Page 20 of Heart of Thorns

Professor Garcia

What made you do it in the first place?

I’m sure the truth would suffice. Thorne is a complete asshole who is full of himself—everyone knows it. But telling Professor Garcia that he offended me by saying I was a jersey chaser feels… immature. So instead, I give her a truth that will quiet her.

I’m jealous and angry. It was wrong of me. I’ll fix it as soon as possible.

I didn’t lie.

It’s the truth.

It just isn’t the entire truth.

Professor Garcia

Fix it now. They have a game this evening, and it needs to be fixed by then or Coach is going to bring it up to Dean Winters.

I snort in the middle of class. The head football coach threatening to tattle on me to the dean doesn’t worry me. Dean Winters would give up his left testicle to please me and my parents. As long as we stay quiet about the psychopath who trapped me inside a burning building, he’ll bend over backward for us. He’s already made that clear.

The university wouldn’t want word to get out that there’s a student on campus who likes to play with fire. Not to mention, the police have no leads, which would make the rest of the student population fearful.

Never mind me.

Professor Miller dismisses class with aGo Knightsparting, and I gather my things so I can rush to the locker room to fix my impulsive behavior. Marley asks if I need a ride home, and I shake my head while we wait for everyone to exit the room. It’s something I started after my accident—never wanting anyone to wait impatiently behind me while I limp out of the room.

“Why were you snickering under your breath during class?” Marley asks.

I smile because I can’t help it. I pull my phone out of my bag and hold it close to my chest. “I kind of… did something.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Did something? You look awfully naughty. Please tell.”

I roll my lips together and show her the before and after of Thorne’s portrait. Her jaw falls, and she covers her mouth with her hand. A laugh escapes in between her fingers, and a breathy laugh leaves me.

“You didn’t.” Marley snatches my phone and gapes at the photos again. She laughs even harder. Her blue eyes are as wide as saucers when she stares at me. “Why?”

I shrug. “He pissed me off.”

It isn’t until we’re outside that she hands the phone back and raises an eyebrow at me.

“He thought I was a stalker,” I admit. “Called me a jersey chaser. He walked in on me painting his face, and I don’t know—” I shrug. “It just irked me.”

Everything does.

“You’re such a boss,” Marley says in between a laugh. She grabs her phone and scrolls while we walk.

“Yeah, well, now I have to go fix it before their game, so joke’s on me.” I roll my eyes.

“No.” Marley laughs. “Joke’s on him.”

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust when she shows me the screen of her phone. My cheeks grow warm. Apparently the portrait has taken over social media, and there are endless comments and shares of the university’s favorite quarterback and hisdevilishface.

“Oh God,” I mutter.

At the time, painting him as a devil felt cathartic. I didn’t think it’d getthismuch traction. I’d only done it to get back at him, but leave it to the real jersey chasers to inflate his ego even more by sharing the locker room photo all over the internet and adding an emoji drool face beside it.

I read one conversation and can’t hold back the utter embarrassment for some of the girls.

@Cynthia_Thorne: Daddy always said to stay away from the devil, but I don’t think he’d keep me away from you, baby. @therealthorne

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