Page 22 of Wicked Dreams

Back to cold, although he was affected by that kiss, too. You can’t tell me he wasn’t.

His expression is distant when he says, “You lose, Margo. You know what that means?”

I clench my fist to hide my trembling. Of course I lost a game I had no chance of winning. It was rigged against me before he moved closer. Although I have a sneaking suspicion he lost, too. He just won’t admit it.

Caleb has given me a handful of punishments in the span of a week. Even kissing Savannah on Saturday was some sort of payback. Why would this be any different?

“It’s going to cost you,” he continues.

Instead of telling me the price of my supposed failure, though, he steps away. My knees bang together, and I fall hard back to the bench. He strides away with his shoulders straight, bag slung over one shoulder. He’s the portrayal of perfection, and I am a wreck in comparison.

That was my first kiss.

He claimed my mouth like I’m no better than an object he’s writing his name on. The problem is—I’m not a puppet who will dance when he jerks my strings. I’m not soft—my childhood has seen to that. I will not bend to him.

And I will certainly not break.

I just need to remind myself of my strength when he steps into my space. There’s a flutter in my chest, although I can’t pinpoint if it’s nerves or excitement. Just being back in Rose Hill is a novelty.

After a long moment of trying to rein in my thoughts, I lift my textbook and brush off the dirt from his shoe. I stuff it and my notebook into my bag, skipping homeroom and heading straight for my first class. I’d be late to homeroom if I went now, and I don’t want to be the center of attention. For five minutes, I get to be alone in the hallway.

Silence prevails. I lean against a locker and blow out a slow breath.

Caleb Asher has turned this into a game—but what kind? From pushing me down to pressing buttons I barely knew existed, like kissing Savannah, or twisting my arm behind my back, it’s clear I am Public Enemy Number One.

But why?

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

Unknown

Do you regret coming back yet?

Rumor has it, Caleb is out for your blood.

Fuck off.

I put my phone on silent, my mood officially soured. My lips still tingle from where Caleb touched them, and I can’t help but press my finger to them. Can’t help but replay that scene again, as twisted as it is.

The softening. The wince. The flutter.

The sneer.

I rub the back of my hand along my mouth, suddenly wanting to remove any trace of him. Disgust twists my stomach.

The bell rings, and I straighten up off the lockers.

In a matter of moments, the hallways are flooded with students. They stream out of the classroom I need to enter, the chatter loud and jarring. I am so apart from it, it’s almost like I’m invisible. Standing against the wall, while my peers pass me by without a second glance.

It’s oddly unsettling. But rather this than stares and whispers, which I’m sure will be Caleb’s eventual intention.

No one witnessed the kiss this morning. The courtyard was empty except for us.

Was that intentional?

He’d rather kiss Savannah in a crowded mall food court.

Finally, the room empties. I slip inside, crossing it and taking a seat. It’s the same seat I had before, because I don’t want to rock the boat and choose something new.

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