Chapter 9
“BAD TO YOU” BY ARIANA GRANDE, NORMANI, AND NICK MINAJ
Acar door slammed to my left while I texted D’arcy before school a few days later.
September was almost over, and the student election had been delayed once again for Diana Goodbody’s bullshit excuses, which meant the theme for prom was paused until the new president was elected.
No one wanted Diana to be the one choosing the theme of our final senior event.
My thumbs continued moving. I was too irritated with the news about the elections to deal with Football Barbie’s usual ignorance of my presence.
I was convinced at this point she’d anxiously shuffle out of her car and bolt inside the school every morning if it meant she could avoid the girl in black on the scary motorcycle.
At least, until I realized her footsteps were growing much closer to me than normal. Today was not another day I got a good view of her ass when she fished that bookbag from her back seat.
My eyes crawled up from my phone when I noticed pink checkered shoes landing just feet from my front wheel. I turned down my music and opened my mouth to say something, but she didn’t give me the chance, not even the curtesy of letting me take my helmet off for introductions.
“Why do you park next to me every day?” she asked, a little frantic. Her hands unsteadily trembled as she spoke to me. It was the first thing I noticed about her, besides her surprising directness. “I mean, seriously, every single day. What’s your deal?”
I didn’t think she had it in her. Even as I stared at her, I wasn’t sure she was being serious.
Her eyes were a bit wide, and her hands fidgeted constantly—into her hair, tugging at her jacket, wringing around her wrists.
She was anxious to confront me. I had to hide that I was holding back laughter at the little quiver in her voice.
What was she doing, fussing at me for something completely normal?
Erica hit the nail on the head with this one being unstable.
She didn’t find this funny. I tried to keep myself from laughing, but it slipped. Thank Satan for this helmet, because the smile tearing across my face would have pissed her off. I was sure of it.
Her thicker eyebrows creased against her forehead. I settled back on my bike and watched the ticking time bomb in front of me slowly inch closer to the end of the lit fuse. Unfortunately for me, while I kicked my leg back and forth patiently, Quinntessa was waiting for me to respond.
“Your car’s nice.” I didn’t see the point in responding. My helmet would have muffled my answer, but I did it anyway for Miss Priss.
“So?” A single brow curved to challenge me.
I choked out a short laugh in complete disbelief. She glared up at me, her cheeks rosy.
“Your bike’s loud,” she continued.
A shiver shot up my spine as our eyes met. She couldn’t see the way my smile slipped off my face or the way I examined the twitch in her brow through the tint of my helmet.
“So is the sports car you drive through the Groves every day, babe.” I rolled my eyes and trailed my eyes over the blue paint of the Mustang.
Miss Priss loaded up like an old video game, giving me time to add into my argument.
“You don’t even know how to drive that thing, yet you’re forcing the engine to go over the tracks every time. ”
Quinntessa blushed. She didn’t put together my words as quickly as I had, worried she’d ask me why I was in Cross Key Groves.
It slipped from my lips before I could stop myself.
I took the chance to unravel my fingerless leather gloves as she processed where to go next.
She continued to burn red with frustration.
It was a good color on her. I wondered if she was as warm as the fire burning inside her.
“Look, I’m bored. It’s too early to be arguing with you,” I cut her off before she could speak again.
“My car has nothing to do with you parking your bike directly beside?—”
Again, I jumped in before she could wave her hand in a direction that didn’t matter.
To onlookers, it must have appeared as if I drove into the side of her car.
She was paranoid as shit, a spoiled brat.
Every ounce of hotness that came from her disappeared the second she opened her mouth and acted as though she owned this parking space.
I hated entitled people.
However, she was pretty funny all worked up.
Her brows screwed together, and her eyes darted around in such a frazzled state, I thought she might pop an anxiety pill right there in front of me.
Someone get this girl a Xanax. If anyone needed to smoke some weed, it was Quinntessa.
Maybe then, she’d chill out and stop teetering back and forth from foot to foot like she was prepared to tackle me off my bike.
I’d like to see little Edwina Cunt-len try to get that glitter all over my black jeans.
