Page 387 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Tell them, if they so much asthinkabout her again, I’ll slit their throats.”

Alex gives me an uneasy smile, but when I don’t blink, he nods and jogs away. I should have said something sooner. But at least now they know.

Absolutely no one’s allowed to think about, speak to, or touch Harper.

No one butme.

I’m at the cooler splashing ice water over my head when I notice a few of the guys on the team huddling up on the sideline again. They start laughing, slapping each other on the back. Alex stands with them, and he happens to look my way. His grin fades a little before brightening. Then he lifts his palms up and parodies a reluctant shrug.

What you gonna do?

My gaze flashes to the bleachers.

Sean is making a beeline for Harper.

The cup crumples in my fist, spilling icy water over my hand. I desperately want to race after him and bash his fucking face against the concrete until it looks like chopped liver. But thatdoesn’t make any sense. Like Alex said, Harper is nothing to me. We’re not related. The only thing binding us is some pathetic scrap of paper our parents signed.

Have my dick down her throat by nine tonight.

Harper gives Sean a double-take when she realizes he’s headed for her, and then grins sheepishly at him. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her smile at someone other than my dad. Come to think about it, I haven’t even seen her talk to anyone else. Ever. I thought she’d have found her clique by now. Guess she’s a bigger snob than I’d thought.

My chest tightens, and for once it’s not with anger. Fuck, I can’t believe I actually feel sorry for her. What the hell is wrong with me?

Sean hikes his cleat onto the seat beside her.

As if she’s stupid enough not to realize that the massive bulge in his pants is just a cup. Someone clasps my arm. I swing around to face Alex, and realize I’m not next to the water cooler anymore—I’m heading for the bleachers.

“Dude, just chill, would you?” he says. “Sean’s a lady killer, but, and no offense, your sister is kind of a bitch.”

“Stepsister.”

Harper laughs and then puts a hand over her mouth. Sean leans a little closer, one hand dangling from his upraised knee, the other moving in wide, expansive gestures, like a farmer talking about his crops. Harper now has both hands over her mouth, and she’s shaking her head. He comes to sit next to her, leaning close enough that their shoulders brush and she doesn’t lean away. In fact, she ducks her head so her hair hides her face. Her hands hover, then she nods and takes out her cellphone.

Molten rage courses through me, tainting the edges of my vision red. I have no idea who I’m more pissed at, Sean or Harper.

Why the fuck am I surprised Harper is a slut? Like mother like daughter, right?

I manage a whole thirty seconds of silence on the car ride home.

“So when did you decide to start sleeping your way through the football team?”

Harper whips her head to look at me. “Excuseme?”

“I’m sorry, did I hallucinate you giving Sean Harris your phone number?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs her shoulders. “So what if I did?”

I check my left and then make a smooth turn out of Fifth Street and onto the main road that takes us to the quiet suburbia of home.

“Ever wonder why I’m not dating anyone?”

Harper snorts. “Because you’re a psychopath?”

My expression turns deadpan. “Dad—” I cut off with a grunt. “My father forbids it.” I catch her eye for a second as I check my right for traffic before switching lanes. “It’s a distraction.”

“Forbids it?” she repeats, a laugh in her voice. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“He assumes his kids are psychic.” My jaw tightens when I realize I included her in that statement, but I guess I can’t keep denying the fact much longer. “Best you ignore Sean, and everything else with a dick, until you’ve graduated.”

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