6. Juliet
6
JULIET
D espite my words, Roquel’s warning sits in the back of my mind like a nervous tick throughout the day. I spot her in a couple of my classes, but avoid her for the most part even when she openly tries to talk to me. It’s not that I dislike her, I appreciate the kindness she offered, but she’s at least right about one thing: I have a target on my back. Friends might help … or it might place them in the line of fire.
When the bell rings at the end of the day, the noise drills into the back of my head even though I’ve somehow been placed at the front of my final class—well away from the actual speaker system the bell is run on. Before it’s even finished ringing, I’ve started to gather my shit, stuffing books and papers into my bag before sliding out of my seat and heading for the hallway.
Footsteps sound behind me and a body shoves past one side just as I reach the door, a girl with long black hair glaring over her shoulder at me as my side hits the door frame. With a growl, I shove away only for the same thing to happen on my right side, nearly sending me to my knees this time.
“Motherf—” I cut myself off as I spin away from the doorway, not even bothering to see if the teacher is going to do anything about the obvious harassment. They’re no more my allies than the students are. A body slams into mine from the back, shoving me face-first into the locker across the hall.
“Watch where you’re standing, bitch ,” a woman’s voice hisses in my ear before retreating.
I push away from the locker and send a seething glare at her back as a tall girl with hair in a low ponytail strides off, her shoulders wider than most men’s. Several students glare at me as I shrug back my shoulders and stomp off, cutting a right out of the hallway and slamming into the parking lot.
The fastest route to the bus loop cuts through the school, but I can’t be responsible for what I’ll do if another asshole pushes me. Unfortunately, luck is not on my side. No sooner have I started to make my way around the main building, than I’m stopped by someone calling my name.
“Hey, Donovan!” Gritting my teeth, I turn back already lifting my hand to shoot whoever it is the bird. I don’t get a chance.
Something wet, cold, and slimy slams into my front—dousing my clothes in the acrid smell of sour milk and vomit. Mouth gaping open, I stare down at the front of my shirt and the chunks of white and brown now covering me. I don’t know what the substance is, but it smells like the inside of a garbage can that hasn’t been cleaned in years .
A low masculine whistle sounds nearby and I lift my gaze to settle on a pair of dark red-brown eyes. The whistler is a big man—definitely one of the football players by the width of his shoulders. With his hair shaved along the sides of his head, the high cut of his cheekbones, and a thick, square jawline, he looks half-gangster and half-runway model as he grins at me.
“What’s wrong, Prep Girl?” he asks, arching a brow with a deliberate shaved cut through it. “Not a fan of Silverwood Public greetings?”
“ Ha! ” I laugh, the sound loud and dry. First, Nolan Pierce. Now, Giovanni Vargas. All I need to complete this day is Alexio Medicci. The Scorpion Kings.
Rage pours through me. The anger so hot it burns the inside of my lungs, making me wonder if it's physically possible for a human being to actually breathe fire.
Cupping my hand and drawing it up through the mess clinging to my front, I start walking towards him. Gio Vargas sits at one of the picnic tables that surround the exterior amphitheater that I know hasn’t been used since Silverwood Prep was built. Each step brings me closer and closer to him.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t shift out of his relaxed pose—back against the table, legs outspread—a trio of others gathered around him, two girls and a guy. All of them watch me with barely repressed looks of utter hate. All except him.
Gio’s gaze remains on me as I move, but it doesn’t hold any contempt. The arched brow slowly comes down and wary curiosity is all he exudes. I smile, calling back to my days as a cheerleading captain at Silverwood Prep. Bright. All teeth. Forced exuberance. Only then, does Gio’s expression change, morphing from interest to suspicion.
“I’m a huge fan of Silverwood Public greetings,” I say cheerily as I stop a few feet from him. I haven’t moved my hand from where it rests against my stomach, holding a large portion of the foul shit that had been thrown at me. “Especially returning them.”
I open my palm and swing my arm back before letting it sail forward.
“Oh fuck!” The guy at Gio’s side dives away just as the other two girls scream bloody murder, their piercing shrieks like music to my ears. At least, it is until the clumpy gross mess slaps Gio right in the chest, staining the white band t-shirt he’s wearing with the same mess that I am.
His eyes darken and he lifts himself from the table until he’s towering over me. I tip my head back, but I don’t step away.
“Big mistake, Prep Girl,” he growls.
Lifting both hands, I raise both of my middle fingers and shove them into his face. “Oh yeah?” I drop my arms and return his glare with one of my own. “You started it.”
His gaze shifts to something over my shoulder. The anger seething in his gaze recedes some and he straightens, the fists at his sides loosening. A tingle of awareness creeps up my spine. Fuck. Me. Based on the smug expression Gio shoots at me, I know exactly who’s arrived.
Gio’s eyes meet mine once more. “You’re in for it now, Prep Girl.” He grins. “There’s no hiding anymore.”
