recently… I sneak another look at him through the corner of my eye and realize he’s one of the stars from a dorky teen movie I watched. He plays the obnoxious jock that gets his ass kicked by the geeks in the end. Justice at its finest.
“I believe that’s what you told our teacher. But look at you, all grown up now. An ass like that, you don’t belong in this corner all by yourself. Come join my friends.” Alec pops a shoulder in the direction of a rowdy table at the end of the room – a prime spot in front of the French doors opening out into a sunny courtyard lined with palms. Gabriel Fallen sits at the end of the table, telling a story to three model-thin girls who are hanging on every word. He sees me and waves. Beside him are the other two guys from my locker this morning. The dark-haired one stirs his food around his plate, but the golden-god, Elias, stares at me with this intense look, like he’s reading my secrets from my skin.
Nope. Not happening.
“Pass.” I angle my chair away. Alec still doesn’t take the hint. He places both hands on my shoulders and starts rubbing in circles. It’s fucking gross. My skin crawls under his touch. It’s the exact opposite of what happened with Gabriel. I flinch away as he leans in close to coo in my ear.
“You know, the hard-to-get act is old, Malloy. I’m king at this school, and my friends are like a royal court. You’d be well advised to take this offer before it’s rescinded and you end up another one of the plebs. I know for a girl like you that’s a fate worse than death.”
He hisses the last word, the death. He wants me to feel it. His hot breath curdles my skin, and it takes me back to another night, another guy’s hot breathing on my ear, another set of hands on me that I didn’t ask for. Stale air. A satin-lined box I couldn’t escape…
I’m done.
I don’t even think.
I slam my fist into Alec LeMarque’s nose.
6
Mackenzie
I’ve been at Stonehurst Prep less than five hours and I’m already in the principal’s office.
I stare at the wall behind Mrs. Foster’s face as she drones on about responsibility and solving my problems without violence. It’s weird – the adults in my life have never tried to dissuade me from violence before. Violence has always been part of my world.
Not at Stonehurst, it appears.
I rub my sore knuckles, feeling the satisfying jolt of pain from where my fist connected with the cartilage in Alec’s nose. I wonder if he’ll get a lecture about not sleazing onto girls who aren’t interested. He got carried out of the cafeteria in an ambulance, screaming something to me about a lawsuit. Which I definitely need to ask Antony about, but it has to wait until Mrs. Foster’s tirade is over.
I itch to touch the locket hidden under my collar, but I don’t want to give Mrs. Foster a reason to prolong this torture.
“I know you’ve had it tough, Mackenzie.” She steeples her fingers together, and there’s this look on her face like she’s trying to pretend she gives a fuck. “These past few years can’t have been easy on you. What with your parents… But that’s no excuse for antisocial behavior. If you need to talk about what you’ve been through, we have a guidance counselor available any time you need, and my door is always open if you want to talk.”
The question hangs in the air between us, unasked and unanswered. She doesn’t give a shit about getting me to talk about my feelings, she just wants the scoop like the rest of them. What happened to your parents, Mackenzie? Why are you suddenly back at school? Where have you been the last four years?
By the time she dismisses me with a month of detentions and an order to write a note of apology to Alec LeMarque, I’ve got one class left – Political Science.
The eyes follow me as I take the only available seat, near the windows. Only instead of curious, they’re hostile. I hurt their leader, their king. I made a big ugly bloodstain on the pristine white tablecloth.
I don’t belong.
My seat is next to the dark-haired hottie, the one with the eyes like coals fresh from a fire. The one who could be an MMA fighter for all his bulk and the danger rolling off him