Page 75 of SNOB

“Thank you,” Mac accepts the credit, without even a mention of my name. He glances at me, spotting me before he turns his attention back to our dean. “Hopefully my injury will recover and I can get back to working on the team.”

“One thing at a time son,” Sterling says. “Don’t lose focus.”

Gray’s words ring in my head. So do Greta’s as my broken paintbrush drops to the ground. Marching towards him, my Oxfords stomp across the rink floor as the room turns red.

Mac glances at me before turning his dad towards the doors. “Let’s discuss this in your office.”

Not a chance. “Did you seriously put your name on my art?” I’m not even in front of him before I start. “You didn’t even help.” Circling around the trio, I stand in front of the doors, forcing him to acknowledge me.

“We’re busy,” Mac says, looking down at me. “If you have a problem you can take it up with someone else.” If my mouth wasn’t so tight, my jaw would be on the floor.

I ignore the way his dad looks at me, Dean Patel taking a step back as if she wants nothing to do with this. “What happened to being a team, Mac?”

“Did I stutter? I said, we’re busy.”

“You don’t deserve your name on that.”

He turns to his father, leading him towards the doors. “Shall we?”

This fucker.

Heat swells my insides as I reach into my bag, pulling out a can of spray paint. Turning around, I walk through the doors back to the lobby before bumping into something solid. Mac’s chest.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” he says, glaring down at me again.

“Or what?” I ask, the heat of our bodies together so hot it could melt the ice. “Gonna do me like you did Gray?”

“Maybe.”

“No! Wait, please!”

A familiar voice rings loud from the other side of the doors, our heads whipping to it. But I’m way too heated to let that distract me. My attention moves back to Mac, my eyes boring into his skull. I’m ready to stand up for myself when someone passes by.

“Greta Fukushima is in handcuffs!” I can only see the back of a jersey before the person disappears out to the quad.

Wait. “What?”

“You think she did it?” Gray’s voice comes next as he rushes towards the doors.

With furrowed brows, I follow. “Did what?” When I get out to the quad, a crowd fills the space as two cops escort Greta down the stone path. The same ones who interrogated me.

My body stills, my throat closing in.

Greta’s plaid dress and knee-high socks make her look way too innocent for this. That’s because she is.

“What the hell happened?” I ask Gray. A crowd lines up on each side of the path as the officers lead Greta toward the parking lot.

Gray leans in. “Turns out, Beau might be dead.” My breath hitches in my throat, his words making my stomach spin. That queasiness comes roaring back for the first time in a while and I do my best to keep myself standing. “And Greta might have something to do with it.”

Her eyes land on me and heat drains from my face despite the sun beating down on us. “Wh-what?” Is all I can muster as Greta stares at me like she knows. Like she’s silently pleading for me to say something.

“They found his car at the bottom of Avalon Lake,” Gray continues. “They also found Greta’s earring or something.”

My eyes widen, remembering the scrunchie she lent me. I can’t let this happen to her. I can’t let her go down for this.

When I take a step forward, something stops me, a firm grip on my arm. “Let it happen.” Mac’s voice comes to my ear and I hate the wave of warmth that washes over me.

“Mac, she’s getting arrested!”

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