Page 19 of King

BOOM!

A loud bang makes me look up to see Damien in the doorway, his grey and blue eyes already locked on me.

The room comes to complete silence as heads whip from me to him.

“What the fuck dude.” Christian squeezes in beside him before he follows his friend’s glare. “Oh.” A smirk spreads across his face, moving towards the seat next to me. He sits in his chair and throws his legs on the table. “This should be fun.”

Six

Damien strides towards me and with every step of his black boot, my heart thuds harder against my chest.

He’s taking his time but to me, he’s like a Cheetah. He’s in front of my desk before I know it, dropping his leather duffel bag to the ground. His hands slam on the desk, nostrils flaring. “You don’t belong here, Medusa.”

Christian clears his throat. “He means you’re in his seat.”

Without looking at his friend, Damien growls, “I know and meant what I said.” He stares at me, both eyes filled with fury.

I don’t back down. He needs to know that he doesn’t scare me. “With all this money shoved up your ass I thought you'd at least have some manners.”

“Manners?” He moves closer but his voice doesn’t change. Still deep and rolling and I won’t admit it does something to me. A stirring in my stomach. He reaches into his wallet and throws a five-dollar bill in my face before he smirks. “There’s your tip. Now get the fuck up and if you’re lucky we can discuss how you can earn more later.” Damien pushes his tongue in his cheek, an implied dick poking out.

“You know I would’ve gotten up.” Letting the bill fall to the ground I narrow my eyes, elbows on the desk. “But now I’m way too comfortable.” I lean back in my seat, not losing this staring contest. It’s intense, so is Damien. But I’m stubborn, and I’m not going down without a fight.

“Get up or I’ll make you.” His herby breath lands on my face, muscles tensing through his shirt.

“Mr. King.” A man in a brown blazer, patches on the elbows stands in the doorway. He folds his arms across his chest, horn-rimmed glasses low on his nose. “I really have no time for your shenanigans so early in the morning. Or in the school year.”

“Well, then you can tell this lost trash she’s in my seat.” Damien doesn’t turn around, his eyes boring into my head. “Or she can do as she’s told and get the fuck out of here.”

“Or you can be a gentleman and find another spot, perhaps in this empty seat in front of me.”

I give Damien a smirk and lean back in my seat. Opening my notebook, I show him I’m not going anywhere. To that, he slaps it off the desk, leaning over, palms splayed. He moves in so close that his nose is almost on mine. “I mean it, Medusa.”

“It’s Jo!” I snap back.

“Mr. King!” The teacher raises his voice. “I’m giving you five seconds to leave that girl alone and get in your seat!”

“Fuck this.” Damien turns around, but not before pushing the entire desk over with one fling of his arm. Christian stands, the top of the desk landing on my book. Damien heads towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turns around and says the words that pierce through my heart, “I’ll make this your personal hell, Medusa. So you can stay here and burn, just like your parents.”

There's a lump in my throat and I'm frozen in my seat. I’m fighting every nerve that tells me to chase after him, hop on his back, and claw at his face. I can't speak when Christian picks the desk off the floor. Or when the teacher starts a slow clap, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “Another dramatic performance by Damien King everybody."

There’s a chorus of murmurs, giggles and whispers before the teacher moves behind the desk. He points to the name on the board. “You know who I am so let’s begin.” Opening his book, he nods my way. It’s the only acknowledgement I get before he dives into his attendance sheet and I’m relieved. New student introductions are the worst.

I’m shaken out of my shock when Christian places my book on my desk. “You’re tough,” he chuckles as he sits in his chair. “But you're in for trouble.”

“Girl!” The minute I step foot out of Mr. Hill’s class, Allie and Nate are on each of my arms. “You are the talk of the town!”

“What the fuck happened with King?” Allie asks, eyes on our trio as they whisk me down the hallway.

So much for flying under the radar. I use this chance to ask about the words still ringing in my head. “Damien said something about my parents.”

“The Archibalds?” Allie glances at me as we arrive at what I assume is Nate’s locker since he’s the one opening it. Cologne and hair products line the top shelf. Janet Jackson poster on the inside of the wooden door.

“No, my real parents.” I follow Allie’s lead, leaning on the lockers beside Nate’s. I don’t bother to ask how she knew about The Archibalds. Its clear news travels fast in this school.

“King’s just fucking with you.” Allie turns to me.

“Yeah, he’s an insensitive prick.” Nate fixes his collar in the locker mirror before smoothing his eyebrows. “If you’re from The Grove there’s probably not much on your folks worth his attention. You're from the other side of the tracks and all.” Allie lets her head fall to the side, giving Nate a look. “What? She is!”

---