Page 25 of Counter Bet

“See you later, princess,” Ben chuckles behind me.

I don’t look back, but his eyes burn through me the whole way.

* * *

Dallas finally makes an appearance at lunchtime. She weaves between cramped tables as she makes a beeline for her friends. Her black hair is up in a messy bun, and she’s dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a tank top, but there’s something different about her.

Ben looks up from his plate when she plops into the chair next to him. His smile falls away, and he narrows his eyes, dropping his fork down on the lunch tray.

She blows a strand of hair away from her mouth as she pops the lid on her drink.

He grabs her soda, places it down on the table, and then lifts her chin to inspect her face. She tries to pull away, but his grip is too strong. He says something to her, and she shakes her head, trying again to pull her chin away.

I frown when he lets her go, and I catch a glimpse of her split lip and bruised cheek.Who did that to her?Did she get into another fight over the weekend? Why do I care anyway? I shouldn’t be curious about Dallas Garcia. She’s bad news!

* * *

As I’m heading to my locker at the end of the school day, I spot Dallas turning down a side corridor.

After checking that the coast is clear, I run after her. My heels click loudly on the floor. She’s got her earplugs in and is too absorbed in her phone to notice me.

“Dallas!” I shout, hitching my bag up higher on my shoulder.

She turns in surprise and removes her earplugs. I’m the last person she expects to see right now, judging by the look on her face.

I grab her elbow, steering her into an empty classroom. Sunlight streams in through the drawn blinds. We’re in the chemistry lab. The whiteboard still has the notes from today’s lesson, and the faint sound of students on their way home filters through an open window. Rick is waiting to take me home, so I don’t have long.

I lock the door. Up close, the bruising on Dallas’ cheek looks far worse. Her entire left cheek is swollen, and her bottom lip has a jagged cut going through it. It looks sore.

“Who did that to you?” I ask, reaching out to touch her face but stopping myself. We’re not friends.

Dallas narrows her eyes. “It’s none of your business, princess.”

She reminds me of a venomous snake, coiled and poised to strike.

I rub at the sudden ache in my chest. It pains me to see the shame she tries so hard to disguise. I drop my eyes to my red heels. I picked them this morning because I liked how they contrast with my grey summer dress. I’m not so sure I do now. Our class difference is glaringly obvious.

I stare at my expensive red heels next to her scuffed and dirty chucks. My shoes cost more than her entire wardrobe. It doesn’t make me feel proud. Quite the opposite. We’re from different worlds entirely.

“Why did you do it?” I whisper shakily.

There’s something about Dallas. She makes me feel emotions that I’m not ready to acknowledge yet. My hands are clammy, and my heart is racing.

Her shoes brush up against mine. “Did what?” She frowns. “Look, if this is about the other night, I wanted to challenge you. I saw the way you looked at me in the bathroom. I figured—”

I shake my head. “No, not that.”

“Then what?”

I hug myself with my arms and take a step back to create space between us. I feel oddly vulnerable as tears blur my vision. The silence in the room is deafening despite the sounds coming from outside.

I blink rapidly to stop the tears from falling, inhaling a shuddering breath. “You filmed us, Dallas….”

There it is—the hurt. Despite everything, I’m not angry about what happened between us. I don’t regret it. I’m hurt that she filmed us without my knowledge and consent.

She doesn’t respond, which is all the confirmation I need.

Something inside me shifts. I drop my hands down by my sides. “Why did you do it?” I’m surprised by the acidic tone in my voice.

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