Petty, I know. Sue me.
Taylor: You know who the fuck this is. And I don’t like how you and your buddy have been looking at us all night. It’s creepy as fuck. So get back in here and tell him to stop.
My cheeks heat from embarrassment. How dare he?
Me: Tell him yourself.
And with that, I pocket my phone, fucking fuming, as I exit into the parking lot. Another text comes through, but I don’t bother to read it because fuck him. He’d be in goddamn prison if it weren’t for me, but who cares, right? Just more shit Huck does for Taylor that goes unnoticed and un-fucking-appreciated. I’ve been such a pushover for the last four years; it’s not even funny. But still, I’m a nice person, so I quickly pull my phone out again to send Taylor’s new contact info to the business guy at the motorsports park before stepping over to find my boyfriend.
“I thought you forgot about me.” His voice comes from my left, and I turn to see his small form striding toward me. Helooks...so damn handsome, wearing a beige tux that makes his dark skin glow, the brown hair on his head shaved close in a fade. His hazel eyes lighten as he smiles at me, and my head throbs with guilt. I feel like an impostor.
“Never.” I lean down to kiss him on the cheek, and he brings out a box from behind his back.
“Surprise,” he laughs, a small smile forming on my lips at the matching boutonnieres in his hand. He’s always so sweet like this. I don’t deserve it.
He pins my boutonniere on my jacket, fingers lingering on the collar. “You look lovely, babe.”
“You, too,” I respond quickly, blushing and mentally kicking myself for not telling him sooner. He chuckles, always so full of laughter, before squeezing my hand.
“Ready for prom?”
At his wink, I’m pulling him toward school with a nod. We’ve only been dating for three months, and though we text constantly, it’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen each other. Being at two different schools on two different schedules makes hanging out hard. I wish I was a decent boyfriend and could say that it bothered me, but really...it doesn’t. Texting is fine—it’s safe. Face-to-face, though, is always tough for me because of the effort it takes to maintain my mask. People exhaust me.
Except for Taylor because he sees me as I am.
That thought intrudes my brain, and I shake my head to shove it away.
As we near the gym doors, I let go of Royce’s hand with an apologetic wince. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head quickly. “Don’t be sorry. I know what it feels like, babe. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Fuck, he’s too nice.
“Thank you,” I murmur, pushing open the double doors and pulling him inside. When I look around for Logan, I find him surrounded by a small group of people, and as we near them, a sweat breaks out on my palms.
Taylor and Logan are in each other’s faces, clearly locked in a heated argument.
Shit.
I shout over the music once we’re close enough for them to hear. “Hey, what’s going on?”
They both turn in my direction and when Taylor’s eyes take in Royce, he freezes. There’s a moment where something like pain crosses his features before it morphs into pure, unadulterated rage.
“Who the fuck are you?” He snarls, suddenly in my boyfriend’s space.
“Royce. And you are?”
“This is Taylor.” My throat closes around his name, so I clear it. “My stepbrother.”
Around us, I notice Matthew, Xed, and Christian warily taking in the scene.
“Ah.” Recognition sparks in Royce’s eyes, and he stares up at Taylor with disdain. “The stepbrother who bullied you and stole your car.”
Double shit.
Taylor goes rigid before swinging his eyes to me, hissing. “Youtoldhim?”
Yes, I told him. Because he’s my boyfriend, and I felt like shit for lying about it.