I jerk my chin up. “I haven’t been hiding at all,” I snap. “If you have a problem with me then let’s have it out here and now.” I pause. “Or are you just gonna shove and run like everyone else?”
He snorts. “I’m not the shoving kind.” Gio’s tone is easy and relaxed now as two shadows appear on the sidewalk on either side of me. “Well, unless it’s my dick,” he continues, “then I’d like to shove my dick in your pretty?—”
“ G .” Cold. That one syllable, one letter, carries with it an extent of meaning. The tone, however, is like dumping ice over my entire body.
I turn slowly in the direction of the speaker and stiffen as if waiting for the next physical blow. Nolan Pierce stands next to Alexio Medicci with his arms crossed, glaring between the two of us. A shiver skates down my spine as Nolan’s copper-colored eyes, like blood and chocolate pouring into a long river together, focus on me.
“She fucking started it,” Gio snaps, sounding like a petulant child.
I scoff and shoot him a dark look. “I didn’t start shit, Playboy ,” I growl before showing him my teeth again. “But I can certainly finish it.”
Gio advances on me menacingly only to be called up short by Nolan’s sharp bark, “Don’t even fucking try it, G.”
The three who’d been Gio’s posse before the other Scorpion Kings showed up hover on the fringes of the group, watching with wide eyes. The guy—a tall, lanky dude with a flop of blond hair and ripped jeans—is the first to attempt to intervene.
“He’s right, Nolan,” the guy says. “She was?—”
“I did not ask for your input, Decker,” Nolan says, cutting him off.
The coward shuts his trap damn near immediately and shrinks back with the two girls. I roll my eyes, but then Nolan’s focus is squarely on me and I know it’s a dangerous place to be.
Unable to help myself, I let my gaze drift away from Nolan’s and land on the man at his side. Alexio is a tall man, taller even than his friends and just as muscular. It’s clear just by looking at the three of them why so many fear them. Where money makes the world go round on the north side of Silverwood, here in the south? Strength is king and so are these three.
Straightening my spine, I level the leader of the Scorpion Kings with a glare of my own and arch a brow. “If you’ve got something to say,” I snap, “then say it.”
“ Dumbass… ” one of the girls behind Gio mutters and I can’t help but wonder if she’s right when Nolan uncrosses his arms and moves forward. As if called by my challenge, he takes each step carefully—a predator stalking his prey.
Each second that passes makes something hot and wicked creep up my back. Alarm bells go off in my head. My breaths come faster, seizing in my chest. I don’t move though. I remain firmly planted in place, waiting.
Nolan doesn’t stop until he’s standing squarely in front of me, his big body blocking out a lot of sunlight as I’m forced to tip my head back to meet his gaze. My fingers contract, twitching into an automatic fist, preparing for an attack. But that’s not how Nolan acts. Despite all of his rough edges, the crimes he’s infamous for, there’s never been one rumor or hint that he’d hit a woman.
I’m well aware that there’s still a crowd watching us, and I’m not just talking about Gio’s posse. We’re near the student parking lot and it’s just after school. There are plenty of students still milling about, hanging out at their trunks, watching on with obvious curiosity. Goosebumps crawl up my arms. Hundreds of eyes are on us, on me. My stomach churns with acid and bile.
“No more fights,” Nolan says, his voice no less commanding for its quietness.
I blink. Then I scowl. “I didn’t start it,” I reply, “but I have no intention of sitting back and letting your people take their cheap shots.”
One corner of his mouth tilts up. “ My people?” He chuckles, the sound low and vibrating. Fuck me—why does he have to sound like that? Nolan leans down, getting up in my space more. So much so that I almost take a step back, but that would be seen as a weakness. Instead, I grit my teeth and settle the weight of my body more firmly on my heels.
“These are the people your family created with their cruelty,” he tells me. “They’re your people now too, Princess.”
A low snarl leaves my lips. “Don’t fucking call me that,” I say, but he’s already pulling away—his attention going to his friend.
Nolan jerks his chin back at Alexio, a silent command for Gio to move places. I take the opportunity for what it is—a boon. Turning away from the two of them, I begin to walk around the side of the building towards my original destination.
I don’t get more than a few feet before I hear Gio’s voice. “Ah. Ah. Ah. No, you don’t.” I freeze as the sound of heavy footsteps echoes behind me and then a wide palm lands on my shoulder, stopping me.
I don’t turn around or look back as I speak. “I highly recommend you take your hand off me before I break it.”
Instead of listening, Playboy jerks me around and glances at Nolan. “You’re really going to let her leave?” he demands, ignoring my words. “Just like that? She fucked up Meg’s face. She got into a fight on our turf. We can’t let her get away with that.”
