I should really ask Gina what her plans are.

  And Kyle too.

  “You okay kiddo?”

  “Mmhmm,” I nod quickly. Well, not quite. I sigh, looking up. “Dad, I need to tell you something else.”

  He braces himself for another bombshell. I’m hoping the shrapnel will hurt less.

  “I might not be going to college this year.”

  “What?” He frowns.

  “I…don’t know. I applied to UCLA and a couple of other colleges out of state,” my gaze flashes up to his, gauging his reaction. The pinched expression doesn’t tell me he’s jumping for joy. “I don’t even know what I want to - go to college, that is. I don’t know if I even want to college.”

  “You applied for colleges out of state? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I exhale softly, unsure of my words. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “What are you talking about, Ken? Of course it matters, you told me you where applying in-state -”

  “It’s not like you need me here,” I shrug, fiddling with my food.

  “Ken -“

  “And it’s not that bad. I might end up going or I might not get in but I need some time to figure out what I want. I’ve got a good GPA, teachers who can vouch for me…I just don’t know what I want. I just needed you to know where I’m at right now.”

  Dad leans back in his chair. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that,” he scratches his head.

  “Bullying you get, but applying out of state you don’t?” I lift my brow.

  He gives me a pointed look. “It’s the secrecy, Ken. I wished you told me earlier but I suppose better late than never. Better knowing now than finding out when you’re moved out to another city and all I get is phone call.”

  “I wouldn’t do that!” I exclaim.

  He shrugs but I can see the glimmer of hurt there. I thought he wouldn’t be concerned if I left. Nothing about interactions suggested otherwise but then despite everything, he’s still my dad. A dad that crashed into my life when my mom was gone but my dad nonetheless; he could have bailed again, he could have left me to it.

  Instead, he stuck around.

  He stayed.

  And that’s got to count for something.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The next month, I make a decision.

  I decide to choose violence.

  Call it a death wish but I’m just following my dad’s advice.

  “Hey, assholes!” I shout. The seniors in the hallway give me a weird look, watching as I stride down the hallway. Madison, Roman and Gina stare as I approach, a mixture of emotions from the three of them. Hunter and Dawson close their lockers, joining the group to take a good view.

  I don’t care; let them watch.

  The bucket of red paint in my hands flies right towards Madison, smearing her body in crimson liquid. Her mouth opens in shock. Paint drips from her skin, building a puddle around her. Gina looks on in amazement. She’s laughing in giddy bewilderment. Roman’s eyes are wide with shock, glued to my figure.

  “You fucking -“

  “Better wash your mouth out with soap, Madison. Better yet, your face would be a good start,” I shrug, dumping the bucket at her feet.

  The people around us are twisted in laughter, muffling their shock as they gape at the scene of a bloody Madison. I’m still shocked this isn’t a dream. I really did this.

  Me.

  I threw paint over Madison Miller.

  Gina laughs hysterically, bending her knees. “Oh my God, Kennedy!”

  Hunter and Dawson laugh, trying to put on a sympathetic face. “Ah, shit, Madison -“

  “Shut up!” She screeches wildly. Her eyes are bulging with fury. She points her perfectly manicured finger my way. “You! You’re going to pay for this, you fucking -“ She lunges towards me, but a hand travels in the front of me waist, pulling me back. A tall figure steps in front of me, shielding me from banshee Madison.

  Kyle.

  His muscular back rippled in that black shit is all I see. He turns to me, those concerned eyes pierce right through my soul. “Are you okay?”

  I’m too shocked to speak but just nod dumbly.

  Where did he come from?

  Has he been here the whole time?

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Madison scoffs. Her gaze is trained on Kyle. “Kyle, she -“

  “I don’t care,” he booms.

  I jolt slightly. I’ve never heard him this angry before.

  “You don’t ever touch her again,” he takes a set forward, his chest tight and taut with tension.

