behind and starts pouring shots. The blonde continues to shoot me hostile looks. Not my problem though, because the second I'm done eating, I'm out of here.
The sandwich disappears and I pat my stomach appreciatively before snatching the latest shot one of the girls pours. "Hey!" I suck it back without looking at her—no salt, no lime. I don't care.
"Thanks," I say with a grin, slapping the glass back onto the counter as I head for the back door.
"You can't do that," someone says behind me.
With my hand on the door handle, I look back, focusing on the speaker. Of course, it's the blonde. She steps forward and eyes me. "Yeah?" I reply. "Who's going to stop me? You?" I turn to face her and cross my arms over my chest. "You're welcome to try."
"You're on lockdown," she says as if that means anything to me. Here’s a hint—it doesn’t. But I know it does to her and the rest of her cronies. So, I uncross my arms and give her my full undivided attention.
My lips part and I slip my tongue between my teeth, swishing it back and forth as I stare at her hard. "And?" I challenge.
A flush rises to her cheeks, anger heating them until even under the dim lighting, they look pink. "That means you're nothing," she spits back. "You're gravel beneath our feet. You don't belong here. They're going to punish you. They’ll make you wish you never set foot on our campus.”
I take a few steps forward and push down a grin as I watch one of the girls behind her take a wary step back. Smart girl, I think. Unlike her friends. I stop a few feet away and lean forward. Her gaze meets mine and lets her see just how fucking apathetic I feel. Whether there’s a dead look in my eyes or not, I know there’s one thing that she doesn’t have—complete and utter disdain. The kind that should make a person very cautious. Because the true form of darkness is indifference.
"Do I look punished to you?" I ask. "Or better yet, do I really look like I give a shit?" When she doesn't respond, I take a single step closer until our breasts brush against each other. She inhales sharply. "See, the thing is," I say, keeping my voice low and even, “you have to follow all of their little orders. You choose to do whatever they tell you. Know what that makes you?" Sheep. Little lost sheep. Lambs to the fucking slaughter. She narrows her eyes on me, waiting on me to say the words, but I don't. Instead, I wait to see her response. And it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.
"Whatever," she finally snaps, turning away. "It's only a matter of time before you're out. The Sick Boys own Eastpoint and if you don't line up and do what they say, sooner or later you'll be sent back to whatever whorehouse you crawled out of."
There was that ridiculous name again. They hadn’t yet done anything to show me just how sick they were. I was starting to think it was just a moniker and nothing more. That there was no substance to these preppy rich boys with an attitude and control issues.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," I say, batting my eyelashes, but I'm also not done talking to her and she's being fucking rude. I grab her arm and spin her back to face me. An outraged squawk, like something a vulture might make, erupts from her throat. I roll my eyes and then shove her away. Shock cloaks her features as she stumbles back. I follow. Her friends scramble to get out of the way until it's just me and the bitch. With her back pressed against the counter and cabinets, I get real close—just as close as I'd gotten with Abel that day in class. I can smell the tequila on her breath.
"I'll give you the same warning I gave them," I offer. Her eyes widen when I reach up and tap my fingers against her cheek as I continue. If I wanted to, I could probably dig my fingers into her eye socket and pluck it out. I could wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze and I doubt any of her friends would save her. Instead, I shove those violent cravings down and settle on my smile. Her limbs tremble next to mine. "You stay out of my way and