the road. It’s parked under the tree line, tucked into the far corner of the lot like she’s trying to disappear.

I walk over without thinking, I don’t even know what I’m planning to do until I knock on the window.

A part of me doesn’t blame her, I mean Leo is here, and from what Cain told me about her shift he was trying to talk to her, but she wanted nothing to do with it. Then there's me. The man she thought was her friend but now hates her the most.

She’s got a paper bag on the passenger seat, and her eyes are locked on a book, one hand holding the pages back, the other lazily pulling fries from the bag. She’s completely unaware of anything around her. Completely Olivia.

She always does this. Hides herself in books like the world doesn’t exist. She always had a book in her hand, and it looks like nothing has changed.

And I fucking hate that it still does something to me. The memories of us together.

She jumps, her book slips from her hand and lands between the seats. She doesn't do anything but tries to pick her book back up, but she’s finding it hard to stop her hands from shaking.

I tap the window again, telling her to roll it down, and she stares at me for a moment, then rolls it down.

As the window goes down, I reach my hand in and grab the book in her hand. “You’re still reading this shit?” I hold the cover up, it has some guy on the front of it, and I read the back. A romance book. Of course it is.

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. Her breathing is tight, but she doesn’t look scared, just, tense.

I take the moment to look at her, really look at her. She’s still the same girl, still looks beautiful, still smells of the perfume I got her. She’s the same. My eyes move to the necklace.

She’s wearing it. My necklace. The one I gave her on her sixteenth birthday, the one I ripped off her a few days ago.

I lick my lips and tilt my head as I bring my hand to her neck, and she quickly moves away from me, grabbing the necklace so I can’t remove it from her.

“Where did you get it from?” I ask, there's no way Jen would give it to her, because she can be a bitch when she wants to be, so I know she didn’t give it to her.

Olivia holds on tight to the necklace, scared I’ll take it from her again, and to piss her off I would, but the look in her eyes, the worry, the fear in them is something I’ve never seen before from her.

The last time I saw a little fear in her eyes was when her mom was taken to hospital, and she had a panic attack.

“Where did you get it from?” I ask again, making sure she’s heard me.

“Ab—Abigail got it back for me.”

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” I mutter, dropping the book on the dash and lean back. She touches the chain, her fingers brushing the charms like she’s trying to protect them from me.

“You took it,” she says softly. Her voice... goddammit, that voice. It still sounds like every memory I ever loved, she talked so much all the time, and she always joked she'd stop if I told her too, but I loved listening to her ramble about things I didn’t care about.

“I didn’t think you’d want it back after I gave it to someone else,” I bite out, she should know I took it off her for a reason, she should know I don’t think she deserves it.

“I never stopped wearing it,” she says, taking the book from the dash, not looking at me. “Even after—”

“Don’t!” I shout. She has no right to say anything about that time. No fucking right.

Silence.

I should walk away, but instead, I stay there, staring at her while she avoids my eyes. The smell of fries, old car air freshener, and her perfume—Dior J’adore, fills the space between us.

No matter what happened between us, she’s still trying to keep that part of our life together. The good part, even though she fucked it up.

“Enjoy your book,” I finally mutter, and walk away. I don’t look back. Not once.

But the image of her fingers clutching the necklace I gave her, hits me.

Why am I so fucking stupid to care about what she is doing?