Page 13 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
By the time I reached high school, girls were lined up and practically begging me to let them do my homework.
I was catnip for good girls looking to get dirty, and I used it to my advantage.
Now I stood outside the classroom, eavesdropping. The door was slightly ajar, so I could hear them. They obviously didn’t give a shit who overheard.
“I appreciate your asking, but I can’t do it,” the girl said. “I’m not the right person for the job.” I knew that voice. Low and kind of husky for a girl. Throaty. Sexy like her.
“Why don’t you take some time to think about it?” Ms. Whitman said. “I think you could really help him.”
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were talking about me. And I was pissed.
Poor Ridge. Too fucking stupid to pass English on his own.
“I don’t need to think about it,” the girl said. “There’s no way I can tutorhim. I’m sorry.” She’d tacked that onto the end as an afterthought. A mumbled apology with all the sincerity of a hooker claiming to be your one and only.
Resentment left a bitter taste on my tongue.
I moved away from the door and leaned against the wall, feet crossed at the ankles, hands tucked in my jean pockets. Like I was just hanging out and had nothing better to do at eight o’clock in the fucking morning.
I was waiting for her when she stepped into the hallway, her green eyes widening before she regained her composure and breezed past me without a second glance. Her usual MO.
Evie Fucking Bellamy.
I would find a way to make her pay for this.
Fortune favored the bold, and it smiled on me the following afternoon. Evie came looking for me. Maybe to apologize. Or to explain. No idea. I was otherwise occupied.
The funny part? Evie stayed to watch the show. And I did my part to ensure it was worth the price of admission.
I kept my eyes on her face. On her cherry red lips. On her tongue, that darted out to lick them. And I read the truth in her eyes.
She wanted me as much as I wanted her. To play with. To spar with. To devour whole.
If I was the hungry wolf, she was the sexier, more dangerous, and cunning twin of Little Red Riding Hood.
CHAPTERFIVE
Evie
On Monday afternoon,Quinn waved to me from our regular lunch table near the window. She had a big smile on her face as if seeing me brightened her day when it was the other way around.
On the way to our table, I overheard Delaney Richards talking to her friends. She was sitting with the other Honors students and goody-two-shoes kids.
“... and oh my god, Ridge McCallister is dumber than a box of rocks, I swear. He can barely read, let alone write an essay.” She laughed, and her friends joined in.
“Have you heard about the things he’s done?” her friend asked, eyes darting around the cafeteria, voice hushed.
“I know, right?” Delaney said. “To be honest, I was scared to be alone with him.” She shuddered.
I laughed because that was ridiculous. Ridge could be an asshole, but he wasn’t dangerous. Not in the way she meant, anyway.
She turned to face me, arching her perfect brows. She wore a pristine white blouse with all the buttons done up and a navy skirt more suited for a job interview at a Fortune 500 company than the hormone-infested halls of Cypress Springs High.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a condescending tone.
I wasn’t a fan. Last year we got paired together for a biology project. I did all the work, and she took all the credit. So I had no qualms about calling her out.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you can. Did I just hear you talking about Ridge McCallister?”
