Page 11 of Wreck Me

We are in a standoff when Mr. Thompson, the math teacher, finds us.

“Abigail, is there a problem?” he asks in a gentle voice.

Neither of us ends the staring battle.

Holding my gaze prisoner, he dares me to say something. It’s as if his eyes are made to entice me, provoke, and challenge me.

I put the most fake and innocent smile on and say, “I was just showing the new student around.”

“Yes, very kind of you.” He adds, “Classes are about to start. You can continue with the tour after class.”

This just backfired. I open my mouth to say I’d rather eat dirt than spend another moment in his vicinity when Dane says, “That would be truly helpful, Abigail.” He prolongs pronouncing my name, taunting me in that decadent silky tone, ending on a rasp. He’s a snake, but he won’t hypnotize me.

The teacher waits for me to confirm, and I nod, passing him by and mumbling, “Asshole.”

“Watch your manners, princess.”

The arrogant, entitled prick. No one made me this angry from just a small interaction.

I dart toward my first class. Students glance at me from the corner of their eyes. He’s right behind me.

“We passed two empty seats,” I snarl under my breath.

“Haven’t found the one I want.” His breath fans my ear and the skin around it prickles. His intoxicating scent permeates the air, making it headier with those musky notes.

I drop in my seat, slamming my notebook on the desk. If he dares to sit next to me, I’m going to make his life here a living hell.

Dane smirks and plops in the seat next to me. Of course, he does. Give me patience, God, or I am going to send him to the other side before his time.

Everyone’s attention shifts to us, waiting. They know not to occupy the seat next to me. Tension stretches to unbearable, and the air thickens between us, choking the breath from my lungs. I close my eyes for a second to get a grip on my demeanor. But it’s hard with him trying to annoy me on purpose.

With the biggest smile I can conjure, I bend toward him over the desk. “Enjoy it while you can.”

His eyebrows draw together. If he thinks he can outsmart me, he has another thing coming. You always find out everything about your opponent first, and then you make a strategy.

Resting my cheek on my palm, I zone out while the history teacher drones on about World War II. I am ahead in every class. I could probably write and defend a thesis at this point. But what good will it do me? It’s not like I can escape the clutches of the Family. I don’t even know why I still try to excel when it’s all about Kaden and me as a couple. I am not worthy on my own.

“What did that pencil do to you?” Dane asks low enough only for me to hear. Yet it startles me, my spine jerking up like steel.

This is why I don’t let anyone near me. Every now and then, the facade cracks. I stop chewing the pencil, placing it down with more force than necessary.

“Keep your eyes to the front. Something tells me you need it.”

He leans back and links his hands behind his neck. Some ink peeks from the cufflinks, and I inch closer.

“Wanna see it?” he asks cockily, and I snap out of my curiosity.

“Some dumb and spontaneous decision? It must be as unimaginative as the owner of said ink.”

A smirk curves up his lips. “I can’t wait for you to eat those words when you see it.”

“Have no intention to.”

“And I can’t wait to eat that damn red lipstick off your lips.”

My lips tingle, but that’s not the only disturbing thing—the blush heating my skin is just as unsettling. No one has ever talked to me like that.

He’s arrogant, entirely too conceited, and so full of himself that it’s a miracle he doesn’t combust.

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