Chapter 22 Ivy
IVY
The worst part of my day is here. Seventh period.
But at least the week is over, and it’s been mostly quiet.
Even Brooke has kept to herself. Almost too much.
Her peppiness is low, and she always seems to be distracted.
Yet this morning, she fit the part of cheerleader on the exterior in her uniform, but her usual peppiness wasn’t present.
Even now as she approaches me, her rosiness is barely there as she asks, “Are you going to Willowbrook’s football game tonight? ”
“Yes. Planning to.” Only because Everett has messaged me about fifty times today asking if I was still going.
“You know we play against each other next month, right?”
“Yeah. I know.” Historically, Belgrave has won the majority of their matchups, and every time Everett complains about their unfair advantage with their fancy equipment or their alumni having connections to the professional league. And now I’m part of that enemy team.
She bends down to tie her tennis shoe and that’s when I notice the bruise across her lower back.
“What happened?”
She quickly stands and tugs her shell down. “Clumsy me fell at cheer yesterday.”
The lie makes me want to choke someone. “Did Luca do it? Or Micah?”
“No, no,” she declares quickly and shakes her head. “Seriously, I just lost my balance.”
“Yeah. My mom would fall a lot when my dad was drinking.” I state, watching her reaction before she turns her face away and I continue, “Was it your dad or mom?”
She mutters, “I fell. That was it. So, drop it.”
I don’t push her or follow as she walks away. Obviously, she isn’t ready to say anything, but there’s something going on. She may annoy me more than I can admit, but she doesn’t deserve that. No one does.
Heading to the natatorium, I take my spot on the bleachers.
For a few moments, I replay the conversation, unable to shake it before I pull out my phone and scroll through Brooke’s Insta.
Every photo is her smiling and happy. Even the one she posted this morning was a cheery facade with Cain beside her in a Belgrave jersey.
Completely different from the person that I had a talk with.
Is anyone here real? Or is everyone putting on a show?
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I use my backpack as a pillow and lie across the bench. It feels like I’ve just shut my eyes and dozed off when I hear Coach yell, “Walker, wake up. Time for the pep rally. Let’s go.”
Yeah. No. Count me out. I’d rather stay here and suffer through another aquatics class then attend the spirit-filled rally festivities.
Everyone heads to the gym, and I make my way to the parking lot. It’s been a long week. Nothing much has happened, it’s just felt like the minutes were hours. And every time I turn around, Luca is there. Watching me. Annoying me. And reminding me of our damn free-falling experience together.
And right now is no different because as I exit the school, he’s propped up against his car, watching as I make my way to mine. Only, as soon as I arrive to it, I realize there’s a big problem. Every window has been shattered. All the tires are flat. And that’s just on the surface.
Looking over my shoulder, I see the smirk on his face. He did this.
Marching towards him, I drop my bag at his feet and shove my hands against his chest. He doesn’t even budge and casually asks, “Need a ride home?”
I stand nose-to-nose with him. “I need you to stay the fuck out of my life.”
He suddenly moves, rotating so my back is forced against his car. His arms come around either side of me, caging me in place. “That’s not going to happen.”
I shove against him then motion to where my car is trashed. “Why? Why would you do that?”
He ignores my question, pressing harder into me as his mouth moves closer to mine.
His calmness pisses me off even more.
Swinging my fist back, I hammer against the door of his car. “Fine. I’m going to trash yours.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. “Good. I’ve been thinking about getting a new car anyway.”
God, I want to murder him. And not in his sleep. When he’s wide awake so he knows it was me giving him payback. “Yes. That’s right. Spoiled little rich boy can just replace everything when he’s tired of it.”
“Is that your problem?” He leans back, his mocking eyes holding mine. “You worry I’ll replace you once I tire of you.”
“No. You are the entire problem.” I smack against his chest. “Your delusional, thick skull can’t retain simple instructions like Stay the fuck away from me.”
He shifts forward, his mouth next to my ear as he whispers, “Don’t worry, Ivy. I’ll never get enough of you.”
Yep. Completely fucking delusional. “You’ll never get any of me. And I’ve had entirely enough of you.”
I raise my hand, moving to slap his face but his hand catches my wrist. “You have to be faster than that. But don’t try too hard yet. Wouldn’t want to reinjure that shoulder.”
“Fuck you.” I yank my hand from his and give him a solid shove as I escape his grasp.
Him mentioning my injury shouldn’t bother me.
He shouldn’t get to me at all. But everything the asshole does makes me want to throat punch him.
And the self-satisfaction on his face when I glance over my shoulder is no different.