see the depth of how Connor manipulated me, the hot and sometimes sweet morning and evening messages twisted and poisoned by the truth.
How could I have gotten the number wrong?
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself on repeat since the encounter with him.
Never in a million years would I ever want to be with Connor Bishop the way I thought I was progressing my relationship with Wyatt, upgrading from fling-adjacent to bonafide boyfriend and girlfriend status.
Goes to show me, assuming without ever talking about it. I’m so fucking naïve, playing right into Connor’s cruel hands. My throat hurts, tight with emotion when I swallow.
I fight the urge to bury my face in my arms. It’s pointless to hide from the truth—that my bully and my neighbor is the same guy I’ve been fantasizing about and having phone sex with. Well, text sex. But still. Lots of sexy stuff has gone down between us.
“Oh my god,” I mumble in horror when it occurs to me I know what his dick looks like. I’ve seen him come.
This time I give in and cover my flaming hot face.
My hands burn with the urge to knead something to calm my breathing. I wonder if I can spend the rest of the lunch period in the culinary classroom to bake something before my next class starts. I’m in the mood for bread. Maybe Mrs. Horne will let me hide out there for a while.
It would be the first time I’ve ever skipped a class, but I think the circumstances justify a break before I crumble under the emotional pressure weighing on my shoulders, stabbing at my heart with fresh reminders.
“Oh great,” Maisy says in a flat tone, grabbing my attention.
Usually she’s hard to ruffle, so it takes a lot to draw a reaction like that from her. Her gaze is locked on the doors and I swing around to see what’s got her twisted up.
A tall, imposing boy stalks through the cafeteria. Dark hair hangs over his forehead and he wears a leather jacket and heavy boots, completely disregarding the school uniform. His face is set in angry lines, mouth turned down as he glares at any student that dares look his way.
“Who is that?” I ask, not recognizing him.
“Wilder,” Maisy says quietly. “Fox Wilder. He’s in my grade, but he’s supposed to be in yours. They held him back when he came back.”
“Came back?”
“He used to live here.” Her expression is distant and sad. “A long time ago, when Holden and I were kids. He was our friend.”
Wilder sweeps his gaze over the room, landing on Maisy. It seems impossible, but his face grows angrier. Maisy lifts her hand, waving. Wilder jerks his head and moves to the corner where her older brother, Holden, sits with guys from the football team.
“I don’t think he remembers you, Maise,” I say carefully.
She remains quiet, sighing and crossing her arms. “Guess not. He’s been cold every time I try to say hi, but he’s been hanging around Holden since he moved back to Ridgeview. I don’t know what I did. It was so long ago, we were only kids when…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Never mind. Oh crap. Drama alert.”
Maisy nods with her chin and I glance toward Connor’s table. My heart falls when I realize how quiet the center tables have gone, and why.
Blair Davis, the dark-haired scholarship student at Silver Lake High that seems like a punching bag for the rich, popular crowd, stands stock still in front of Devlin Murphy. He’s sprawled in his seat before her like an evil king, expression hard and commanding. I watch as Blair lifts the water thermos in her hand and dumps it over herself.
What the hell!
Heinous cackles erupt from Connor and Devlin’s crowd of friends. Water drips from Blair’s hair and her uniform shirt is soaked right through.
“Oh no,” I mumble, already reaching for napkins from a holder on the table. “Not again. Why can’t they leave her alone?”
“Assholes,” Maisy hisses.
The whole cafeteria claps and taunts, cheering the drama on.
It fires me up that no one is willing to act. “I’m going to help.”
“Wet dog alert!” Someone shouts from the other tables surrounding the central popular one. They call more vile things and make kissing sounds at Blair’s back, like they’re calling a dog.
Connor pops up from his perch on top of the table and slides in next to Devlin, muttering in his ear with a matching smirk as his friend.
He’s just as vile