Page 43 of The Pawn

"Get them off! Get them off! What the fuck—" A sob of anger and disgust. "Who did this?"

Holly sprints into the boys' locker room without a care, but I just hang back, knowing that my face will give me away.

A moment later Cole comes barreling out of the locker room, brushing frantically at the front of his shirt. Dozens of spiders are crawling up and down his clothes. He screams as they crawl down his collar, then grabs his shirt and yanks it off, shaking it.

Shirtless, he reveals the muscular plane of his chest. He works out, you can tell, but that's not what shocks me.

There's a large scar running from his shoulder to his hip, thick and twisted, from a relatively recent, life-threatening injury.

"Fuck!" He's stomping on his shirt, trying to get the spiders off, when his eyes find me. "You did this, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Cole advances on me, the fear gone from his eyes and replaced with cold, dark rage. "You fucking bitch. You took it a step too far."

He gets so close that I'm forced to press my back against the wall, cowering from him. Despite myself, fear thrums in me at the look in his eyes. I meant to be far away from him when he opened his locker, but I couldn't resist hearing and seeing the fruits of my revenge.

That was a mistake.

"You're going to pay for this."

"This dramatic shit again." He's bracketed me with his arms, trapped me against the wall. I push against his chest, angry to find that he's too strong for me to push away. "You're full of it, you know that? You sent a girl to do your dirty work."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, like he's not the one who got Georgia to mess with my harness. "What I do know is that everything up to now will be a picnic compared to what I'm going to do to you next."

His breath skims my cheek with every angry word. The muscles of his chest are taut beneath my hands, resisting my pushes and tugs as I try to get him away from me. I can't tell anymore what's going on, can't make my beating heart straighten out the frantic jumping of its rhythm.

I want to press my mouth against his.

I want to bring him to his knees in pain.

I want to see him beg for more—pleasure or pain, I can't quite decide.

"Try your worst." I lift my chin, staring up into his dark eyes, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath my palm. There are students gathering at the edges of the hallway, watching us, impossibly quiet. "I don't care what you do to me, including what happened today. I'm not going to stop."

Confusion knits his brow. My fingers curl against his chest; I don't know where to put my hands anymore. He opens his mouth to say something.

"There you are!" Holly comes around the corner and tugs on Cole's hand. "C'mon, let's get you into the shower." She surreptitiously reaches up and plucks a spider from his hair, yanking him off me, her eyes full of worry. "This way Babe. I'll take care of it for you."

As they disappear back into the locker room, a crowd of boys shows up at the entrance, milling around in confusion. I meet Lukas's bright blue eyes, see him zero in on me, his head cocked curiously to the side. I can tell what he's wondering: was it me? Did I do this?

Staring straight at him, I smile.

Let him try to catch me a second time.

I won't fall for him ever again.

Chapter 22

Staring at myself in the mirror, I wonder if I'm seeing things. "That's... me?"

The hair stylist fluffs up the sides of my now-blonde, balayage hair. "It looks great with your coloring. And the trim is just perfect to go with the shape of your face." She flicks at the face-framing layers she gave me, which somehow slim down my chubby cheeks. "Now all you need is the makeover next door and you'll be good to go."

"Thank you so much."

She brings me to the front counter, handing over the ticket with a description of the services I got: balayage color, toning, a haircut, and a blowout. The total makes me sweat beneath the collar, but thankfully I'm not paying for it. I hand over the black card with a smile.

"Thank you so much for trusting us with your hair today, Georgia," the receptionist says. "Would you like to book the next appointment now, or later?"

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