Tough Shit (Rejects Paradise 1)

“What are you talking about?” he demands, making the anger bubble up inside me which only pisses me off more. I’ve never had a guy make me regret climbing into bed with him until now. “I didn’t put them up to this.”

Jude scoffs. “Sexually harassed? They were just making crude comments and getting in your face. I’d hardly call that sexual harassment.”

I turn on him as the others seem to shut the hell up. “Are you kidding me? Unsolicited demands to get on my knees and suck someone’s dick is the definition of sexual harassment. Not to mention that in the last two minutes, my tits have been grabbed by fifty different hands, my ass has been squeezed, hands have slipped up my skirt, pulled on my underwear. What is the fucking matter with you? Oh, hold on. It only counts as sexual harassment with you once the deal is done and the cops are called.”

Colton steps in closer. “What are you talking about? They were just getting in your face.”

I shake my head but it’s Milo who speaks up. “Nah, man. It was fucking bad. You probably couldn’t see it from outside the circle but nearly every fucker in this goddamn cafeteria just copped a feel. It was fucking wrong. Someone put them up to this.”

I glare at Charlie who looks as though he’s about to be sick, but I couldn’t care less. His big mouth put me in this position and because of that, whatever we may or may not have shared over the weekend is long gone. “This is all on you.”

“Babe, I …”

He doesn’t get another word out before Colton’s large fist slams across his jaw. I duck, narrowly missing Charlie’s flailing arms as he falls back against Spencer. Colton keeps coming for him but Charlie isn’t one to sit back and take a beating—whether he deserves it or not.

Spencer and Jude quickly jump in though it’s unclear if they’re trying to break it up or land a few blows just for the hell of it. What I do know is that I need to get the hell out of here before I get nailed in the face and end up needing plastic surgery that I can’t pay for.

Milo grabs my wrist and yanks hard, pulling me away from the boys. “Come on,” he says, pulling me along toward the cafeteria door. “You need to get out of here before Dean Simmons finds a way to blame this shit on you.”

Fuck. He’s right.

I hurry out with him and after making a quick stop at my locker, I find myself down at the student parking lot with Milo’s Aston Martin keys firmly in the palm of my hand.

I drop down into the car and within seconds I’m peeling out of the parking lot, pissed at myself for being so upset that I can’t even take pleasure in this sweet ride. The same thing happened when I stole Colton’s Veneno. Why is it that every time I’m in an expensive car, it’s because I’m running?

This is bullshit.

I shouldn’t be running. I shouldn’t have to run. I did nothing wrong and because I’m a female, I’m going to be torn to shreds. Who cares if the boys send each other to the Emergency Room, who cares if the students thought it was appropriate to touch me, who cares if there’s a fucking brawl at the school? It’s all going to be pinned on me.

I need to get out of here but I have no other options. Though … that’s not entirely true. Nic would take me with open arms and he’ll give me the best kind of life that he can give. I should be thankful. I should be grabbing hold of that with both hands and not letting it go. After all, he loves me. I’m sure I’ll eventually be able to move past the whole cheating thing, but what happens when he takes over his father’s gang? That puts him right at the top with a target on his back. Hell, it would put a target on mine too.

That’s not a way to live.

I have to do something. I have to break free without breaking mom’s heart. I have to get out of here, but how? I have nowhere to go, no money, no car. I’m useless. I’m stuck.

I need a plan, but what?

Not graduating just seems stupid. Maybe I could hang around for the next few months, keep my head down, and try to get through high school. If I somehow manage to graduate, that already puts me higher than 50% of the kids back home. But what do I do then? Where will I go? I don’t have the cash to take me anywhere and the thought of going back home kind of hurts. I love it there and my crew, but I want to be better, I want more for myself. Especially now after seeing what else is out there. I can be better. I will be. I refuse to sell myself short.