Nolan frowns at Gio. “I don’t give two shits about your fuck buddy, G,” he says. “Megan White can handle her own fights, and if she can’t…” Those copper eyes are back on me and that frown of his shifts back up, as if he’s amused by the sight of me. All the while, I’m slowly seething at Gio’s hand still on my arm. “… then she deserves to get her ass beat.”
I tug on my arm, but Gio’s grip remains the same and he glowers down at me. My eye is starting to twitch.
“But you should take this as a warning, Princess ,” Nolan states, recapturing my attention as my upper lip curls back. The sound of him calling me ‘princess’ rings in my ears like the shrieking of an unwanted child’s temper tantrum. “You’re not in Silverwood Prep anymore.”
My body begins to tremble, the rage I’ve kept so carefully contained starting to spill over. When I open my mouth, only one word comes out. “ Hand .”
Nolan’s brows furrow. “What?”
I look pointedly at Playboy’s hand still on my arm. “Remove. Your. Fucking. Hand.”
Playboy’s eyes go from me and then back to Nolan. The hand on my arm falls away and finally, that small tingling sensation under my skin—the one that encourages me to go absolutely apeshit anytime someone tries to fucking touch me when I don’t want them to—recedes.
I lift my shoulder, trying to shake off the last of the feeling before looking Gio right in the eyes. “Your girlfriend came after me,” I state. “I told her to back off. She didn’t. If you hit someone, you should anticipate getting hit back. That’s all. No one touches me, I won’t touch them.”
“You won’t touch anyone regardless,” Nolan replies.
“This is our territory, Prep Girl,” Playboy says. “You’re the outsider.”
“Okay.” I wait a beat. “And?”
“ And ?” Playboy repeats the word with disgust, swiveling his head to look at Nolan.
Murmurs rumble through the crowd of onlookers and I switch my gaze from Nolan and Gio to the man behind them, silently watching. Alexio Medicci’s eyes watch me with a dark emotion I can’t quite name. The heat of his attention burns through me, like hellfire and dry ice.
Whipping my head back to the two nearest me, I take a breath and then carefully move myself away from them. Nolan catches the deft action and narrows his eyes on me as his hand finds Playboy’s shoulder, gripping tightly as he takes a step forward. He moves, releasing his friend and I refuse to back up again as he comes up to me—chest to chest and eye to eye. Sort of. It’s eye to eye so long as I crane my neck back and he dips his head. The guy has to be at least a good half a foot taller than me.
He leans down into my face. His lips part, but I beat him to the punch. “I know you hate me,” I say. “This whole fucking town does. If you’re planning on threatening me or telling me to drop out, then I’m sorry to say, that’s not going to happen.”
His skin twitches right below his right eye. “Is that a fact?” His tone doesn’t sound angry. Instead, it sounds half-amused and half-curious. I don’t like that at all. I am something new to their little pond. Something they don’t know how to handle quite yet. I don’t want to be a curiosity to these people. I want to be invisible and I’m doing a piss poor job of it.
“ It is .”
Slowly, oh so fucking slowly, his lips stretch into a wide smile. It’s such a contrast to the seriousness in his eyes, to the rigidness in his jaw, that it sets me on edge. “If you want to stay,” he says. “Then who am I to stop you?”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Does that mean this is done?” I ask. “You’ll leave me alone?” Please let it be that easy, I silently pray, but just like all of the other wishes I’ve made in the past several months, it’s futile.
Nolan chuckles, remaining right where he is. Face inches from mine. Shadow covering my frame, blocking out the rest of the parking lot. Red and brown swirl in his irises, daring me to come closer, to see just where the colors separate.
I don’t want to. I want nothing to do with him or his friends or anyone else in this school or town. If I had any other option—any other family—to turn to, I might’ve run the second my mom had. But I didn’t. All I have is myself to rely on and I'm not going to trust anyone else to fuck me over like the rest have.
Instead of answering me, Nolan simply continues to smile before finally leaning away. I inhale sharply, just realizing that I’d been holding my breath. He turns and starts walking back towards his friends, and Gio—sensing that this fight is over, turns and follows him—whipping his now soiled shirt over his head and tucking it into the back of his pants.
Holy… fucking hell. The rippling dips and valleys across Giovanni Vargas’ back are a masterpiece of muscle. More than one girl he passes lets out a sigh and I think I even hear one of them moan.
Nolan lifts a hand into the air as he walks, calling back to me as the three of them leave. “Welcome to the real world, Princess. We’ll be seeing you around.”
I whip around and start jogging towards the building’s side path. No one stops me this time, no one calls out, no one throws shit on me, but the lack of attention now doesn’t dim my anger.
This isn’t fucking fair. Life isn’t fair. Fuck them and their hate. The hate that I have to give back. It’s fucked up and wrong. I never did shit to these people, but still, they take it out on me.
I know this isn’t the last I’ll see of the Scorpion Kings. I’ve got a whole year trapped in this damn school with them. Graduation can’t come soon enough.