Page 26 of Vicious Games

“And I agreed with you.”

“No, you were being condescending.”

“Big word for someone who probably doesn’t even own a thesaurus.”

“Argh! God, you’re insuf… annoying,” he corrects himself at the last second.

“And yet you’re still here!”

“I’M LEAVING.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Bye-bye, now.”

“Bye.”

This time, he actually leaves, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense, looking like he’s itching to punch something.

I know the feeling.

My heart is racing as I watch him go, my grip so tight on my pencil that it snaps in half.

What the hell was that?

Why do I allow Lucky Romano to get under my skin like this?

Everything about him rubs me the wrong way.

And apparently, I can’t shut up about it.

I’m still tense as hell, so I push back the chair and shove my things into my backpack. But as I do, I realize that my spat with Lucky caught the attention of everyone in the library.

Whispers ripple through the room like a slow-building wave, hushed voices trading speculations just loud enough for me to catch fragments of my own name being uttered. A few students exchange smirks, leaning close to their friends, hands covering their mouths as they murmur in each other’s ears. Others don’t bother hiding their amusement, their snickers breaking the imposed silence, judging gazes darting to me as if we had just put on a show for their entertainment and critique.

My skin prickles with the weight of their stares. The air suddenly becomes too thick and suffocating.

I need to get out of here.

I don’t want to spend another minute in this godforsaken library now that everyone has witnessed yet another showdown between me and Lucky, which will only serve as a catalyst for further gossip about me.

I grab my bag and race out the door, bumping into two girls along the way, causing them to drop their books to the floor.

“Watch it!”

“Look where you’re going, fat ass!”

Instead of an apology, I throw the girls an ‘I’ll fuck you up’ glare before making my not-so-quick getaway.

Lucky said that I’m obsessed with my weight. But I’m not.

I don’t care that I’m a little overweight. As long as I’m healthy, who gives a shit that I have more curves than the average girl?

I am not obsessed.

But when most of the insults I hear at this school revolve around my size, yeah, maybe I get a little prickly.

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