Page 36 of Ruthless Rose

Chapter 22

Surprisingly, Alora has kept to herself after our confrontation yesterday. I’m not sure if she’d finished unleashing all of her wrath on me or if she’s simply plotting her next round of torture. Either way, I’d be perfectly happy if she never spoke to me again, which is kind of funny since I have to attend the homecoming committee meeting on Saturday. Ugh. I can’t win.

I know in the back of my mind there’s no way she’s going to let up. First, she doesn’t like the time Micah spends with me, regardless of whether he’s being forced by his coach to do it or not. Her need to make sure I knew they’re going to the homecoming dance together makes that obvious.

Second—and I’m not imagining this—Micah’s gaze locks on me whenever we’re in the same space. I caught him staring at me in Spanish class earlier today, a hot look in his eyes. I’d been startled by the ugly look on Alora’s face when she noticed where his attention was. Her brows had drawn together, and I could almost sense the gears in her brain turning. I bet she’s trying to decide if I was telling her the truth when I’d said he’d had his hands on me already.

Has what we’ve done even meant anything to him, though? He keeps calling it an experiment, so what am I supposed to think?

According to Alora, I’m definitely not worthy of Micah’s attention. I feel it every time she pins her cruel eyes on me. She sees him as hers—or something like that. He’s like a toy to her, and now that she sees someone else playing with him, she wants him all to herself.

I grit my teeth, realizing now that I’d stayed longer in the library than I’d intended today by helping Mrs. Traiger when she’d gotten locked out of the library’s computer. Swiftly surveying a bunch of athletes walking out to their cars, it hits me that if I don’t get moving, Micah will beat me to the coffee shop. And after that talk with Kendra, I really don’t want to think about what she might say to him without me there. Would she question him like she had me?

As I get closer to where my car is parked at the far end of the lot, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. A whole bunch of kids have circled my Honda Civic and seem to be pointing at it and laughing. What the hell? As I get closer, I go up on my tiptoes trying to see past everyone. What is on my—

Holy shit.There’s a huge DD sprayed on my windshield in … I don’t even know. Could be shaving cream or whipped cream, I can’t tell. Whatever it is, it’s thick. They must have used cans and cans to get that kind of coverage. It’s actually pretty impressive and would probably be kind of funny if I wasn’t the target.

I inhale and hold my breath for a few seconds, surveying the mess. I swivel to look around, wondering if whoever did this is watching my reaction. I doubt any of the people ogling the mess are the culprits.

I mean, could it really be anyone but Alora? She’s been calling me Double D—for Daphne Davis—for over a week now. Is she trying to push Aria to the side and earn the title of Queen Bitch for herself? Because she’s awfully close to succeeding.

Mitchell Jones, a junior, hears me approaching and lets out a huge guffaw when he sees me behind everyone. “Dude, is this your car, Daphne?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“You must have pissed off someone really bad. Looks like whipped cream.” Another member of the football team, Jack Stone, laughs. “I bet I know who it was, too.”

Griffin Danbrook—Beau’s brother—shakes his head. “Totally reeks of Alora, although she never gets her hands dirty. I bet she paid some schmuck to do it.” He steps forward to scoop up a handful and it smears, leaving behind a thick film. He grunts, flinging it to the ground. He looks up as Beau approaches. “Look at her car, bro.”

Beau is one of the few football players I’ve never been nervous around, and I think it’s because he’s a funny guy—great sense of humor. I can’t imagine him hurting a fly. I shrug as he looks between me and my car, scowling. “Alora?”

“I mean, I assume so.” I do have to be a little careful here. Alora is one of the girls he sleeps with on a fairly regular basis, if the rumors are true.

He scrubs his hand through his hair. “She’s crazy. Sorry.”

“It’s not like you did it. Apparently, she’s out for blood.” Ugh. There is no way I’m going to be able to drive with this on the windshield.

“Or whipped cream. You know, one or the other.” Beau chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

I give him a half-smile. It’s all I can manage.

Though most of the onlookers are still laughing, they’re also backing away, heading to their cars to leave. Griffin shrugs his shoulders, gritting his teeth. “I think you should drive it to a car wash or take it home to get it clean.” He wipes his hand on his T-shirt. “Otherwise, if you try to scrape it off, you’re going to have a huge mess, and not be able to see through to drive. You’ll get into an accident or something.”

Beau gives my poor car another look. “Agreed. Unless you can get another ride home?”

I nod. “Thanks. But then I’d just have the same mess to deal with tomorrow.”

He grimly smiles. “True dat, sweetness.” He winces for a second. “Do you want me to call Mic—”

“No.”

He holds both hands up. “Understood. Sorry.”

Now that Mitchell and Jack have stopped laughing, they almost look sorry for me. Griffin claps his hand on Beau’s shoulder. “You guys ready to go?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Beau fidgets, hesitating to leave.

I wave them off. “Oh. Yeah, sure. I’m fine.”

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