  “Dude,” Hunter laughs awkwardly, putting his hand on Kyle’s shoulder but Kyle smacks his hand away. Hunter flinches, burned by the action.

  Roman watches with a stony expression, brimming with an unspoken emotion. His eyes follow Kyle before training them on me. His stare is fixed. Almost as though he’s accusing me of something again.

  It’s stifling.

  “What’s up with you, man?” Dawson frowns. He looks at me with sharp stare. “It’s just Hinch. She’s the one who threw the first shot -“

  “I don’t care,” Kyle snaps.

  The hall goes quiet. No-one speaks for a good few seconds. Shocked by the turn of their ally.

  Kyle Matthews. One of their own. Speaking out against them, protecting the school loser. That same loser that humiliated their queen bee.

  This just doesn’t happen.

  Not in this universe.

  “I know what you all did that night,” he says coldly. “Who’s smart idea was that?”

  The group goes quiet, sheepishly not really looking at Kyle. All of their eyes hold a shrivel of guilt, responsible in their own ways for my humiliation. If it wasn’t prom, it was something else. And right now, Kyle is not in the forgiving mood.

  It’s weird.

  It’s like they’re walking on eggshells around him.

  Afraid of something lurking there.

  Gina said nothing about his issues. He was going through something. Something they all knew about that they refused to acknowledge.

  Is that what it is?

  Is the Kyle they’re worried about? Standing right before me?

  “Do I have to beat it out you all?” Kyle clenches his fist.

  Madison’s face drops, her mouth opening and closing with nervousness. It’s the first time I’ve seen her like this.

  Roman steps forward, acting as a protector for Madison too. It’s comical almost; the mirror image of us both with the six foot tall giant football players protecting us.

  His jaw is taut, tilted upwards as he stares unflinchingly at his friend. His blue eyes - that are so cold and cutting - are relaxed with this careful, calm emotion.

  “It was all me.”

  Kyle throws the first punch.

  His fist collides with Roman with a sickening thud, sending a huge jock like Roman staggering back as he fights for his balance. He recovers quickly though, preparing for the next attack. Kyle lunges forward, tackling Roman to the floor but Roman anticipates his next move, dodging his punches and sending one right back. Kyle falters at the impact and Roman flips him round, putting his arm against Kyle’s neck. Kyle stops, breathing heavily, straining against Roman’s arm.

  Madison and some of the other girls are exclaiming, shouting for him to stop. Hunter and Dawson move forward trying to pull Roman off Kyle. Roman’s like a man possessed, he’s brimming with fury as he traps Kyle in his hold.

  “Let him go, dude -” Hunter growls.

  “Let go of him!”

  My voice rings loud.

  Roman flinches, dropping his hold over Kyle. Kyle grunts, leaning back as he regains his composure.

  Kyle’s anger is sudden, unexpected and washing away the calm he normally brings in those charming, heartbreaking grins. Kyle Matthews melts hearts. He doesn’t twist them. His boyish smiles and muscular arms were built for never-ending kisses and hugs. His anger burns the hearts that hold him tight.

  But Roman’s temper terrifies me the most. It always will. It’s calm, patient and cold. It will knock his friend to the floor, rendering him trapped until he’s on his last legs. His anger won’t hesitate.

  Roman’s anger is non-discriminate.

  He won’t hesitate to inflict pain on his closest friends.

  My hands tremble. Wracked with fear. This wasn’t the outcome I wanted. I never wanted this. I only wanted Madison to pay for what she did. I only wanted Roman and his crew to feel the wrath of my fury.

  Instead, I feel nothing but cracks and ridges in a friendship.

  Damage.

  Damage that I caused.

  “What on earth is going on!”

  Principal Carmichael’s voice booms loudly, scattering away the crowds who watched on helplessly. It just leaves the seven of us.

  Roman puts his hand out for Kyle to take but Kyle ignores it, getting himself up. I don’t miss the flash of hurt in Roman’s eyes. Madison wipes away the dripping red paint over her face, assembling her hair together, trying to look somewhat presentable. It would be hilarious if we weren’t in this situation.

