That knowledge only makes me more of a pathetic loser than Sloane thinks I am.
“Can I give you a piece of advice?” she sneers.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
Ignoring me, she continues. “Go back to wherever you came from. No one wants you here.”
She’s not wrong, that does seem to be the general consensus.
“You know,” I retort, “I was kind of wondering about the lukewarm reception I’ve received. Thanks for explaining it to me.”
That response wipes the smile off her face. “Hawthornes aren’t welcome here,” she growls.
My voice grows stronger. “I guess that’s what you’d call an ironic situation considering that the town, company, and school are named after us.”
A few tinkers of laughter erupt in the swelling crowd. Sloane glares, and the sound dies a quick death. When she steps toward me, I scooch back as Kingsley grabs her around the arms and drags her away.
“Let’s go.” His cool gaze falls on my person, freezing me on the spot. “She’s not worth your time.”
His indifference sends a bolt of pain shooting through me.
As if realizing that Kingsley has his arms wrapped around her, Sloane melts against his body, giving him her full attention. “You’re so right.” She flicks her narrowed gaze at me before smiling at him. “Hopefully, the trash will take itself out.”
Ouch.
In this scenario, it’s obvious that I’m the trash she’s referring to.
After they vanish through the sea of gawkers, everyone disbands. I draw in a breath and rise to my feet before picking up my books. My shoulders collapse when the bell rings, signaling the start of third hour.
No matter what I do, I can’t seem to win. Relief rushes through me when I spot a bathroom down the hall. I need a few moments to collect myself in private. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
Once safely inside the small room, I fight back the tears that sting my eyelids before splashing cold water on my face and patting it dry with a paper towel. After my emotions have been locked down tight, I glance at the mirror above the sink.
I’m disturbed by the reflection that greets me.
There’s a hollowed out look in my dark eyes and my face is thinner than it was a couple of weeks ago. Most days, my stomach is tied up in knots, making it impossible to eat breakfast or lunch. At dinner, I pick at my food, pushing it around my plate to cover up how little I’m fueling my body. And I’m running more. Other than stargazing, it’s the only thing that allows me to forget about how shitty my life has become. It’s a bit of a shock to realize that I’m slowly becoming a shell of my former self.
I grip the sink basin with my fingers as my head rolls forward.
Keep it together.
Thoughts of skipping out for the rest of the day flood through my mind. More like the rest of the year. But I refuse to allow these assholes to jack with my future. So, as much as I don’t want to go to third hour, there’s no other choice in the matter. With a huff of breath, I push out of the bathroom door before skidding to a halt.
Chapter Fourteen
Icy cold tendrils of fear squeeze my heart when I find Kingsley leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed against his chest. The anger simmering in his eyes intensifies as his gaze pins me in place.
How is this cruel boy the same one I fell for at the beginning of summer?
He doesn’t say a word as he pushes away from the bank of lockers before sauntering toward me.
Run!
Instead of listening to the voice inside my head, I remain paralyzed. When he’s close enough to reach out and touch me, I blink to awareness and take a hasty step away. The need to put as much distance between us pumps through me and I retreat until my back hits the bathroom door with a painful thud. Panic slides through me when I realize there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped in a small alcove by the bathroom. Even if a teacher stepped out of their classroom and looked down the hallway, they wouldn’t see us.
A merciless smile lifts his lips as he invades my personal space until I’m flattened against the door.
He leans one arm against the wood, partially caging me in. “Afraid, Hawthorne?”
“No.”
Deathly.
I have no idea what he’s capable of. And that’s a scary realization.
He chuckles before picking up the thick length of my ponytail and playing with the blunt end of it. “You should be.”
My mouth dries, making it impossible to swallow. When my tongue darts out to moisten my parched lips, his gaze drops to the movement. Desire flashes in his eyes and I find that more unsettling than his hostility.