Chapter eighteen Bexley
Chapter eighteen
Bexley
“We’ve had a steady number of signups again this week,” Arch informs me, handing over his phone. “It’s getting harder to schedule the fights.”
I scan the screen, taking note of all the familiar names with a nod. “Maybe we need to up the fight nights to twice a week.”
Arch pulls a look of concentration. “Friday and Saturday?”
“It’s our best bet,” I reply. “The last thing we need is for people to get antsy. With exams kicking off soon, everyone needs to be level-headed.”
He takes his phone back, punching out some notes. “Did you want to chat to your boy toys about it or would you like me to arrange with them?”
“Boy toys?” I mumble in amusement. “Shit, Arch. Don’t let them hear you say that.”
“I’m not taking the blame for any lovers’ spats,” he jokes. “Besides, I’ve heard what they call me. I’m still pissed that you’re apparently Batman and I’m Robin. I’d make a much better Batgirl.”
I snort. “I bet Abby would love to see you in leather.”
Arch pauses his steps, pondering. “Oddly enough, you’ve just given me a good idea…”
“Nope,” I groan. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want the trauma of picturing you in leather or latex. I’m already a hot messy expressy.”
We resume our pace as he shoots me a wicked grin. “Still can’t believe you managed to break Lannister.”
My cheeks flush a nice shade of peach—living up to the cherished nickname.
There’s no secrets between us, but even I can admit that when I filled him in the other day about Hunter—only minor details, of course—I was nervous about doing so.
Not because I was worried he’d judge me or anything.
It just seems so surreal to think that I’m now here.
Or we. I feel like if I’m going down, I should drag Arch with me because misery loves company.
But jokes aside, it feels as though a weight has been lifted. Part of me expected and prepared for Hunter to give me the cold shoulder after he screwed me on top of his piano. But to my astonishment, he’s been… normal.
Well, by normal I mean he’s not cranky, sending me death glares, or stomping around like a toddler. So… I guess not normal by Hunter standards?
“I guess near-death experiences will do that to you,” I answer with a dry laugh. “Life has a weird sense of humor.”
“Arson is the new cupid. Duly noted,” Arch smirks. “Thank fuck I have Abby because, no offence, it’s not particularly a method I’d be keen to try if I was single.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. It’s a proven stress reliever.”
“Are you less stressed?”
“Not even a little bit. But it’s refreshing not having to worry about them murdering me.”
I should have known that putting things out into the universe is bad luck. Abby has been training us well with her microwave sentiments, so it’s entirely on me when I’m suddenly shoved hard into a locker.
My body collides with Arch’s, the pair of us stumbling to catch our footing.
“Get out of the fucking way,” a gruff voice snaps.
I follow the sound, immediately recognizing the brooding idiot.
“Perkins, right?” I ask coldly, straightening up. “Has no one taught you directions or spatial awareness because I’m fairly certain you ran into me.”
He snickers to the growing crowd behind him, and I quickly notice that Arch and I are surrounded by nothing but Willowbrook students. No teachers, no Cedar Heights allies. Just tall, broad-shouldered jocks.
“Oh, yeah?” He taunts. “Prove it, Spencer.”
Large hands with accompanying sausage fingers shove me hard in the chest, sending me flying. My back hits the lockers with a bang and I spring forward, delivering my own rough push into his torso.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Archie growls, trying to put himself in between us.
We’re being ambushed. It’s obvious. And immediately, all my prior statements are thrown out the window as I’m forced to take a stand against this dickwad.
Perkins grins to one of his buddies, giving a short nod. Arch is suddenly grabbed by a pair of footballers and I see red.
I thrust my burgundy red nails into the jugular of one guy’s throat, pleased when he lets go of Arch and stumbles back. But before I can reach for the other jock, someone grabs my arms and yanks me away.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I snarl, jerking my head back blindly in an attempt to hit someone.
It’s futile. Someone holds my wrists, pinning them to my back as more bodies swarm on Arch as well.
Normally I’d confidently say that they wouldn’t take it too far in an open hallway and this is just a scare tactic, but the sight of bodies blocking either end of the hallway screams that this was premeditated.
It’s not a warning. This is a downright attack.
The bell rings overhead signaling next class is about to begin, and before I can decide if it’s a good thing, I’m thrown like a ragdoll in a hurricane straight into the lockers.
