Page 320 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I head for the door, but Dylan puts out his hand to stop me. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Letting out a disbelieving, “What did you just say?” I step back and scan him with utter contempt.

“Just…go home, Briar.” Dylan drops his gaze, but he doesn’t step aside. His shoulders don’t sag.

“I didn’t do anything!” I yell, shoving him aside so hard he stumbles.

“But you wanted to, didn’t you?” Zak says as he steadies Dylan.

“What are you saying?” I storm forward, and suddenly both of them are upright, standing shoulder to shoulder, eyes narrowed and hands fisted. If the two of them decided to gang up on me then yeah, I don’t think I could take them both.

“Cool it, guys,” Marcus says. “We’re leaving, okay?” He steps in front of me, for all the world like he’s gonna protect me.

I glare at Dylan and Zak over his shoulder. “Chicken shit pussies,” I hiss.

“Come on, man, let’s get out of here.” Marcus turns, scanning me as if he’s checking for some last vestige of calm in my face.

I doubt he’ll find it. I’m about ready to rip through skin and claw apart flesh.

How fucking dare they?—?

—think I was gonna rape her?

I sneer at them, take a slow step back, and then another. That’s when I notice everyone in the immediate vicinity is watching, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

There are phones out, too.

People have been recording this shit.

I storm out of Dylan’s house with blood singing in my fucking ears like a Valkyrie’s Aria. Obviously, Addy’s long gone by now—I just hope to all hell they made it back to her place without hitting anything on the way. She never seems to realize how much she’s had to drink, Addy. And Jess was always too pissed to care how she got home—or if she even got home at all.

“Wanna go check on them?” Marcus asks.

I turn to him. I don’t have a fucking clue if he’s talking about Jess or Indi, but then I come back to the present with bitter finality.

“Yeah.” I climb in behind my Mustang’s steering wheel, and Marcus hesitates before getting into the passenger seat.

As I turn the ignition, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out and hurriedly unlock the screen.

She’s safe.

It came from the same number Addy’s been using to blackmail me with. There’s another message—one from my dad—but I’m too furious to read it.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter. I throw my Mustang into reverse, grabbing Marcus’s headrest as I check behind me to make sure I’m not about to drive over some drunk kids.

“Who?”

“Addy. Bitch thinks she can get away with this shit, she’s got another thing coming.”

“What are you?—?”

I make eye contact with Marcus as I turn forward, and he cuts off. “This bitch is done ruining my fucking life. You hear me?”

When Marcus leans away from me, I realize I’m yelling. I blink a few times and desperately try to compose myself before I slam my foot down on the gas.

It doesn’t work.

If anything, it pisses me off even more.

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