She blows a long plume of smoke from her lips, pursed, smile full of bitterness. “Oh, I know exactly how you treat a girl.”
I look at the girl in front of me, trying so hard to be unaffected by everything mean and harsh and cold that she’s turning into it herself. “Sydney,” I say, willing her to believe the sincerity of my words, “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wasn’t feeling it. I’m sorry if I didn’t handle it right.” For a moment, that aloof exterior of hers cracks, eyes going round and sad. I almost feel bad about taking advantage of it. “Heston wants to hurt. It’s what he likes. You understand that, don’t you? Maybe you’re into that, maybe you aren’t. You’re right, it isn’t really any of my business.” I give her a long, meaningful look. “Just like what happens here at school—whoever I might be seeing at the moment—isn’t any of his. Know what I mean?”
Instantly, any trace of vulnerability in her expression slams shut. “So that’s what this is really about.”
Fuck. Subtle has never been my strong suit. “You told him about me being friends with Vandy.”
Her eyes spark in anger. “Vandy is shit, and you know what? I’m sick of all you fawning all over her like she’s the second coming. She’s not so special. You’ll figure that out when she stabs you in the back, just like she did to me.”
Her words are cutting and make me want to fight back, because Sydney Rakestraw is the last person to bring someone’s sense of loyalty into question. But I don’t bother, because I’m realizing now that she didn’t tell Heston about our friendship because she was pissed at me. It was because she’s pissed at Vandy.
She scoffs. “I don’t give a shit who you’re boning, Bass. Fuck a light socket for all I care. I’m on to bigger and better things. Emphasis on bigger.”
Telling her about the video is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back. What if it was consensual and she’s into that kind of thing? It’s not impossible. Syd’s always been a little wild, but that video…there’s something about it that just bothers the shit out of me, even if it was consensual. I waver, but know that she’s right. Who am I to judge?
“Good luck,” I tell her. “Go inside and get warm. If he shows up, he can find you in there.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Sebastian.”
Her nose is red from the cold and there’s no doubt she’s freezing her ass off, but I walk off anyway. I cut across campus and back over to the tower. Emory is just inside the entrance.
“Shit, did anyone see you come down here?” he asks, looking over my shoulder. It’s cold as a snowman’s dick, so I push past him and jog down the staircase to the Devils lair.
“Nah, I doubled back. But I th
ink the Admin is still in the gym trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.” I don’t mention Sydney, because what is there to say? I enter the room and see that other guys are already down here in the process of changing. None of them went all out with the body paint like I did.
Jesus. Altercations with Sydney aside, what a fucking rush.
Part of it was that I’d finally—fucking finally—gotten the all-clear from my doctor earlier that day. No more worries about being careful all the time. No having to coddle myself. No sitting on the sidelines anymore, restless and agitated.
But a bigger part was just pulling something off with my boys. With my girls. It’s been too long.
“Good job, man,” Carlton says, changing shirts. He’d been one of the other masked devils and the hair around his temples is still damp with sweat. “I hope someone gets a video of the Headmaster’s expression when he realizes his halftime show was hijacked.”
Emory walks into the lair and shuts the door behind him. He approaches me, fist out. I bump mine against his and he grins. “Dude, you should’ve been the mascot all year. You killed it!”
I scoff. “That’s a pussy position. I’d rather be on the field than on the sidelines.”
“How do you think Sugar took being the winner?” Tyson asks. “She looked a little stunned.”
“Oh, she’s going to be pissed. She’s probably already trying to return it,” I reply. “Too bad that money came out of our funds and not the school’s. There’s no one to return it to.”
“Have you said anything to her about it?” Reyn asks, buttoning his shirt. “You know, the Devils.”
I give him a stony look. “I’m not a squealer. You know that.”
“What if she recognized you?” Emory asks, eyebrow arched. “You were right in front of her—half naked. You think she didn’t recognize your body? She would, right?”
It’s a loaded question, and I don’t know why Em doesn’t just come out and ask if Sugar and I have had sex yet. He probably doesn’t want to be on the other side of my temper if it doesn’t land right.
“If she recognized me, I’ll deal with it.”
The others leave first and I change quickly, wanting to go up and find her. To be honest, I wasn’t even expecting her to come to the game. If that happened, we wouldn’t have given away the big prize at all. Everyone agreed to give it to Sugar. None of the other assholes around here deserve or need it. I know the way she’d see it, though—as charity.
My phone buzzes and I pick it up.
Sugar: Leaving the gym. Where are you?