I have no chance at finding my footing or catching myself, rolling down with a crash. A pained cry escapes me when poor Arch is tossed on top of me, followed by a nauseating smell hitting my senses.
Something else topples on us and I resist the urge to puke as curdled chocolate milk spills down my arm while empty food wrappers and fruit skins land on my head.
“Wolves, bitch!” Perkins cackles, the group dispersing in various directions as the sound of approaching students heading to classrooms grows louder.
I’m in shock at what just went down, barely registering the rushing footsteps that come toward us.
“Shit! Bex, what the fuck happened?” Sophia asks, leaning down.
Gazing around, I grit my teeth together as I spot some raised phones, people giggling as they snap photos.
I quickly spring to my feet before helping Arch up. Parker pops into my line of vision, his face twisted in anger, and I don’t even have it in me to clutch onto the fact that the two of them must have been together.
“Fucking jocks,” I finally answer, dangerously low. “Attacked us out of nowhere.”
Soph’s mouth pops open in disgust. “I’m calling Tai,” she announces, but I hold my hand up, stopping her.
“Don’t,” I reply angrily, hoping she realizes my tone isn’t directed at her. “This has nothing to do with them.”
She purses her lips, eyes darting over to Parker for guidance. He stares at me, then Arch, before slowly shaking his head.
I hate the hurt that flashes over her face at being outnumbered. It makes me feel sick, repulsed even, but it’s obvious that whatever just went down is a reflection of my situation with her brother and his best friends. Calling them will only make things worse—make me lose my credibility.
I don’t need the Willowbrook Kings to save me. I never have. And if I start now, it’s only going to fuel these bullies into upping their tactics knowing it gets a rise out of me.
My body throbs painfully as I flick garbage off, spotting the discarded—now empty—trash bin in the middle of the hallway.
“Are you okay?” I ask Arch, inspecting him from head to toe.
“No,” he responds without hesitation. “You?”
I scoff. “Not even a little bit.”
Soph takes a tiny step forward, unsure how to approach me. But bless her heart, she’s still trying anyway. “What can I do?”
I make a deliberate effort to soften my face despite hurting all over, both physically and mentally. “Nothing, Soph. Please don’t worry about us. We’re used to this and it will be dealt with.”
Parker leans over and whispers something in Arch’s ear, the pair exchanging heated words while I attempt to placate my friend.
“I don’t understand…” she murmurs sadly. “Why would they do this? Do you think it has something to do with…” Trailing off, Soph scans the passing crowd nervously. “That thing?”
That thing being Rylan’s confession.
“Of course it is,” I answer with a sigh. “Liv just can’t seem to help herself. Her Willowbrook posse are mad and they know they can’t take it out on their leaders. So, we’re the next best thing.”
She scowls angrily. “They can’t punish you for Liv’s stupid insecurities. And this is beyond pranks and cruel words. It’s violence.”
“I know it is,” I reply. “But it doesn’t change the fact I’m sleeping with their leaders.”
Soph nods slowly. “Two of them anyway.”
I freeze, momentarily forgetting the radiating pain in my side and upper body from hitting the lockers. I haven’t had a chance to fill her in yet, and if I’m being honest, now is not the time or place either.
“I need to go get cleaned up and figure shit out,” I casually say, turning to Arch. “What do you want to do?”
Arch flicks a soggy piece of bread off his forearm. “Truthfully? I want to get the fuck out of here and shower. But we can’t.”
“Why not?” Soph asks, bewildered.
Laughing sarcastically, I raise a knowing eyebrow at her. “Because we’d look like we were running away. It’s what they want.”
She gapes at me. “And the alternative is staying here covered in trash juice?”
“Yep,” I answer dryly. “It’s great being me.”
Parker glares at some freshmen who giggle as they pass, their footsteps hastily picking up speed in fright when he curses them.
“And it couldn’t have happened tomorrow,” Soph scoffs. “At least you’d have your gym clothes.”
Straightening up, an idea hits me. I beam at her, grabbing the sides of her arms.
“I could kiss you, Sophia Beckett. But I won’t… because Parker scares me more than those pin-dick jocks ever could.”
I send Arch home with the promise to hold down the fort. Nurse Millar was kind as usual and signed off on him being excused for the rest of the day.
Me, however? I’m out for blood.
