“Tatum Brandt!”

What the…?

I halted in the lunchroom at the sound of someone calling her name.

I had spied Sam and his friend Gunnar at our usual table, and I’d just gotten done grabbing a drink and sandwich when I’d heard a low voice yelling very loudly.

I zoned in on Madoc, facing away from me, f**king kneeling in the middle of the room!

“Will you please go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he shouted, and when I followed where he was looking, I clenched my fingers, destroying the sandwich in my hand.

Shiiiit.

A very surprised Tate had turned around, her shoulders tensed and eyes avoiding everyone else’s like she was more annoyed than embarrassed.

Tate couldn’t stand Madoc.

Oh, what the hell was he doing now?

The packed cafeteria hushed to a silence.

Madoc walked on his knees up to Tate and took her hand.

A few giggles sounded around the room, and a push and pull force was battling in my limbs.

Move! He’s pursuing her. He’s always wanted her.

No, stay put. He’s your friend. He wouldn’t do that.

“Please, please! Don’t say no. I need you,” he yelled, more to the audience than Tate, and everyone erupted in laughs and cheers, egging him on.

“Please, let’s make this work. I’m sorry for everything,” he continued, and I could see Tate looking down at him, wide-eyed and flushed, like she was sick.

Sick and pissed.

She mumbled something to him I couldn’t hear, and then he shouted, “But the baby needs a father!”

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

My stomach dropped, and everything in the room turned red.

Tate’s face fell, and the crowd hollered their enjoyment of Madoc’s spectacle.

Her lips moved, but only just barely.

What the hell was she saying to him?

He seemed f**king pleased, because he stood up and enveloped her in his arms, swinging her around to the delight of the audience.

Everyone whistled and applauded, and I threw my lunch in the trash without even looking.

She’d said yes?

I turned around and stalked out before he’d even put her down.

Chapter 25

“Goddammit!” Madoc howled as his hand shot up to his face, and he crashed backwards to the row of lockers behind him.

We shared P.E. together, and I hadn’t even waited for him to make eye contact before I’d run up and clocked him right in the eye.

The class in the locker room got out of the way, and I stepped over the bench to sit down in front of my best friend who’d slid to the floor.

I rested my elbows on top of my knees and looked down at him.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, and it was the truth. “But you do know you’re pushing me, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting with one hand over his eye.

He always pushed me, and it pissed me off, but I knew why he was doing it. He wanted me to act. To grovel at Tate’s feet and make her want me.

But she’d said yes.

That pissed me off, too.

Me not even thinking to ask her to the dance myself pissed me off.

I hated dances.

I hated dancing.

But thanks to me, Tate didn’t go to things like that in the past, and she obviously wanted to.

A bitter taste settled in my mouth.

It’s the taste you get right before your choke down a mouthful of pride.

“Hey, Dr. Porter.” I ran into my sophomore year Chemistry teacher in the hallway after school. “Is Tatum Brandt working in the lab today?” I gestured to the door behind him.

“Yes,” he blurted out, wide-eyed and looking oddly relieved to see me. “She is. But it just occurred to me that she’s alone. Are you free? Would you mind spotting her? I’m usually there, but I have a meeting.”

“Alone?” My jaw twitched with a pent-up smile. “No problem.”

He kept walking, and I opened the lab door, my heart already rushing with the promise of the kind of trouble I wanted to drown in.

The room was empty, but I heard shuffling and clattering coming from the supply closet, so I took the seat at the teacher’s table and propped my feet up, waiting for her.

The lab was on the larger side of the classrooms at the school. It held about twelve tables with two to three seats per table. The tops were lined with beakers and flasks, burners and sinks.

I liked the tables.

They were a good height.

I half-laughed, half-sighed at the images floating through my head.

Jesus Christ.

I’d never fantasized about a girl the way I did with Tate, but I was getting ahead of myself. She may never let me get to second base again, let alone third.

Running my hands through my hair, I hooked my fingers behind my head and tried thinking about the Lifetime Movie Channel to keep my dick in check.

The closet door swung open, and Tate stepped out with a crate of supplies in her arms.

Her hair was parted in the middle today, and it flowed around her face and body, partially obscuring her eyes.

But she saw me.

Even through the blonde wisps, I could pick out the storm.

Her legs stilled, and she looked surprised, unnerved, and a little pissed.

We had the same effect on each other.

“Not now, Jared. I’m busy,” she warned as she carried her crate to a table off to my right. Her tone was steady and curt.

She was putting me in my place.

“I know. I came to help you.”

It was a lie, but I guess I could help her. I knew my shit in Chemistry as well as Math. It was the touchy feely subjects like English and Psychology that bit my ass.