8. Gio
GIO
“And so being young
and dipped in folly
I fell in love
with melancholy.”
A yawn stretches my mouth wide open, earning a sharp glare from Mrs. Foster, the English teacher, as she recites the poem again.
She turns her attention to the rest of the class and imparts her seemingly bright wisdom.
As if the rest of us give a shit about some old fart that couldn’t get laid in life and is just as pathetic in death.
Something pokes at my back and I turn, glancing over my shoulder before a scowl replaces my earlier yawn. “Piss off, Megan,” I snap. “And choose a different seat tomorrow. You don’t get to sit near me.” I return my attention back to the front of class.
“Oh yeah?” Megan’s foul voice fills my ears as I sense her leaning forward. “Then I guess you don’t want to hear what everyone is saying about your new fuck toy?”
Anger tenses my muscles and slowly, I turn back to face her. “If you’ve got something to say,” I say coldly. “Then I suggest you say it to her face. I’d love to watch Juliet beat your ass any day.”
I might not allow myself to hit a woman, but that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy Juliet laying the smack down on Meg for running her mouth. I’ve had my fair share of regret fucks in the past, but none so much as this girl. A pair of decent tits and a tight mouth aren’t worth the headache.
“Word is she won’t be around to even challenge me soon.”
I arch a brow. “If you believe that then you’re about as dumb as you are a poor fuck,” I say, then I lean forward, grinning as her face reddens. “Which, in case it wasn’t obvious by my lack of interest for your saggy-ass tits, is pretty fucking stupid.”
She stabs at me with her pen, the thing she’d been poking me with. I laugh and snatch it from her hand. “Mr. Vargas!” Mrs. Foster yells my name, but I don’t turn around as I hold the pen up in front of Meg’s face and let my fist tighten until it cracks and breaks in half.
Opening my fingers, one by one, the mechanical pieces rain down atop her open textbook. Megan glares back at me, her upper lip curled away from her teeth.
“Go on,” I issue the challenge without remorse. “ Test us. You’ve already overstayed your fucking welcome with me. I assure you if you try to go after the only Scorpion Girl to ever be, you’ll be in for a world of pain.”
Her jaw drops, as do several onlookers’. The sound of Mrs. Foster’s furious footsteps stomps up the aisle of desks, getting closer and closer. I don’t bother to offer her a look as she comes, heaving and practically spitting fire out of her mouth at the edge of my seat.
Instead, I turn my attention to the others in class and raise my voice.
“Yeah,” I snap. “You heard it right—Juliet Donovan is a Scorpion Girl. You want to fuck with her, then you fuck with the rest of us.” A cruel smile plays across my lips and more than a few students hurriedly face their heads forward to avoid my perusal. How very studious of them.
“How would you like to spend your day in ISS tomorrow, Mr. Vargas?” Mrs. Foster blusters, her cheeks practically trembling in her rage. She’s always had an issue with how her students place more importance on someone else’s words over hers—particularly one of ours.
I relax into my seat and lift both brows. “Sounds like a good time, teach,” I say. “Will you be there to give me… private lessons?”
Her gasp has a few of the guys snickering into their hands.
Spluttering, Mrs. Foster starts a sentence only to stop and try something else.
Again and again, she tries to get out a full, coherent thought and by the fifth or sixth time, I’ve lost all interest in letting her continue to humiliate herself.
Before she can manage to gather her composure, the bell for the end of school rings. No one waits for her to finish and no one sticks around as she tries to command them.
“The bell doesn’t dismiss you!” she practically shrieks. “I do!”
Rolling my eyes, I slip out of my seat and toss my bag over my shoulder. Yeah, if the bells weren’t there to dismiss us, then they wouldn’t be there. Pathetic. Mrs. Foster turns her furious gaze on me as several of those closest to the door escape before it’s too late.
“You—”
I turn, facing away from her, and let my gaze settle on Megan. “I meant what I said,” I inform her. “Try shit with Juliet and your ass will be out—not just of school, but Silverwood. Keep that in mind.”
“You can’t get me kicked out of school.” Megan bites out the words, but her lower lip quivers just the slightest bit.
I shake my head. “It’s your funeral,” is all I tell her. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Mrs. Foster continues to try and yell and command me as I skate past her and make my way into the hall. Thankfully, she doesn’t follow past the door of her classroom and soon enough I’m caught up in the throng of people heading for the parking lot or the bus loop.
