Page 17 of Chaos at Westbrook High

Mrs. Tanner stands and begins writing on the board, but I don’t take my eyes off Hailey, eagerly waiting to see what she’ll do next. Her lips part as she glances at Mrs. Tanner, but nothing comes out. Instead of arguing like I expected her to—like I wanted her to—she walks over, drops her bag on the floor, and slides her ass into the seat.

She knows I wanted to play with her a little, that I wanted a reason to argue back and forth with her, a reason to hear her voice. Any reason.

“Clever girl,” I say quietly.

She grabs her notebook, slapping it down on the desk before flipping it open to the first page. Instead of taking my own notes, I lean back and watch her take hers, my long legs widening as I picture her straddling my lap, resting back on her elbows, her chest rising and falling rapidly while she lets me roam my hands all over her body.

Fuck. I can’t get her out of my head. I’m used to it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I met her, but it’s even worse when she’s this close.

So fucking close.

“Hailey,” I whisper, but she doesn’t even look at me. “Damn it, baby, don’t ignore me again.”

She does. The little brat goes right back to pretending I don’t exist, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want her even more.

“You’re playing with fire, you know?”

But she doesn’t give a shit.

Her eyes bounce between her notebook and the board at the front of the room, her focus solely on whatever the teacher’s talking about. My focus is lost somewhere between her mouth and her throat, my knee jerking up and down as I press the heel of my hand into my crotch.

God fucking damn her.

The rest of the school day goes pretty much the same way, with me plotting to get her to sit next to me in every class and her trying her hardest to pretend it doesn’t piss her off.

It’s fun pissing her off.

The last bell rings, and she looks at the clock, her eyebrows pinching as she closes her English Lit notebook. She looks disappointed for some reason, almost as if this class wasn’t long enough for her. She’s smart as hell—I know because I’ve barely taken my eyes off her for the last eight hours—so it’s not because she can’t keep up. She likes English. Aside from having to spend time with me, she likes school in general as far as I can tell. Probably enjoys learning just as much as I enjoy getting my dick sucked. The thought makes me wonder what it would feel like to have her mouth around my dick, and shit, now I’m hard again.

“Hailey, wait,” I holler, jumping up to follow her when I realize I’m just sitting here like a dumbass.

She doesn’t wait, her pace quick but not rushed as she makes her way out into the hall. She keeps her gaze forward as she walks, the lighter ends of her long hair brushing the middle of her back with every step she takes. She stops at her locker, and I do the same, shamelessly staring at her ass and thighs while I shove my shit inside.

“You walked today, didn’t you?”

Nothing.

“You wanna ride home with me?”

She rolls her eyes at that, carefully putting her books away before she closes the locker and turns to leave. Unable to help myself, I click my tongue and hook my finger through the belt loop of her jeans, gently pulling her back as I close my own locker. She bites back a gasp, her shoulders going rigid when I dip my head to put my mouth next to her ear.

“Baby, you know I’ll make a scene if you don’t give me attention,” I taunt, sliding my finger out of the loop to tease the skin at the base of her spine. My other hand moves to her hip, and I feel her body tense against the front of mine, her breathing picking up with fear and something else as she looks around at all the eyes on us.

“Kai.”

“Hailey,” I say back, ghosting my lower lip over the soft shell of her ear, grinning when she snatches her head away to stop me.

“What is wrong with you?” she asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Why do you act like this?”

“Because I can,” I say simply, refusing to admit the real reason—that I’m stupidly obsessed with a girl I barely know. “Maybe I’m just a little more forward than the pussies you’re used to.” Like Wyatt, the frat boy looking-douchebag who works with her at the coffee shop, I think to myself, but I don’t add that part.

“Or maybe your daddy never taught you the word no and now you think you can do and say whatever the hell you want.”

She hasn’t told me no—yet—but I’m more focused on the other thing she said.

“What do you know about my daddy, Hailey?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly—too quickly—swallowing when she realizes I notice. “I know he has more money and power than most people would know what to do with. I know about the hotels and the private jets and the bodyguards he has on you. I know people shit themselves when he walks into a room. And I know they do the same with you.”

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