  “Principal Carmichael, it’s all her fault!” She points at me indignantly. “She started all of this!”

  He narrows his stare. “Kennedy?”

  “She threw paint all over me and got the boys riled up over it! She started it!”

  “Is that true?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yes. It’s true.”

  Carmichael sighs, taking off his glasses as he rubs his eyes. “Hinch, Johnson, Matthews and Miller - all of you, get to my office now.” He looks at Gina, Hunter and Dawson. “Are you responsible too?”

  The boys shake their head, scuttling away. Gina bravely takes a step forward. “I am.”

  He beckons to his office. “Then right this way, Miss Velasquez.”

  —-

  All of us are seated outside the Principal’s office. It’s a surreal scene. Madison Miller doused in red, Kyle and Roman with bruises and a bloody lip, Gina biting her nails indifferently and I’m wedged right on the end. Talk about a group of misfits.

  “This is all your fault,” Madison hisses my way.

  “Shut up, Madison,” Gina says.

  She lets out an indignant squeak. “And whose side are you on?”

  “The one where I don’t get to sit in the principal’s office.”

  “You didn’t have to volunteer to be here,” she scoffs.

  “Just give it a rest already,” Roman sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. His eyes are closed. From this angle, he looks somewhat innocent. The lashes that frame those cold eyes flutter against his skin, his chin and jaw defined like a supermodel.

  Not fair.

  I shake my head. Don’t think about this guy.

  With a tentative glance, I peek at Kyle’s form. He’s stoic, still and his stare is brimming with this restlessness. His mind looks like its anywhere but here.

  “Miller, Matthews, Velasquez,” Carmichael comes out of his office. He tilts his head inside and the three of them follow suit. Madison doesn’t hesitate to send a death glare my way.

  Once the door shuts, my breath hitches.

  Alone again.

  With him.

  The secretary is still there, providing some comfort that I’m not completely alone. It’s only when she glances at her watch, and stands up that I realise she’s heading out of the room for a moment.

  Now, I’m alone.

  Roman has the same idea that I have; his stare is fixed onto my skin. The shiver of goosebumps rocket down my spine. I turn, glancing at him with a careful stoicism.

  He’s not entirely angry.

  He’s just staring.

  Searing. Relentless.

  I got to get out of here.

  Bolting out of my seat, I open the door out of the office. I look behind my shoulder. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

  I’m walking down the hallway, striding away to get some air until I hear a pair of footsteps behind me. I swivel on the spot, watching as Roman follows suit. He grabs my hand, pulling me forward, leading me into an empty classroom.

  He pushes me roughly inside, shutting the door. His back rests against it, his muscular arms crossed tightly. Roman gives me a brooding stare.

  “You and I need to talk, Hinch.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Roman’s thunderous gaze never leaves me, his chest heaving with barely restrained tension. I don’t give him the satisfaction of my fear.

  “You’re becoming the bane of my existence, Hinch,” he murmurs softly.

  The words naturally come out but there’s no venomous sneer, no curl of his mouth to show his disgust. It’s a quiet statement, hidden with an emotion I can barely make out.

  His famous temper is normally always on display, especially when he’s around me. Before it was mostly Madison with her acidic taunts and pushes and shoves while Roman always stood on the sidelines, his cold stare doing enough damage to my self-esteem. But for the last month or so, he went out of his way to make me feel his presence.

  “You have no idea how much I feel the same way,” I say.

  Roman stays quiet and the tension annoys me more than anything. He dragged me here in this classroom, like some sort of ragdoll, and he expects me to sit here and take his verbal insults.

  “I humiliated you, didn’t I?” He says. “What happened that night…It was supposed to be so easy. Have Kyle stand you up, covering you in that gunge…it all went to plan.”

  “Congratulations,” I say biting. “Now move.”

