is the sixth text I’ve gotten from a basic bitch fishing for info on the new guy. Do your own damn research!”
I chuckled and ran my hands through the ridiculously soft faux fur of the cushion in my lap. Mena and Harlow were throwing bits of popcorn at each other, trying to catch them with their mouths between fits of giggles, and only half paying attention.
“No boy talk!” Harlow yelled, then launched herself to the side to try to catch a kernel.
Mena laughed so hard she had to wipe tears away before she could speak. “I don’t get why everyone’s obsessed with him. He’s just a guy.”
“Because we go to school with a bunch of thirsty bitches,” Amaya deadpanned.
I laughed. She wasn’t wrong. People were fascinated because he was a shiny new toy, but he’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to be played with. We may as well give him what he wants . . .
“Reply to them.” I gestured at Amaya’s phone, and she picked it up.
I spent most of Sunday doing homework, and on Monday, while most people were dragging their feet into school, I marched in with a faint smile. Every time something annoyed or frustrated me, I’d remember the loud music thrumming in my chest, the smell of beer and sweat and cheap perfume, the feeling of eyes on me as I danced like a stripper. Shady must’ve been in one of his moods, because I ended up not finding a guy to have dirty sex with, but it was still a fun night—exactly the break and distraction I’d needed.
With the help of a few depraved texts from Shady, my Davey’s high lasted well past the weekend, and I was still feeling loose as I pulled into the school parking lot on Tuesday morning.
“What the fuck?” Amaya growled. She’d spotted the Tesla in my spot the same time I did. I came to a stop and gripped the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.
“Whose car is that?” Harlow leaned between the front seats.
Everyone at Fulton knew not to park in that spot—everyone except one infuriating new asshole.
“I’ll give you three guesses.” My buzz was wearing off, and I hadn’t even stepped foot into the school yet.
“We’ll just have to park somewhere else today.” Mena squeezed my shoulder. “It’s no biggie.”
She didn’t get it. It may have been just a parking spot to everyone else, but I knew how these things worked. If I gave them a parking spot crumb, those vultures would devour my whole carcass—scrape my dignity, influence, and power from me strip by bloody strip. I had to remain in control.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll drive to the back of the lot and look for a spot.”
“No way, girl. We stick together,” Amaya protested immediately, but Harlow was already undoing her belt.
“I can’t get another late mark. Sorry, sis!” She sounded genuinely sorry but also a little satisfied at my ire—little sisters.
“I’ll walk with you,” Mena said to me.
I checked the time and shook my head. “Thanks, girls, but there’s no sense in us all being late. Get your fine asses out of my car.”
I flashed them a smile to show I really didn’t mind, and they got out, rushing for the front doors. There were hardly any students still outside. I had five minutes to find a spot and get to my first class.
Just as I was about to take off, the door to the Tesla opened, and Hendrix fucking Hawthorn stepped out, completely unhurried and unfazed.
I quickly put my car in neutral and pulled the parking brake, then got out too. If I had to be late, so would he.
“Hendrix.” I raised my voice, letting the edge cut into the single word.
He looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “What now? I’m gonna be late.”
“You’re in my spot.” I folded my arms and glared, showing him exactly how pissed I was.
“Excuse me?”
“You.” I pointed at him, speaking as though I were explaining a complex idea to a child. “Are in.” I pointed to his car. “My spot.”
He stared at me for a beat, then made a show of checking the ground around his car before raising his brows and holding his arms out at his sides. “Don’t see your name on it.”
I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’ve tried to be nice, but you threw