Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
Presley
N eil was out of my Jeep the second I put it in park, the door slamming shut before I even cut the engine. He hadn’t spoken to me in nearly a week, and the silence was getting under my skin. Each day, he’d sit in his seat, his face lit by the morning sun as he stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge me. The tension between us was sharp enough to cut, but I had bigger problems to deal with.
I grabbed my phone from the holder, swiping the screen and rereading Evan's message that had dropped in while I was texting Hudson.
We need to talk, and don’t say no.
The accompanying picture clenched my stomach. I should have known better than to think I’d get away with it. Still, I knew something he didn’t—or maybe he knew, too. I typed a reply, fingers tight against the screen.
I’m here. Where do you want to talk?
Weight room. It’s empty. And bring me a cup of coffee. You know what I like.
I clenched my jaw, forcing down an exasperated breath as I headed into the building. After grabbing his coffee, I made my way to the weight room. Evan was there, perched on a bench, arms crossed over his chest, his brows pinched, and his lips twisted into a scowl.
“I hope you put enough sugar in it,” he growled, extending his hand. “Give it here.”
I held my ground, steadying myself as I handed him the coffee. He took a slow sip, his gaze locked on mine. The room was silent, save for his slurping and the steady thud of my pulse. He tapped something on his phone, and mine buzzed immediately.
“Evan…” I began, an uneasy feeling snaking up my spine.
He held up a hand, a smug grin spreading across his face. “You might want to check that.”
I glanced down. His text waited, a series of photos—me and Hudson in Evan’s room, rifling through his things until we’d heard the unmistakable footsteps of his mom and her lover. My breath hitched. I knew Evan well enough to recognize he was setting me up, making me sweat before delivering whatever twisted judgment he had in store. I forced myself to look him in the eye.
“What do you want?”
He smirked, his gaze sliding over me. “You. I want you back. I want more than a taste of that sweet mouth. Neil told me you’ve been giving it to Hudson. Well, now it’s my turn.”
My grip tightened on my backpack, knuckles white. “Go to hell. That’s never going to happen.”
He rose from the bench, his movement fast and sharp. Before I could back away, his hand shot out, grabbing my sweater and yanking me toward him. My body slammed into his chest, his arm wrapping around me like a vise. I twisted, but his grip held, his strength an unbreakable wall.
Evan placed his coffee on the bench beside him, his free hand slipping lower until his fingers gripped my waist. “Oh, there’s a way. I’ve got photos of you committing a little breaking and entering, remember? Now, what were you doing in my house, Presley?”
I swallowed, my voice barely a whisper. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he hissed, his eyes narrowing. “Why were you there?”
I glared up at him, my anger sparking. “Because you hurt my brother. You got him drunk and dumped him like trash—all to get back at me.”
He laughed, the sound low and mocking, his fingers digging into my waist. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important to me.”
I struggled against him, my voice rising. “Then why do you even want me back?”
His gaze hardened, his grip unyielding. “Because I want what he has—what he stole from me. I was this close, and then you messed it up. Hudson was just the scapegoat. Now, he’s going to pay for it.”
I pushed at his chest, but he only tightened his hold. “It was your fault, not his. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t treated me like I owed you something.”
Evan’s expression softened, just for a moment, loosening his hold. “You hurt me, Presley. You cut me off without a word.”
I sighed, feeling a pang of guilt despite myself. “I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t listen. And what about Reagan? Aren’t you with her now?”
His lips twisted into a cold smile. “She’s a good time, that’s all. Can’t help it if she’s delusional.”
The sting of Reagan’s betrayal dulled now, knowing he’d only used her to get back at me. But I also felt sorry for her—she’d been my friend once.
“I’m with Hudson now,” I said, voice steady.
Evan’s grip tightened again, fingers pressing hard into my waist. “Not if you want him to stay out of prison. You think breaking into my house is going to slide? He’s on thin ice already with that assault charge. One wrong move, and he’s locked up.”
