Page 63 of Wicked Scandal

All throughout class there are whispers circulating. I pay them no attention and when the bell rings, I dismiss everyone while wishing the seniors well.

Wilder hangs back, and we say goodbye with a hug. His mouth ghosts my ear and his warm breath sends a shiver down my spine. “Check your SnapTok.”

He isn’t even completely out the door when I open the app on my phone.

WildMisfit: We always have CatEyes and WildMisfit, right? Please just talk to me on here.

I want to smile, I really do, but how can I when my heart is so broken? Rome and Elodie know we slept together, that I am cheating on my husband with my student. And what’s worse? They know my husband physically abuses me.

I type out a response, but it’s not what I want to say, nor what Wilder will want to hear.

CatEyes: We need to give it time. It’s too soon. Once things cool down and we’re not the topic of everyone’s conversations, we can talk.

I hit send and I can't help but feel like this is the beginning of the end for us.

CHAPTER 19

WILDER

As much as I wanted to respond to Cat’s last message, I’m giving her the space and time she needs, at least, for now.

She’s still on my mind all day. I can still smell her sweet lavender scent on the clothes I wore the night we slept together, and sometimes I swear I can hear her voice. After school yesterday I was walking through the parking lot and saw a brunette standing by my car. For a split second I thought it was her, until the person turned around and I realized it was Sam.

For some fucked-up reason that girl can’t get it through her head that I’m not going to prom with her. She’s told everyone in school that we’re going together, but meeting there. When I approached her in the parking lot, she told me her dress color is burnt orange, as if she actually thinks I’m going to match my suit to her and get her a corsage.

In the end, I just nodded and let her think what she wants. Prom is the last thing on my mind, but nonetheless, here I am getting help from my dad with my tie—baby blue, not burnt orange.

I stare in the mirror as I watch him tie it for the third time. I know he wants to say something but he is holding back for some reason.

Did I fuck up his speech? I felt like I was able to put something decent together, and Cat definitely improved it.

“Lots of rumors going around,” Dad says as he cinches the knot around my neck for what I hope is the final time. “I just hope none of them are true.”

I purposely look away, unable to meet his eyes. I’m not sure what he’s heard, but I hope like hell it has to do with Callan and not me.

“Rumors have a way of doing that,” I quip, keeping my eyes on my reflection. “Good thing we don’t believe everything we hear.”

“Let’s hope you’re right. The last thing our family needs is another fuckup from one of its members.”

It’s not often my dad swears so I know he’s pissed. “What did Callan do this time?” But when I look at him, I know it’s not my brother he’s talking about.

“Not Callan,” he deadpans as he jerks my neck forward. "You.”

“Me?” I look at him with wide eyes, as if I can’t believe I could have done anything to piss him off. “I haven’t given anyone anything to talk about so it has to be a matter of miscommunication.”

“Is that so?” he seethes as he drops his hands, still glaring at me like I’m an enemy and not his son. He pats a firm hand to my shoulder, holding it there. “Look at me,” he demands.

My eyes hesitantly lift to meet his and I see the fury behind them. “He’s the wrong man to mess with, Wilder. So if you’ve been sneaking into his guesthouse with your dipshit friends and using it as your own personal hotel, it ends now.”

I exhale a sigh of relief and I almost want to laugh. Is this the rumor Troy is spreading to try and threaten me? Does he think my father will actually turn against me? Dad definitely heard something, but he heard it all wrong—thank fuck.

“It was one time,” I tell him, going along with the rumor for now. If Troy thinks he’s winning, then he will be more likely to fuck up. “He was out of town, and?—”

“I don’t care,” he stammers. “Don't do it again. I’m running in an election against this man, do not give him ammunition—because he will use it. And certainly do not get yourself arrested in the process. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I say respectfully.

Dad’s face softens. He isn’t normally hard on us so I know this is weird for him. Especially with me. He looks up at me, a plea and something like concern mixed together in his gaze. “You’re on the right path, Wilder. I’d hate to see all your hard work be for nothing.”

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