of you,” I hiss.
He pushes off the wall. “Not the intention.”
“Then what the fuck is?” I snap.
“Having your back until we figure out who sent the video.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh, please.”
“No one pulls that shit and gets away with it on our watch.”
I shake my head and continue to my class.
We decided to hit the fitness center with the guys during lunch. Kiki was cool with it, since she and I used to run together until she got all pregnant, happy, and then married. Apparently, newlyweds don’t require cardio. Brisa and Tris, who’ve never had to exercise a day in their lives, both follow along, knowing we won’t leave them in the cafeteria alone.
“Isn’t sweating during our lunch period illegal or something?” Tris grumbles as she looks at the elliptical, and we all laugh at her.
Brisa hits a few buttons for Tris as she asks me, “Do you believe him?”
I told them all about the bathroom incident where the horsemen seemingly had my back, as well as every time I’ve changed classes today, while she steps onto the treadmill and begins walking backward so she’s facing me. I’m on the ab machine, since I can’t run, row, or cycle because of my damn ankle.
“Why should she?” Kiki asks from the treadmill.
Brisa shrugs. “The bigger question is: why would they have sent her the ultimate golden ticket to an event, where no one else from this school was invited, and then all ban around her, make their presence known to the little ponies, if they really had anything to do with that video?”
Ignoring Brisa’s question slash insinuation, I look at Kiki. “Did you say anything to Brand?”
She taps the speed control button down to a walking pace. “He leaves tomorrow for a few days, so no, I don’t want him to stress.”
“And you can’t go, anyway.” Brisa turns around.
The look in Kiki’s eyes tells me she has different plans.
“Kiki, you can’t risk—”
“I’m aware,” she interrupts me with an annoyed tone.
“Well, I’m not staying home if Max and Amias are going,” Tris states matter-of-factly.
“Like it would be a big stretch; you hardly leave your room. You’re either Snapchatting or FaceTiming Marcello Effisto,” Brisa picks on her sister.
Tris rolls her eyes. “He can deal with a few hours without me being stuck up his ass.”
“But can you?” Brisa challenges.
“Pfft, yeah.”
Tris and Marcello have been boyfriend and girlfriend since they were like two years old. It was super cute until she admitted a few years ago in front of Bella that he’d felt her up. The male members of the crew didn’t say a damn thing, since she let that little morsel out of the proverbial bag on a mission to get Bella to stop allowing Uncle Jase’s overprotective ways set a precedence for the rest of us. However, the next day was a totally different story altogether.
We were at a family friend’s wedding, on a yacht, and the boys threatened to throw him overboard. Marcello laughed in their faces when they hung him over the railing. When he pulled free and jumped himself, everyone flipped out, terrified they would get in trouble. Then, as only a second thought, freaking out that he might get eaten by some of the sharks that we’d spotted not half an hour ago, they told the ’rents that he had fallen. His father, Sabato, dove off and into the water, and our cousin Dominic had the captain stop and turn around. The boys were about shitting their pants, while Tris was screaming, crying about how much she loved him, and if he died, she would, too, and threatening to jump, as well.
Once he was back on the yacht, safe, and the adults were otherwise occupied, he told the boys that he was going to do more to Tris than feel her up; he was going to marry her one day, so they could fuck off. Since then, everyone, including the boys, have backed off. No one wants a Montague and Capulet type ending on their conscience.
A year later, Tris finally found out what really had happened—Marcello had never told her. Her only sentence to me for a week was, “You betrayed me.”
While we all celebrated the switching of schools, she mourned silently and denied it to each of us.
Let’s be honest here, those two most definitely need the distance, or Kiki’s pregnant at eighteen won’t be the biggest upset on the Steel playing field.
“BTW, Truth, Reeves does like you,” Tris states.
“No.” I laugh.
“Let us all