Page 301 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Uh… Fri-yay?

“Assembly, Miss Virgo.” He rolls his eyes as he walks past me. “Assembly.”

It’s my turn to follow Denard, and I do so with a hollow pit for a stomach. This is nothing like the dream I had the other night, but that doesn’t stop my fingers from tingling, and my legs threatening to buckle under me.

Denard opens the gymnasium door for me, which catches me off guard. I do this weird little spin to frown at him, and then turn to the interior of the gym when I feel eyes on me.

All the eyes in the entire fucking school.

In an instant, my cheeks are burning. My feet try to tangle under me before I can sort them out, but luckily I spot an empty seat almost right by the door.

Which happens to be the exact same time I see Briar. Because he’s the reason there’s an empty seat.

He pats the space beside him, giving me a smile that does perverted things to my insides.

“Take a seat,” Denard instructs behind me, and I swallow hard and force myself to go sit beside Briar.

“Morning, Angel.”

I shift on the seat, grabbing both straps of my backpack and wishing I could worm my way inside it and disappear.

“Morning,” I murmur back, keeping my eyes fixed on Denard as he heads over to the middle of the gym floor.

Nothing like my dream. There’s a podium here, and a guy that has to be the principal standing nearby, talking with a teacher I’m not familiar with.

I flinch when a hand lands on my thigh.

“What are you doing?”

“I’d consider it pretty obvious,” Briar says.

“Stop touching me.”

“You weren’t complaining yesterday.” He inches his hand up, and I shift close enough to the edge of the bench to risk falling off. But Briar’s got long arms and the stubbornness of a mule, so he doesn’t seem to notice.

Wanna know whatdoesnotice? My fucking vagina. As if expecting action right here and now—in the middle of an assembly—I start tingling.

I consider standing, but that would mean drawing attention to myself, and that’s the last thing I want.

Briar leans closer. “I have something for you.”

I glance at him before I can stop myself. “Let me guess. An assembly I’ll never forget?” I say dryly.

I wish I had the words back—it makes me think of my dream.

“You’ll see.”

Around us the benches are quietening down. The principal has taken his podium, but he’s busy conferring with Ms. Parsons now.

“But first, I want you to promise me something.”

I let out a soft snort. “Nope.”

“You haven’t even heard?—”

“Don’t have to. Not promising you anything.” I cross my arms over my chest, and my body language screams for an end to the discussion.

“Morning, Lavish Preparatory,” comes the principal’s voice over the audio system.

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