Page 9 of Oliver

“I, um, wanted to, um, ask about my grade?” she stammers, and I mentally roll my eyes.

Way to play it cool.

Mr. G drops a piece of paper on his desk and says, oh so casually, “Now is not a good time. We can discuss it later during class, hm?”

She nods rapidly, her shiny blonde hair glinting in the late afternoon sun through the window. Strangely, she looks a bit like Dixie and with a frown, I drop my gaze.

Does he have a type? And if so, are the victims of the Lucky Charm killer the same?

Filing that question away for later, I pretend to study my nails until she backs out of the room, before looking up when he says, “Now then. I’m sorry, I have much to do. Maybe someone at the front office can help you?”

Fuck my brain hurts. This is quite possibly the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had and I’m not even counting the fact that I believe he killed my sister.

A quick glance at the door confirms we’re now alone and with my heart in my throat, I whisper, “I know what you did.”

His brows are furrowed when he meets my gaze and says, “What are you talking about?”

With a bitter smile, I slam my hand on the desk and hiss, “Don’t lie. Not to me.”

“Lie about what? Look, I think you should go before class starts,” he says.

A bitter chuckle escapes me, and I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore as I say over my shoulder, “That’s fine. I’m sure the principal would like to know about your fuck fest with my sister.”

“Hold up,” he barks, and I swivel around. “You should be very careful what you say, little girl.”

The moniker makes me shiver but I raise my chin and say through chattering teeth, “Or what? Are you threatening me?”

His eyes soften and he steps around the desk, approaching me with a gentle smile. My skin itches at the intensity behind his eyes though and I glance at the door, noting the students passing by in the hall.

The bell is about to ring. We’re surrounded by people. He won’t hurt me here.

“Listen, I know this is a tough time for you,” he starts, and I snort.

His eyes narrow as he stops before me and tipping my head back, I meet his gaze and shake my head. In so many ways, he looks exactly like Oliver and the imagery makes me dizzy.

“Accusing a teacher of something so egregious is slander. I would hate to have to defend myself. Especially in this atmosphere of litigation. Can your mother afford to defend you in court?”

Slander. Litigation. Court. What the fuck is he talking about?

Any words I might have spoken are stuck in my throat and I sag when Oliver says from the door, “Penny?”

I know I said I’d rather avoid the jerk who played me like a fucking violin but right now, he’s a damn godsend.

Without another word, I sidle past Mr. Goodlow but I’m trapped between him and the desk, forcing me to brush his shoulder as I go. Oliver’s cold green gaze is pinned to his father as I step into the hall.

Once free, I breathe deeply and close my eyes. What the fuck just happened?

I have zero time to process shit though because Oliver grabs my arm and hustles me down the hall. I’d protest but I can’t figure shit out without his help whether he gives it willingly or not. Keep your enemies closer and all that.

After shoving me into a closet, he shuts the door behind us, and my throat starts to close. It’s dark and I can’t see for shit, but I feel him just fine when Oliver steps into me and says, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take your ass back home and leave this shit alone.”

Relaxing at his proximity which is so fucking twisted I can only chuckle silently, I bow my head.

Why does this sound achingly fucking familiar?

With a bitter smile, I tap his chest, ignoring the tingle in my fingertips and say, “I guess I don’t know what’s good for me because I’m not going anywhere.”

Even if I could walk away from this, I wouldn’t tell Oliver. Let him stew over whatever I’m doing. Let him worry, just like his piece of shit father.

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