toilet seat, listening to Celine Dion’s “All By Myself.”
Even Zolroth couldn’t penetrate the depressive fog I found myself in, though he sure as hell tried.
In decathlon, I ignore everyone and take a seat near the back of the room, content to press my nose into the study guide and memorize my ass off. I become distinctly aware of a towering silhouette stealing the remaining light from the room. Blinking, I glance up at Kastros’s scowling face. He reaches over and touches my hair, pulling out a… Well, I’ll be damned. That’s one of the M&Ms from my second hour pity snack fest. How did that get there?
Ignoring the ogling girls and the wary boys, Kastros grabs my wrist and practically drags me out of the classroom and into the hall. Van, Zolroth, and Raz all stand in a haphazard semi-circle, similar expressions of irritation etched onto their ridiculously handsome faces.
“What?” I growl, struggling against Kastros’s iron grip.
“You can’t keep fucking doing this.” Raz’s voice is a rumble that reverberates through my body. Husky and almost primitive in nature. His eyes hurl daggers in my direction as he leans against the closest locker and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Doing what?” I demand. Honestly, I haven’t been doing anything today. Literally. Unless they count the time in third hour when I watched Sixteen Candles on my phone while the teacher lectured. Or in fourth hour when I traded a pack of gum for an entire box of cereal that Manny Brooks always brings to class, just so I could binge eat and forget my troubles. Or the time—
“You’re fucking pouting.” Van makes a face at me, as if my teenaged troubles are so far beneath him. “It’s irritating.”
“I am not pouting,” I protest immediately.
In answer, Kastros grabs another strand of my bright pink hair and pulls out a… Is that a piece of chicken? When the fuck did I have chicken—
Ohhhh. Fifth hour. I paid Martin Smiles—the resident stoner—to pick up a bucket of KFC. Stace, being the perfect friend she is, even went as far as to stop at the nearby gas station and grab me a tub of mint chocolate chip. She didn’t necessarily understand why I needed my go-to comfort food, but she’s my ride or die bitch and supports me unconditionally.
“What the hell do you even see in that guy?” Raz explodes, throwing his hands up into the air. It almost sounds as if he’s actually growling. Honest-to-God growling, like he’s some sort of feral hyena set loose on the unsuspecting population. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”
“Fuck you.” I mimic his posture, crossing my arms over my chest and leveling him with an almost incandescent glare. “And fuck you, you, and you too.” I direct the last line at Van, Zolroth, and Kastros respectively.
“You wish,” Van snorts.
“No, I don’t actually! I wish I was fucking William! But no. You all are the worst demon matchmakers in the history of ever!” I’m super articulate when I’m pissed.
“Hey, you just need to stick with the plan. Jealousy will win out,” Zolroth reassures me.
“Whose jealousy? Mine? While William’s tongue is down Janie’s throat—”
Raz grabs my arm. “Shut up.”
Van grabs him. “Dude, you can’t touch her in school. You’re supposed to be her teacher.”
Raz doesn’t speak, his breathing coming out in stuttered spurts like he has just run a marathon or like he’s holding himself back. His eyes flash red for a second as he stares at me. Tension builds between us, as hot and thick as steam in a sauna. Why the fuck is he so pissed about this? I’m pissed at him for being pissed.
But then something changes. For a split second, I swear his eyes change color again.
Nope. I’m delusional. There’s only burning red.
Raz’s expression crumbles. And I don’t understand why, but don’t have time to process it because Kastros yanks Raz away and Zolroth steps smoothly into his space.
“Baby girl,” Zolroth takes a step closer to me, a mischievous smile illuminating his normally serious face, “if William has a date tonight, then we have our first date tonight.”
I don’t know why I agreed to this. Honestly, I have no fucking idea why I agreed to this. A momentary lapse of sanity? Sheer stupidity? Jealousy?
Either way, I find myself waiting on the front porch at exactly seven sharp. I hired Sasha to babysit Adam tonight, and the fiery redhead had been over-the-moon at my offer to pay her time and a half for her services. I don’t