Page 97 of Fighting the Odds

“Don’t say anything. We aren’t supposed to know, so you can’t let anything slip. I just happened to be a nosy bastard and when I heard it, I had to stay and listen. My fucking back was sore as hell from where I was kneeling behind the plant.”

I sit back and start laughing, holding my belly. I can only imagine how he must have looked. I’m not sure how big the plant was, but he’s not a little guy. Sam, now she wouldn’t have had a problem since she’s so tiny.

“You’ve just given me the best news I’ve had in days. Thank you and I promise mum’s the word.” I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key.

“Okay, let’s talk pizza so we can eat and get back to making out.” He winks as he picks his phone up from the table and scoots closer to me.

My heart flutters when I see the screen on his phone and it’s a picture of me. It’s one I’ve never seen before. I’m sitting at my desk, the tip of a pen in my mouth, and I’m staring off into the distance.

When did he take this?

Before I can ask, he answers.

“Zander took it of you one day in class, and well, I had him send it to me. I’ve had it on my phone since then. But I want to exchange it with a new one.” He opens up the camera and moves his body flush against mine, putting his arm over my shoulder. He holds the phone out, showing both of us on the screen. “Smile,” he instructs just before he clicks the button. But that’s not enough. I turn my head at the same time he does and we kiss.

“Now you have two,” I say breathlessly.

“Yep, but I can’t decide which one I want to use. Maybe I can do both, one for my laptop and one for my phone. Decisions, decisions. Now, back to the pizza.” He opens the browser on his phone and picks a pizza place near us that delivers. “What do you want?”

“You.” I mean it with all my heart. “But if you’re talking about pizza, anything is fine, just no stinking anchovies,” I say, causing him to laugh.

Chapter 46

Sierra

Today sucks! It sucks big fat monkey balls!

The only good thing to even come from it is the potential to have my name cleared and be able to see Sam.

I’m sick of the whispering, the lude comments and the stares. The condescending looks, not only from the students but also the staff.

Wesley tried to talk to me all day. Thankfully the guys have been great barriers when it comes to him, and well the others as well. But they can’t be around all the time.

I was able to get out of gym, thank god. Mr. Stevenson let me use his office to make-up a major math test I missed when I was absent yesterday. But my luck has run out and I have to see him for our last period of the day.

All three of the guys walked me to the library. I kept telling them they didn’t have to. I hate that they are taking a chance of being late to their own classes, but they won’t take no for an answer.

As I step into the place that used to be my refuge from the madness of high school, I scan the massive room, looking to see if he’s here. I just want to get through the next hour without him saying anything to me.

I know it won’t happen, though.

He kept messaging me last night until I eventually blocked yet another number he managed to find to contact me.

When I don’t see him, I head straight for the desk, moving behind it and stowing my bag. There are no books on the return cart, or any new deliveries to put away, so I take a seat behind the desk, pull my literature book out of my bag, and get a head start on my homework.

Maybe if I keep busy, Wesley will get the picture and leave me alone. I hear the door open, and fight the urge to look up. I know it’s him. Don’t ask me how, but I do.

When he moves behind the desk, my whole body tenses and I can’t concentrate. His hot breath hits the back of my neck as he steps behind me and I shiver in disgust.

“Sierra,” he calls my name. His voice is hoarse as if he’d been screaming all night.

I ignore him, focusing on the book in front of me, yet unable to comprehend any of the words I’m trying to read.

“Sierra, I’m making sure my dad pays for what he did to you,” he whispers in my ear. “I had a copy of the flashdrive and I turned it in.” He leans in closer, his lips almost touching the side of my face, and I want to puke.

Still, I don’t acknowledge him. He just confirmed what we already knew. He turned the video in, yet again putting one of the most terrible days of my life on display for all to see. I’m pissed.

He pulls a chair over, the metal legs scraping across the tile floor behind the desk.

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