I gasped, barely able to breathe. “How… how do you even know that?”
His fingers dug deeper, a malicious glint in his eye. “Doesn’t matter how I know. It’s true. He goes down, and you’re next.”
I twisted, managing to jab my elbow into his ribs. He grunted, loosening his hold just enough for me to slip free. I backed up, my chest tight, trying to keep distance between us.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice broke despite me.
He smirked, lifting his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. “You know exactly why. Now, make your choice.”
“You’re sick,” I whispered, taking another step back.
Evan followed, his expression twisted with dark satisfaction. I hit the wall, his frame looming over me, trapping me. “Oh, I’m more than that. You play by my rules, or I’ll make sure both you and Hudson pay. And remember, there’s a statute of limitations on your little crime.”
He stepped back, smug, reaching for his coffee on the bench. He took a slow, deliberate sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, fists clenched.
“Oh, you know.” He looked down at me, his voice cold and mocking. “Break up with me, and I’ll make the calls. Good luck getting into college with a record. I hear the grocery store’s always hiring.”
“You’re a piece of shit!”
He tossed the empty cup in the trash, pushing open the door. He paused just long enough to flash me a wry smile.
“See you at lunch. Don’t keep me waiting, or you’ll regret it.”
The nausea was relentless, gnawing at me through each class leading up to lunch. The thought of falling back into Evan’s clutches was enough to make me want to sprint to the nurse’s office, tell her I had some sudden, vicious stomach virus. But after being suspended, my mom wouldn’t tolerate another absence—especially not for “sickness.”
I moved through the halls like a ghost, my steps barely registering, my mind in a fog. When I finally made it to the bathroom, I pushed the door open and let it swing shut behind me, desperate for just one quiet moment to catch my breath.
“Presley?” Reagan’s voice sliced through my haze.
I ducked into the last stall, closing the door and sitting on the seat, gripping my knees. Her boots tapped closer, stopping just outside my stall.
“Pres? What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.
I sucked in a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Nothing.”
The silence held for a second, and then I heard her bag drop to the floor with a dull thud. Slowly, I emerged from the stall, catching her reflection in the mirror as she applied a fresh layer of gloss, running her tongue over her lips before tossing the tube into her purse. I looked at myself beside her, pale and drawn, my eyes almost lifeless.
Reagan nudged me with her elbow, forcing a small smile. “Are we having lunch together?”
I hesitated, my mind racing through the excuse I’d rehearsed all morning. Evan and I had broken up in a mess that people had gossiped about for days. But now…now he had his claws in me again, and I knew exactly why. But I couldn’t tell her that.
I put a hand on her shoulder, forcing myself to speak. “Actually, I’m...sitting with Evan today.”
Reagan’s face froze, her lips parting as she absorbed my words. “What?”
My stomach twisted. “We’re...we’re back together.”
The color drained from her face as she stumbled back, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Bullshit! What about Hudson?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came. There was nothing I could say to make this right. “I... I’m sorry.”
Her bottom lip quivered as she gripped the strap of her backpack. “What about him? You guys were happy.”
“I...we broke up,” I lied, the words like sandpaper against my throat.
Her eyes narrowed, anger and hurt warring across her face. “You knew how I felt about Evan, Presley. I was in love with him. We were just starting something, and now you’re back with him?”
“No, I didn’t know,” I protested, my voice breaking. I wanted to reach out, to hold onto something that could ground me, but she pushed me away.
“Don’t lie to me.” She took a step back, her voice dripping with bitterness. “You have everything. And you knew I loved him.”
Her words hit me like a slap, and I stared as she slung her backpack over her shoulder, her eyes shimmering with betrayal.
“Reagan, please,” I whispered, my own voice cracking. “It’s not what you think?—”
But she was already turning her back to me, striding toward the door.
“Goodbye, Presley. Have a great lunch with Evan,” she tossed over her shoulder, the hurt in her voice stinging sharper than anything he could have said.