  He exhales angrily under his breath, running his hand through his perfectly combed hair. “So why can’t I stop thinking about you?” He almost shouts. “Why do you never leave my thoughts? Got any wise cracks for that one? Huh? Answer me that. Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  Oh.

  My.

  Go-

  He’s lost it.

  No, don’t get emotional Ken.

  Don’t fall for this trap.

  He’s trying to find your weak spot.

  I push around him, trying to get out but he’s blocking my escape. Damn him and his six foot tall stature. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me out.” I say impatiently.

  “Where’s your fire gone, Hinch? Did that bravery fizzle out?”

  I don’t hesitate, casting my furious gaze to his; his eyes never let go, holding me immobilised, trapped in his presence. There’s an intensity in that searing gaze. He’s searching for something - something that I don’t want to give him.

  “You have a habit of intimidating girls or am I special?”

  His eyes twinkle in faint amusement. Not the vicious, fake veneer of joy when he sees a victim plunge underwater; no, he’s actually amused. He finds this situation funny.

  “You think you’re special?” He says.

  I narrow my gaze. “I must be if I’m on your mind. Tell me, did I give you a sleepless night, Johnson?”

  Roman tilts his head. He leans forward, watching intently.

  Fuck.

  Okay.

  Abort.

  This isn’t going to plan.

  My goal was to make him uncomfortable but turns out he’s flipped a reverse card my way, making me regret opening my mouth in the first place.

  “You gonna let me out or not, Johnson?” I say indifferently but I’m still nervous as hell. He’s still Roman Johnson, the guy who goes out of his way to make me suffer and this faux confidence can only take me so far.

  His face falters. “Where are you going?”

  Away from you.

  “Carmichael’s office and then a permanent suspension, I think.”

  “It’s temporary suspension, at most,” he lifts his brow.

  “Not if I push for a permanent one. What do you care? I thought that’d make you happy.”

  “It doesn’t actually,” he replies instantly.

  Okay, that’s confusing me. “Why?”

  “Believe it or not, but I actually prefer it when you’re here.”

  “To torture?”

  He purses his lips. “To do whatever it gets your attention.”

  I think the color from face drains when he utters those words. He’s fucking with my mind. None of this makes sense. I search his gaze but find no deception there, no derisive stare, no mirthless smile to humiliate me even more.

  Just candid answers that fuck up my brain even more.

  His face retains that solemn tension; looking at me with that emotion again. The one that shows me a different side to Roman Johnson.

  He licks his lips, a nervous gesture as he takes a step closer. I retreat back instantly. Roman puts his hand up, frowning. “I’m not going to try anything.”

  “Well, w-what do you want?”

  “I want to talk.”

  Well, I don’t. Definitely not.

  Without hesitating, I make a break for the door, swivelling around Roman and my hand reaches for the doorknob, inches away from freedom. But it’s too late - Roman’s instincts are fast. His hand pulls me back to his chest and I land forward, his arms instantly wrap around my waist, instinctively pulling me closer.

  It’s too much.

  Our eyes are locked. Shock. Bewilderment.

  Curiosity.

  Everything about him overwhelms my senses.

  His warmth.

  His woody, spicy scent.

  The way his strong hands grip me tightly, almost afraid that I’ll fall.

  A complete contrast to everything I know about him.

  The words don’t come, the words of protest that would rip those hands off my waist. I’m waiting for him to come to his senses, to recoil in disgust at the thought of touching a nobody like me but it never comes. He stays rooted to the spot. The seconds stretch by. He’s not letting go.

  His hands grip tighter on my waist. A fury of heat builds up in the pit of my stomach.

  My stomach flutters with an emotion that I don’t understand; my skin shivers where his fingers linger, my eyes captive to his bold stare.

  Neither of us are moving.

  Why aren’t I moving?

  Clearing my throat, I force myself to take a large step back. The cold air hits my skin, mourning the loss of Roman’s warmth. He gives me a forlorn look, brimming with frustration.