Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,104

in a t-shirt and pair of jean shorts?"

She blinks at me for a moment. Brax steps forward. "She doesn't—" he starts, only to be interrupted.

"Actually, yeah," the girl says, capturing both of our attention. "Thought it was a little weird for someone to come here looking like that," she scoffs, and I resist the urge to tell her that her fake tits probably wouldn't look half as good in the second hand shit Avalon wears. "But yeah, she left a little while ago with a friend."

She left? I drop the girl’s arm and back away. She fucking left? Dimly, I hear Braxton talking to the girl, but I don't hear whatever it is that they say. All I know is that Avalon fucking left.

"Hey, man," Braxton's voice comes back to me as he clamps a hand on my shoulder and urges me out the front door. "I asked a little bit more. Sounds like Corina was here. It's okay. She probably just took her back to the dorms."

It didn't fucking matter if she left with Pope fucking Francis. The fact is that she fucking left—after I'd told her to stay put. This, I think. This is what I fucking meant by her going off and doing stupid shit. I shake Brax off and head for my Escalade.

"Where are you going?" he calls after me.

"Havers," I yell.

39

Avalon

I slam the flat of my palm against the wood of the door, pissed that I even forgot my key in the first place. "I'm fucking coming!" I hear Rylie curse on the other side and then the door is opening.

I don't wait for her to finish; I shove it in and storm past her, yanking my t-shirt off and dropping it to the floor as I sit on the edge of my mattress and reach for my boots.

"What's your problem?" she mutters, closing the door behind her.

One boot goes flying towards the closet—barely missing her as she crosses back to her side of the room—then the other follows. I don't answer her, and though I can feel her curious gaze on my back as she settles back beneath the covers of her bed, she doesn't ask again. For which I'm grateful. Even I don't know why I'm so mad.

I strip my shorts off and reach for an oversized t-shirt meant for sleep. Pulling it over my head, I crawl beneath the comforter, resting back and staring at the ceiling. It takes a while, but as the silence continues, it's not long until I hear Rylie's soft snores drifting over to me.

My muscles are tense, refusing to relax. I ball my hands into fists and wish I had my old principal's stress ball. That damn thing would get a work out with me. My anger simmers below the surface of my skin, and I can't seem to stop the carousel that my thoughts have jumped on. I close my eyes to escape the feeling, but it only gets worse. The problem is, once I've closed my eyes, it's almost impossible to open them back up again. So, I just lay there, stewing in my own furious confusion. Eyes closed. Body taut and mind a disorganized mess.

An image of Kate with her body against Dean's pops into my mind's eye. I repress a growl of irritation and roll onto my side, away from Rylie's soft sleep noises. How the fuck can she sleep with someone else in the room? I wonder absently. I've grown used to her enough that I can catch a few hours here and there, but it's been a while since I've had a truly full night's sleep and I doubt tonight will be that night.

Probably because I can't stop thinking about it. About him. About her. Fuck him, I think. I rear up without opening my eyes and punch at my pillow, mashing it under my head before slamming the side of my skull back into it.

Dean Carter can go to hell, and I'd be happy to send him there.

Several minutes go by—stretching into an unending cavern of time—and despite my resolute belief that I wouldn't sleep, the longer my eyes stay shut, the more my thoughts begin to drift out. My cheek presses into the fabric of my pillow and I turn into it, inhaling the scent. It's dry in the room. Too hot. It reminds me of another time and place where a different heat had settled over me, and maybe that's the reason why, when I do actually fall