shaking. “I’m not doing this.” He moves to continue down the corridor and I reach out, grabbing him by the bicep. It’s rock hard and bigger than my fist. He easily jerks away, eyes flashing as he turns to me. “Are you deaf?”
I swallow, and my voice isn’t anywhere near as hard and sharp as I’d like it to be. “I just want you to answer one thing for me.”
He chews out a terse, “What?”
“What is this secret thing you and Emory are planning?”
He snorts a humorless laugh, gaze jumping to a group of students in the distance. “So you were eavesdropping.”
“No,” I insist, grasping the straps of my bag in a tight, frustrated grip. “I was saving a chipmunk while you guys were loudly discussing something nefarious.”
“Nefarious?” He rolls his eyes, the muscle in the back of his jaw going rigid. “Just leave it alone. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“No,” I say, and there it is. The sharpness. The determination. Finally. “The last time I left something alone with you two, I regretted it.”
His eyes finally land on mine, something dark and full of warning within his gaze. “Drop it, Baby V.”
The nickname clings to the air like a memory of something painfully personal. He’s the only one who ever called me Baby V. I see it now for what it always was; a way of putting me in my place. It’s how he got me in that car. It’s how he manipulated me.
Not anymore.
“If it’s not a big deal,” I say, raising myself to my full height, “then tell me what you were talking about.”
His shoulder jerks up in a stiff shrug. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
The curve of his brows pucker in annoyance. “Because, I promised your brother I wouldn’t.”
Great. Because stupid teenage boy loyalty always works out so well. “Tell me one thing,” I demand, not flinching at the darkness in his eyes. “Is this going to get the two of you into trouble?”
His eyes hold mine. “Not if I can help it.”
A flare of irritation runs through me and I hold up my hands. “God, why are you doing this? You just came back home! Emory is so excited that you’re here. Last year was super shitty and a lot of bad stuff went down. Most of his friends graduated, his girlfriend graduated…” I implore him with my eyes, “Why are you risking getting kicked out again?” I might not know this new Reyn, but one thing is for sure. “You’re not this dumb.”
Something in his expression shifts at my outburst, the crease in his forehead transforming to something seeking, confused. “It’s not like that.”
“How would I know?” I scoff, my anxious gaze tracking two passing students. I wait until they turn the corner to ask, “If it’s not dangerous, then why can’t you just tell me?”
With his hand clenched around the strap of his backpack, he turns away, face shuttering. “We’re done.”
“Wait.”
He doesn’t.
Moving as fast as I can to keep up with his long strides, I ask, “Why did you say we’re not supposed to be together?”
At this, he stops, pulling in a hard breath. “Because it’s a condition of my probation for coming back here.” He uses fingers to quote, “Vandy Hall is off-limits.”
Off-limits.
Story of my life.
“Why?” I blurt. “Because I’m so pathetic? So vulnerable? So—” Broken.
The words won’t emerge from the tightness in my throat. It feels like the last three years crashing back down on me and I’m drowning in it, fighting against a current I can’t beat back.
He stares at me for a long moment, eyebrows pulling together. “What? That’s not—” He waves a hand, something irritated and dismissive about the gesture. “I’m the one who’s the problem. I’m like the bad fucking seed around here. Got to keep me away from sharp objects, you know. I’m a danger to pretty girls, sweet old ladies, and small fluffy animals.” Despite the thread of levity to his words, the tight smile he wears is edged with bitterness.
Of course, all I can think about is the fact he kind of just called me… pretty?
I work so hard to push that thought away that I physically shake my head.
“You’re not—” He looks away, that tight smile transforming into a stony frown. “You’re not pathetic.”
“Tell that to the rest of the school.” I snort, following his gaze to where a puddle is collecting nearby. “They treat me like I’m a delicate flower. One swift wind or a hard rain, and my petals fall right off.”