Chapter 7
Declan, Present
Landon is supposed to be back today. He’s been absent for a few days now, and because he’s become a friend sort of thing for me—the only one I have—I’m actually looking forward to seeing him.
Grant keeps fucking with him. In fact, the last time he was here, Grant tried to fight him in the hallway like a crazy asshole.
I swear, for how much Grant is trying to be the manliest, cockiest guy around, he sure is dramatic as fuck.
Although my opinion of him is heavily influenced by the fact that he’s Javi’s best friend.
Not the way Javi and I used to be friends, but still.
I enter through the cafeteria in the back of the school and immediately it feels like everyone is a little… I don’t know… jumpy. They’re all looking around, kind of on the edge of laughing or freaking the fuck out.
I shrug to myself. Put a bunch of male teenagers in the same building and they’re bound to get weird.
I make it to the front of the cafeteria and am about to walk down the hall toward my first period when my eyes catch on a huge banner hanging up on the far wall.
There’s a small crowd around it. All of them murmuring, some with their phones out taking pictures of it.
It’s a mugshot of a woman. I’ve never seen her before, but she looks like she’s had a long night. At the bottom, there’s her name and charges.
Name: Cassie Moore
Fuck. Landon Moore. That must be his mom.
Anger starts bubbling right under the surface of my skin.
See? This right here is why I don’t like people. This is why I won’t ever make the mistake of completely letting anyone in. Not again.
I push my way through the gawkers and start jumping, trying to reach the banner so I can pull it down. I’m so much fucking shorter than all of them. They could easily reach it. But no one moves. They start laughing a bit, now taking pictures and videos of me.
“You’re all a bunch of assholes,” I mutter to them as I keep jumping—trying and failing to grasp it.
Mrs. Peters, the school secretary, joins me, bustling over to try and reach for it, but she’s even shorter than me so it doesn’t help at all.
Everything goes very quiet. It gives me pause, so I stop jumping to look around.
When I turn, my eyes land on Landon, staring up at it.
I can see his brain processing everything as his eyes scan the banner. Then his eyes somehow immediately find Grant, Landon’s head aggressively snapping in his direction. Grant stands with his group of dumbass friends—Javi included.
I stare right at Javi. His eyes flick to mine, a blank stare on his face. No trace of remorse, though, and I’m sure he had something to do with this. How could he not?
Landon rips his backpack off and throws it to the ground.
“Oh, shit,” I say as he runs at Grant, tackling him to the ground. Landon starts wildly swinging at Grant’s face, beating the shit out of him.
I run over, pushing my way through the crowd that has shifted to their fight. As I get on my knees next to Landon, I can hear him muttering something to Grant, but I can’t quite make out what it is.
He stops punching and switches to choking him, while Grant just lays there—not fighting back at all.
I grab onto one of Landon’s arms, trying to pull him off of Grant, but who am I kidding? Landon is a big-ass football player. I can’t do shit.
Javi kneels on the other side of him, not looking at me as he grasps Landon’s other arm and tries to pry him off. And fuck, Javi’s bigger than him and even he’s struggling to get him to stop.
“Landon, let go, man,” Javi says as he pulls at his body again, but Landon must have superhuman strength fueled by his hatred for Grant, because he barely budges.
I glare at Javi. Fuck him for trying to fix this after he probably had a lot to do with it starting.
I lean in close to Landon’s ear. “Landon, you have to let go. He won’t get in trouble—you will.”
That does the trick. He scrambles off of Grant and stands. Javi and I quickly do the same right as Dean Nelson breaks his way through the people, staring at Grant’s panting body on the floor. “Mr. Caldwell, why are you on the floor? Are you alright? Wait, are you bleeding?”
Grant mutters a quick “I’m fine” and gets up, disappearing into the crowd.
Dean Nelson and Mrs. Peters start shooing everyone away and usher Landon toward the front office.
I’m left standing there with Javi. He finally looks at me. Adrenaline pumps in my blood. My heart is still beating an unsteady, quick rhythm from all the drama. The anger from before returns to my system while I stare into his brown eyes.
“This is low—even for you,” I say. That was honestly not my best work. But I can’t think of anything smarter to say. I feel blinded by resentment. That he does all this dumb shit. That he’s just like them. Despite what I thought.
He narrows his eyes a bit but doesn’t say anything before I turn and head to my first period.
I walk quickly, rage influencing each step I take toward my destination.
I’m sure jack shit will happen to Grant. His uncle is a big donor to the school—he can basically do whatever he wants and get away with it. The whole football team is like that, but Grant in particular is invincible.
I’m about to open the classroom door, but I find that I can’t make myself walk in. Not right now, anyway. So I veer left, turning down a small hallway that leads to the restroom, so I can collect myself or something.
The bell rings, so thankfully the hall is deserted as I push into the restroom.
It closes softly behind me, but only a few moments later, it’s wrenched open again. A hand harshly grips my shoulder and spins me around.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
The sound of his voice, which is usually smooth and buttery, scratches the air around us. His curls are a little frizzy on top, like he’s been grabbing at them.
My anger spikes again. “Late much?” I say as snidely as possible. “I said that like five fucking minutes ago.”
I punctuate my statement with a roll of my eyes. I see something flash in his. He didn’t like that.
His arm darts out, grabbing onto my jaw, squeezing it in his rough fingers.
Something else spikes. Low and warm in the pit of my stomach.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Do not get a hard-on for this motherfucker.
I use all my might to try and keep my dick soft, but I can still feel it thickening behind my uniform khakis.
“I’m not fucking around with you,” he growls, taking a tiny step closer to me.
He pauses, waiting for me to say some slick shit back, but I stay quiet, so he continues. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“Bullshit,” I spit back at him.
He growls again, but it’s more animalistic, like you’d think a rabid dog was really here with us.
A whimper involuntarily escapes my lips when he squeezes my face harder. The sound does something to him. I stare into his eyes, watching as the pupils grow.
“I didn’t do it,” he replies, less venom in his words
“But I’m sure you knew. And you didn’t do shit to stop it.”
He’s silent.
“See?” I sneer the word.
I watch the cogs work in his brain, and before he even opens his mouth, I know he’s about to decimate me.
His lips stretch into his half-smile. The one I used to love.
But now, the movement is slow and malicious, making me feel helpless, like a lamb being watched by a wolf.
“Why do you care so much, munequito? Did you let Landon hit it too?”
Even though I knew he was going to say something hurtful, my eyes still widen, and my dick dies a swift death in my pants.
I shove at his chest. It must surprise him, because despite how much bigger he is than me, his fingers slip from my face and he stumbles back a few steps.
“I fucking hate you.” I say it on a laugh. Anything to not cry in front of him.
His face is blank again, but I don’t wait to hear anything else, walking past him and pushing my way out of the door.