I’m heading for neither, but for the separate sports building towards the back of campus.
I only hope that Coach starts us out easy because if the extra training is anything like what he demanded of us after we stuffed the opposing team’s locker room with shaving cream-filled balloons in sophomore year, it’s going to be brutal by the end.
Halfway across the open-air corridor that lines the back of the bus loop, I spot a familiar head of blue hair standing outside of the sports building pacing back and forth. I pick up speed, jogging towards her as Juliet hears my approach and looks up.
I stop short at the sight of her face and then break out into a run. Sprinting towards her, I push my legs to run faster than they ever have until I reach her.
“What’s happened?” I demand the second she’s within arm’s reach.
Juliet looks at me, eyes practically bulging from their sockets. She holds on to herself, arms crossed over her chest and nails sunk into her upper arms. There are crescent moons already pressed into the skin there where she’s obviously been doing it over and over again.
I grab her gently and pry her hands from her arms. “Prep Girl.” I lower my head until my face hovers in front of hers. “Talk to me,” I say. “What happened?”
Juliet doesn’t speak. Her lips part and she looks like she wants to, eyes a little glassy and almost begging me.
Still, nothing comes out. She’s in shock, I realize.
I’ve seen it before with my mom. The first time he’d hit her, I’d been five and she’d sat on the floor with her hand cupped to her cheek for so long I wondered if she’d ever get back up.
Even when he’d stumbled his drunk ass out of the house ranting and raving about the lack of respect in his own home, she’d sat on the floor for a long time.
Eventually, she’d managed to get up, but the wild, confused look on her face remained.
As if she didn’t understand what had just happened.
As if the world had suddenly shifted, stopped turning the right way, and now we were spinning backwards.
Cupping Juliet’s shoulders, I pull her against me. “Hey, it’s okay,” I assure her. My hand slides to the back of her neck, keeping her anchored to me. “You’re okay.”
Juliet doesn’t respond to my words right away. In the near distance, the sound of people calling out to each other reminds me we’re still somewhat public. Damn it.
Dropping my hand from her neck, I urge her backwards and reach down, snagging her bag from where it lies on the slim stretch of grass beside the sports building’s side door. Juliet shuffles but doesn’t step away from me. Instead, she burrows closer as if seeking my heat.
I quickly sling her bag over the same shoulder as mine, the two packs banging against each other, and then I reach up and press the code to the side door of the building until the door unlocks.
She wouldn’t know it—neither would most of the student body or team—but Lex made sure both Nolan and I had the codes to everything the second he’d gotten good enough at his hacking.
Even when they change it, we only ever lose a good twenty-four hours of access before we know it again.
I’m sure Coach suspects, but he’s never said a word and for that, I’m grateful.
“Come on.” Quiet. Tender. Soft. I guide her down the short hallway and into one of the storage rooms. A big container filled with various sports balls sits to the right of the doorway, but I push her past it and farther into the corner.
Windows line the opposite side of the room, letting in enough light that I leave the overhead one off in case anyone thinks to peek in here before we’re ready. Once we’re out of sight of the doorway, I drop our bags to the floor and take her back into my arms.
She must recognize that we’re in a safe place because the second I urge her into my chest, she slams herself into me and wraps her arms around my middle. Her face turns against my pecs, pressing into the center of my chest. Puffs of air blow out across my shirt and I squeeze her closer.
I don’t know if I can leave her like this—I know I can’t until she comes out of whatever panic attack she’s having, but at the very least I need to let the guys know. Shifting her around, Juliet doesn’t protest as I release one of my arms from her shoulders and reach into my back pocket.
I type out a quick text to the group chat, dropping a pin for our location to the others before tucking it back into my pants.
They’ll come. They always do, but if they’re already with Coach, then it might take a while to extract themselves.
Until then, I’ve got to get through to the woman in my arms.
Minutes pass and slowly, Juliet’s body relaxes against mine. Her breathing goes from harsh and rapid to slow and even. It’s an incredibly slow process, and it feels as if I’m not doing enough. Just holding her against my body doesn’t seem sufficient.
When she turns her cheek against my chest, rubbing her skin across the cotton of my shirt, I glance down and find her looking up at me. Relief floods me. There’s more life in her eyes now.