Never piss off a woman whose only crime is liking a good dicking.
I know I’ll get in some shit for skipping class, but those consequences I’ll deal with later. The quiet corridors help put my plan into action, and when the break begins, I start hunting down the head cheerleader.
If she wants to fuck around, she can enter the find out territory.
People gasp and gawk at me as I stroll toward the quadrangle with my head held high. They’re in too much shock to do much else, completely stunned when I pass by with my sights on the glass door.
Liv is easy to spot, twirling her long hair in the sunlight. Every now and again, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk at someone. I don’t need the visual confirmation to see it’s Rylan, his disinterested frame paying no attention to her antics.
Perfect. The three of them are together by the wolf statue. It’s only fitting that they witness this.
I have no idea if they have been made aware of what went down, but at the moment, it’s not even a question in my mind as I lock in on my target.
Don’t punch her. Don’t punch her. Don’t fucking hit her.
Reminding myself that being expelled is a bad idea, I dig deep into my self-control as I step through the doors of the quad, eyes narrowing as Liv’s piercing squeal hits my ears.
More gasps explode around me, people stunned into silence. At least the dimwit has some awareness of her surroundings, body stilling as she takes notice of the change of atmosphere from people in the quad.
Liv spins around, searching for the distraction when she spots me stalking toward her.
Red-hot anger flashes in her eyes as her salmon-pink lips part. Sierra actually starts choking on her water, slapping her chest as her eyes bug out of her skull.
I don’t have the time to gauge the guys’ reactions, Liv stomping toward me with rage.
“Take that off your whorish body right NOW,” she yells, grubby little hand reaching for me.
I catch her wrist, gripping a finger with my other hand. I twist one of her acrylic nails, snapping it clean off as she yelps in pain. “This thing?” I ask, tossing the broken nail at her face before waving a hand coolly down my body. “I thought it was ‘dress like a bitch’ day. You don’t like it?”
Liv seethes, steam almost blowing out of her ears. “Take my uniform off, you fucking psycho!”
Doing my best impression of her, I plop a hand on my hip, jutting it out while twirling a piece of hair.
The spare head cheerleader uniform I found is admittedly tight on me, but even I can attest that it doesn’t look bad on my figure. It’s complimented by the vanilla-cinnamon scent from my freshly washed hair and body—courtesy of the products I found in her stall in the cheer allocated locker room.
“The Tom Ford perfume is a nice touch,” I comment with a sly smirk. “Also, my apologies—or concepts of one—I don’t really know or care. Just be careful… I may have accidentally dropped something and shattered the glass. Shame. It looked like a full bottle too.”
Her eyes blow wide, spluttering as Sierra finally appears next to her, seemingly on top of the water situation.
“You’re a… a cunt!” she manages to muster.
“And you would fail a personality test,” I shoot back without missing a beat.
“I’d say you’re destined to peak in high school like Liv, but frankly, if I was you, I’d be more concerned about the fact your greatest achievement in life is being a shadow.
Originality really said ‘no, thank you’ when it was your turn. ”
Sierra blinks at me before whispering at her friend, “I don’t know what that means.”
“Shut up, Sierra!” Liv snaps, pushing her backwards. Ah, yes—I see where Perkins got the idea from now. Not even two brain cells to rub together between this group.
“Shut up, Sierra,” I mock in a high-pitched voice.
Liv stills, staring daggers at me. Smiling sweetly, I step into her, really wishing I could witness this from the outside.
I bet it looks hilarious, the pair of us in matching attire facing off.
“Listen to me, you grand delusion of adequacy. I have no desire to challenge you to a game of wits since you’re permanently unarmed.
So, I’ll only say this once: if you or any of your people touch me again, I’ll fuck you up so bad that your pH levels become so alkalic that even your pet rock gets a yeast infection. ”
Liv recoils. “I do NOT have a pet rock, you disgusting degenerate. And I’d like to see you try.”
“My bad,” I murmur sarcastically. “I could only assume that’s the company you keep in conjunction with shadows since you’re dull, obnoxious, and make everyone within a five-mile radius want to gouge their eyes out.
How about this?” I push my chest into her further, making her stumble to hold her stance.
“You’re always so quick to get everyone to do your dirty work for you.
Meet me in the cage on Friday and face me yourself.
Hell, bring Perkins and Sierra too—I have no problem handling three. ”