Page 11 of Picture Perfect

I swallow hard and nod, knowing that arguing with him will only lead to more pain for both of us. He walks away without another word and I'm left alone in the hallway, trying to shake off the fear and humiliation from our encounter.

I take a deep breath and head into class, trying to focus on anything but Chess or my brother.

Chapter seven

Chess

Istroll away as Adelaide's brute of a brother grabs her arm, no doubt berating her for consorting with the likes of me. The sound of Wesley's shrill voice directed at Adelaide fades behind me as I saunter away.

Protectiveness flares in me. I want to go back. To stop him. Which is unlike me and I don't really know how to handle it.

But getting involved will only make it worse for her.

For now.

No, we needed finesse here. Subtle maneuvers. The kind of sly sabotage I excel at. A few planted rumors here, compromising photos there. Nothing too illegal... but enough to make pretty boy Wesley sweat. I had the access, why not use it?

I find myself stalking the halls, my footsteps heavier than usual. The eyes sliding over me are filled with questions.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Maybe it's those finger-shaped bruises I spied on her delicate wrist? Had weaselly Wesley put them there? The thought makes my blood boil.

More questioning eyes. I shake out the tension in my shoulders and stuff my hands in my pockets, whistling a jaunty tune to play the part expected of me.

Laid back playboy. Scholarship kid. Computer genius.

Wouldn't want to break the mold now. Their puny little minds might not be able to comprehend. Maybe they'd explode.

Huh. Maybe I should be fucking with them then.

At the lab door, I key in the code we definitely didn't steal from the principal's office. The perks of being expert lock pickers—both physical and metaphorical, thank you hacking skills—never cease to amuse me.

Inside, Saint and Dre are already hunkered over laptops, looking like teen avengers assembling for battle. So deliciously dramatic.

"Where are we on Winthrop's account?" I demand, skipping the pleasantries. We have business to handle. Adelaide's business.

"Where have you been?" Saint counters.

My thoughts drift back to Addy, how frightened she appeared when I intruded upon her sanctuary. The bruises she'd tried to hide.

I hesitate. We didn't keep things from each other. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Saint fails to share his schemes half the time and Dre... I don't want to know what goes on in his sick mind.

But, I should tell them about Addy. And, yet...

"Ferreting and ferrying secrets, as per usual."

"Right."

"So, Winthrop," I push, trying to remain casual.

"Why the interest?" Dre asks while Saint tells me "The simpering weasel still has time."

I swear under my breath. Having control of Wesley is leverage to keep him in line. And away from Addy.

"Now Preston," Dre offer a feral smile, "that sniveling snail is coming due."

"And, good thing too. We can use that as leverage to get to Adelaide," Saint returns that smile.

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