Because I know there’s no point arguing with him when he’s like this, I open the car door and step out.
“Want me to walk you—”
“No,” I snap, cutting him off. “I’ll be fine.”
Because no one knows the old Bianca here.
I slam the door with my crutch. “Thanks for the ride.”
Cole sticks his head out the passenger side window. “Remember, if anyone messes with you, punch them in the crotch and call us.”
“Got it.” I flutter my fingers. “Buh-bye.”
It’s not that I’m not appreciative, I just need a little breathing room.
They make no motion to leave, which no doubt means they’re going to watch me walk inside.
Sighing, I adjust my crutches and start hobbling across the parking lot.
I glance around. If I thought my closet was full of revealing clothing, it’s nothing compared to what some of these girls are wearing.
There’s so much bare skin, I feel out of place in my jeans and the t-shirt I borrowed from Dylan.
I’m so focused on everyone else instead of where I’m walking, I slam into someone as I enter the building.
“Watch it, slut,” some girl sneers.
I take in her thin frame, long curly brown hair, dramatic makeup, and pointy talons that seem to go on forever.
The girl looks like she can easily kick my ass from here all the way back to the other side of town if she wanted to.
“Sorry.”
She gets uncomfortably close to my face. “You should be.”
I want to scream because it seems like no matter what high school I attend, there’s always a Queen B.
I notice the small group of girls behind her. And her minions.
“Come on, Mercedes,” one of them urges. “Kick her ass already so we can go.”
The girl—who I assume must be Mercedes—smiles smugly as she appraises me from head to toe. “Looks like someone already did.”
Yup, and I’m not in the mood for a repeat performance.
“Look, I really don’t want any problems.” I gesture to the paper in my hand. “I just want to find my locker.”
Before I can stop her, she yanks the paper from my hand and scans it.
Her eyes darken before they narrow.
I’m about to ask what the problem is, but she rips the paper to shreds and shoves past me.
Awesome.
“If you have any questions or concerns, I want you to feel free to come straight to me,” Mrs. Rodriguez—the principal—tells me.
The second I walked into the office for a new schedule, she called me inside hers.
And she’s been talking non-stop ever since.
“Thanks.” I glance at the clock. Homeroom is going to end any minute. “I should probably get going.”
“Not so fast, I’m still waiting on your student pal.”
“My student pal?”
I have no idea what that is.
“Yes.” She wipes crumbs of donut off her mouth and licks her finger. “Your father told me about your unique circumstances, and I felt the best thing to do was to set you up with someone from the Peer Assistance Program. This way, you’ll have someone to walk you to all your classes for the first few days and show you around.”
“Oh.” All things considered; it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea. “Thank—”
She looks past me. “Here he is now.” Frantically, she waves her hands. “Hey, Stone, come on in. I’d like you to meet Bianca Covington.”
Stone hovers around five-ten, with a slim build, short jet-black hair, a chiseled jaw, and well…a very attractive face.
However, it’s the anger harboring in his dark brown eyes that suck all the oxygen out of the room.
I have no idea who he is, but the venom behind his stare is unnerving.
“Hi.” I hold out my hand, hoping to make nice. “I’m Bianca.”
“Fuck off.”
Well, then.
Mrs. Rodriguez nearly chokes on her donut. “Stone, is there a problem?”
“Yeah, there is. I’m sorry, Mrs. Rodriguez, but you’re gonna need to find someone else. I can’t—”
“Why?” I interject. “Why can’t you show me around?”
The anger in those brown orbs kicks up a notch. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Does he know me? Because it sure seems like he does.
And if that’s the case, I need to know what I did to piss him off because I don’t want to face another situation like the one at RHA.
“Look, I don’t know what I did to upset yo—”
“Jesus Christ.” His jaw works. “You’re a real piece of work.”
With that, he hightails it out of the office.
“I’m so sorry. He’s never been like thi—” Mrs. Rodriguez starts to say, but I’m already chasing after him.
Well, as much as I can with my crutches.
“Stone, wait,” I call out. “Please.”
He keeps walking.
“Look, I’m sorry for whatever I might have done to you.”
That has him turning around. “Seriously?”
I blink. “Yes?”
Grimacing, he leans in. “All right, cut the shit. What the fuck are you really doing here?”
Drawing in a deep breath, I tell him the truth. “A couple of months ago, I was in a car accident and in addition to a broken pelvis, I have amnesia. I can only remember little bits and pieces of my life and those bits and pieces come at random. I used to attend Royal Hearts Academy, but apparently I pissed off a bunch of people there and—” I point to my still bruised face and black eye. “This was the result.”
There. It’s all out in the open.
He starts howling with laughter. “Man, I always knew you were batshit, but this?” He holds up his hands. “This is on a whole new level.”
To say I’m confused would be an understatement. “Batshit?”
“Yeah.” He swirls his finger around his ear. “Batshit crazy.”
“I know what batshit means, I’m just trying to figure out why…or rather, what I did to make you feel that way about me.”
Leaning against a locker, he studies my face for what feels like an eternity. “You’re shitting me, right?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, I’m not shitting you.”
His tongue finds his cheek. “Well, for starters, how about the time you photoshopped a baby dick onto my body and then spread it around like herpes to our entire freshman class?”
I wince.
Bianca sure stirred up a lot of shit.
He starts ticking things off with his fingers. “There was also the time you and your brother showed up at my job and assaulted my boss—who you spread lies about by the way—before your brother beat the fuck out of me for no reason.”
Well, shit. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He pulls a face. “And I still haven’t forgotten that night at the marina—” He averts his gaze. “On second thought, that’s not important. All that matters is that it also resulted in Cole attacking me once again at my job.”
The hurt look on his face tells me whatever happened that night does in fact matter. “What happened at the marina?”