I glare at the traitorous orchards as I wait.
Until two nights ago, I liked the seclusion of the trees that surround us, blocking us from the outside world, but the dark blanket it provides helped her get out without tipping us off to what direction she went.
Where’d you go, baby, and why you pulling away?
I groan, running my hands down my face.
She’s making me a weak bitch. Maybe the distance she’s forcing is what I need to fucking detach a little.
Maybe I should tie her ass to the bed, legs spread, arms out, and show her some pretty pain to make her talk?
A grunt leaves me, and I hit the steering wheel, hiding my eyes behind my shades as the three exit the house.
They slide into their seats, and knowing something is happening with Perkins, we skip the donut shop and are pulling into the parking lot of the school in minutes.
“What’s our plan here?” Royce questions angrily.
“No plan,” I tell him. “We go in and figure out what the fuck is going on.”
Royce nods and steps ahead, Raven following behind him.
Cap trails a little slower, so I stay at his pace, meeting his stare when he looks to me. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
I frown at the building thinking the same damn thing.
“Let’s go.”
Leo meets us at the door, Royce already standing there grilling him, Raven at his side.
“Coach is out now, but they’re already in the gym getting ready for the assembly,” he tells us.
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “I forgot about that shit.”
Leo nods. “I think you should wait until after.”
“I think you should keep your thoughts to yourself,” Royce bites back with what the three of us are thinking.
Leo tenses, but quickly shakes it off, moving out of the way with a tight shrug.
I meet Cap’s stare.
“Let’s go in, we’ll pull his ass out.” Royce yanks the door open and we step through.
Soon as we’re inside, the bell rings and people rush to take a seat, but we head straight for Coach.
He quickly breaks from Perkins and rushes our way, his face etched in anger. “Sit. And stay sitting.”
“Talk, and talk now,” I demand.
He glares but does as he’s told. “Your dad called. I’ll explain, but I need you boys not to fight me on this, no matter how bad you want to.” He looks between the three of us, his eyes pausing a brief moment on Raven before he walks off only to turn back one more time. “Sit.”
Royce’s jaw clenches, but he only groans and moves for our seats – the first-row of bleachers in the center of the rest.
Captain moves next.
Coach Brail is one of the only people we trust around here when we’re forced to count on other people, but even I admit right now it’s real fucking hard to keep my cool when tension is so fucking high between us all. To say we’re on edge is an under-fucking-statement.
The office lady turns to usher Raven off, but I stop her before she can speak on it. “She sits with us.”
The woman clamps her mouth shut and gives a tight-lipped nod.
As soon as I drop my ass down, Coach catches my eye, narrowing his own. He tips his chin.
“The fuck’s he trying to say, Madman?” Royce hisses beside me.
I shake my head slowly. “I have no fucking clue, but he wants us to stay in line.”
“Fuck him,” Royce quips and I can’t say I’m not on the same wavelength of thinking. “It’s our fucking line, he’s lucky we let his ass on it.”
The crowd dies down as Perkins pulls the microphone to his mouth.
“Good morning everyone,” he addresses the room. “It’s an exciting time, and even with our ... unexpected and disappointing loss this week, we’re going into playoffs tonight as the number one seed over Graven Prep.”
The students go fucking nuts, shouting out their excitement while Perkins looks pissed we still managed to pull ahead based on points earned and points allowed through the season.
Fuck him.
Perkins goes over some bullshit about the hype the next few weeks will bring, reminding everyone that school work comes first and other shit he doesn’t believe in but preaches to save face, and then the music starts, and he moves aside as the cheerleaders take center court.
Chloe, front and fucking center as always, makes damn sure not to cut her eyes our way while she shakes her ass or pops her tits in some sex-infused move she’s thrown in the middle of their routine.
They do some crazy acrobatic shit and people go nuts whistling and clapping.
“Now that’s some flexibility,” Mac muses a few spaces down and Royce chuckles.
He ain’t lying. The cheer squad, or dance team you could call them, has won at state the last three years, ever since Chloe started choreographing. She never lets anyone fucking forget it.