Page 33 of Chaos at Westbrook High

He smirks and runs his eyes over the length of my body, sliding his free hand over his jeans to squeeze his dick through the fabric. “I can’t think of doing anything better than you, baby girl.”

I scoff and put the last couple chairs up on the table. “How many girls have you talked to like that today, fuck boy?” I ask, using the nickname Callie gave him.

“Just today?” He pretends to think about it. “Two.”

“Including me?”

“Mhm.”

“Who’s the other girl?”

“Callie,” he answers, his amusement clear when he catches whatever look is on my face. “Are you jealous again?”

I don’t answer that. “Do you harass her like this at home?”

“I don’t harass you.” He’s trying to look offended, but he’s full of shit and we both know it. “Why do you hate me so much?”

I raise a brow at that, doing my best to act unaffected. “I don’t care enough to hate you, Kai.” I’m lying through my teeth, anything to get him off my back. “You think you’re some big, bad villain to me but you’re not. You’re nothing to me.”

That heavy silence returns, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks…hurt. His eyebrows scrunch together as he does that thing where he tries to look into my skull, as if he wants to force his way into my head and pluck the thoughts right out. I look away from him, my stomach sinking with guilt for reasons I can’t explain. But then he moves, and that raw feeling I had a second ago is quickly forgotten.

“Kai—”

“You little liar,” he taunts, his hands snatching my waist and squeezing.

I hit his chest, but it’s as if he doesn’t even feel it. He just squeezes me harder and walks right into me, moving me back until my shoulders hit the wall between two tables.

“You said?—”

“I know,” he whispers. “You’re makin’ a liar out of me, baby. I don’t lie.” Dipping his head, he lowers his face to mine, breathing me in and crowding me until all I see and feel is him. “Come on, Hails. Tell me the truth for once. Why do you hate me?”

My anger rises, and I hit him again, my fingers clenched around his soft T-shirt, our lips bumping every time I move. “You know what you did.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Maybe not, but you were there. You helped him cover it up. Your brother’s a psycho, and you’re no better than him. None of you are.”

“Is that right?”

“You should all be in jail right now.”

“If we were in jail, Derek would be right there with us.” He wraps his fingers around my throat, much like he did in the library today, and I pull back as much as I can to sneer up at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Callie,” he grits out, his eyes darkening with rage. “I’m talking about Callie.”

“What about her?”

His grip on my throat and waist softens a little bit, and he rests his forehead on mine, gently running his thumb back and forth over my chin. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“He drugged her, Hailey. He had his friends kidnap her and take her to a hotel room. Then he set up a camera and tried to rape h?—”

“Stop.” I shove his hand away from my face, and he lets me, my eyes filling with tears while I stare into his. “You’re lying.”

“Ask him,” he says gently, using both hands to lace his fingers through mine, dipping his head to rest it on mine. “Go home to your boy and ask him what he did to her.”

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