“It’s a parking lot,” I reminded her. “You don’t like it? Go park across the street or walk like the other Groves kids.”
“I’m not a Groves kid, whatever that means,” Quinntessa protested. She was repulsed at the idea of being grouped with the neighborhood she lived in, her lip curling lightly as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “There are a ton of open spaces. This shouldn’t be an issue.”
Who the fuck let the next Bratz doll into Styxton High?
Smiling to myself, I leaned back and watched her point out each open spot.
Her curls bounced, and I just knew she smelled so fucking good.
Those well-manicured nails pointed around us, giving me a nice view of her strong fingers.
The morning sun beat down on her face enough for me to see literal glitter sparking under her eyes.
Her highlighter was impressively reflective and contrasted the depth of her dark eyes well.
Now that we were closer, I could see the freckles across her face, some faint and some defined, a beautiful constellation mapped across her face.
Her image partly blurred in my eyes as her upper body turned to face me again. I heard each slow breath in my ears. My eyes raked up and down her body until I found my favorite feature.
Temptation.
I learned a lot about temptation when I attended church more regularly. The dark father would be ashamed of how easily I wondered if killing this girl was right. It wasn’t about what was right, but more so about how easily I could manipulate this to go my way.
There were ants that came running when something sweet was left out, usually a trap laid by humans. This girl was a trap. She had to be. Everything about her reminded me of honeybees—her eyes, her skin, the way she moved.
This girl glowed like freshly poured honey.
As insulting as it may have sounded, it was a compliment.
A girl as beautiful as that against a girl like me?
I was teetering on the edge of a trap, and I had just enough consciousness to realize it might have been my father’s intention to catch me by surprise.
Quinntessa looked nothing like her father besides that stupid grin I saw on the football field and her nasty scowl I witnessed seconds ago.
I wanted to grab her by the hips and pin her against the side of her car.
Did she not understand the more she approached me as if she wanted a fight, the more I would fucking give her one?
I wanted her to smile again, to give me that stupid grin, make me want to turn Lukas into the kennels for a golden retriever. That way, I’d be ambushed by a sliver of the butterflies in my stomach, the same insects I had seeing her prance around with the football.
Quinntessa turned around and tossed an aggressive hand at a parking spot further out, still rambling on about her wishes for me to move. She was out of breath, red in the face, and I wanted to touch her so fucking badly.
That’s it. Yell at me, baby girl.
Fuck. I really needed to get her out of my head. Cute or not, this wasn’t going to end well for her. I couldn’t allow myself to get pulled in by how sexy she was pissed off.
Though I would never let my words meet the air, Erica was right about it being messy to play around with someone so close to Estelle. She didn’t know the extent of this assignment, and I wanted to keep it that way. The less Erica knew, the better. It was safer that way.
Quinntessa had no idea how close I was to grabbing any information on her I could get. She was a pawn before I reached Sebastian. He was the true target, after all. Papa would be proud to know I wasn’t stopping on an easy kill. She was only a pawn.
A pawn with features that really fucked me up.
Her large eyes the other night stuck with me.
Based on the way she was shaking, I bet they were filled with fear the other night.
She was terrified of parking beside me, and she hadn’t known it was me snooping around her garage.
Yankee Doodle Doo had some insecurities that make her chatter and stumble over her own words.
She spun back around and determinedly raised her chin. Color me impressed she held her own against me. Poor little Quinntessa had no idea I could end all her hopes and dreams right here.
If I grabbed her by that necklace around her throat?—
My breath hitched.
I blinked frantically and forced my eyes to the Mustang. Repulsion filled my chest, then my stomach and throat. I wanted to curl over and vomit at the thought of harming her. I always got these intrusive thoughts when Papa pushed me back into this game he played.
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t hurt her.
I needed to get away from her before I snapped. Humanity. I needed to hold on to humanity.
“Sorry for being a friendly neighbor,” I snorted. “But again, not seeing the issue, babe.”
She spun around sharply at my tone with a stiff glare. Her chest rose and fell twice before she was able to relax her shoulders. For a second, I thought she’d accept defeat.
Fuck me sideways, because this girl was much more stubborn than that.
“The issue is, there are a ton of open spaces.”