Page 14 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“Have a good day, Chuckey.” He offers me a sweet smile as I slip from the truck and shut the door.

“You too, Dad,” I mock to cover how I am feeling, and Chandler shakes his head as he drives off, chuckling.

CHAPTER8

“Foxy,he showed up at my house this morning. I thought Chandler was going to kill him.” We’re hanging out in the parking lot waiting for the bell to ring. The top is off of my Wrangler, but we’re working to put it back together because it’s supposed to rain. Thank God for rain. This heat and humidity is next level. Sometimes a gloomy rainy day is just what you need.

Sasha Sloan is singing in the background as we work, and I mouth the words to the song.

Foxy threads a zipper, shaking her head. “You should’ve let him.”

“It wasn’t a matter of letting him. I wouldn’t have stopped him if he wanted to. Chandler would rather do things by the book, though, and start with a restraining order.”

“Wait, is this a serious worry? Do we need to be concerned?” The metallic swishing sound lets me know all of her pieces are in place. When I’m finished zipping mine, I loop my backpack over my shoulder. My hockey back can wait because I’m not about to carry it in now with all the students trying to file in the door. I’ll wait until this afternoon. That will give me a chance to have a bit of a break outside in the rain before practice anyhow.

“I mean, I wasn’t that worried until Chandler got all super protective and asked if I wanted a shadow. He’s just making sure I’m comfortable, I bet.” I round the front of the Jeep and link arms with my bestie.

Her tits are super perky today, her fiery hair skillfully placed in a purposeful, messy bun on top of her head. She can pull it off. Every time I go for a messy bun, I look like I haven’t showered for days, or I have bedhead. Not Foxy, though. A messy bun is sexy on her and judging from the looks we are getting from the guys on campus, they agree.

I laugh inwardly because my bestie knows and is swaying her hips to give them an extra show.

The distant growl of Jensen’s Lexus, which is imprinted in my brain from my stellar meeting with Mr. Sutton on Friday night, meets my ears before he even pulls onto campus. I roll my eyes and let the thoughts linger in the back of my mind. Whether Riggs is riding with him is none of my concern. He needed a ride that afternoon, but that doesn’t mean he is riding with him now. Still, my eyes scan the parking lot for his bike. Against my better judgment, I note it isn’t here.

He’s not the one I should look for. I should make sure that Jonas isn’t about to start shit.

“Don’t worry, babe. I got your back. I won’t let him hurt you, and if I hear anything around campus, I’ll shut it down.”

“Thanks, Fox. I can always count on you,” I murmur. My heart races when I hear Jensen’s car enter the lot. I wonder if Foxy has this same reaction when he pulls in, or if she even notices. She knows his car and says so anytime we see him around town, but I’m not sure if she is aware of his presence or even cares.

She’s not obsessed with someone who would rather see her burned at the stake.

I shake my head to dispel the thoughts of Riggs, but I can’t help that I’m drawn to the sound of his voice as he laughs with Jensen from only a few feet behind us. They’re talking about a party they had over the weekend, and how Riggs pissed Layla off. I’m not sure what he’s doing with her, but I’ve seen them around campus together. Outside of her, I’ve never noticed him with anyone. He doesn’t date the girls here, which makes sense considering how he feels about rich people. I’m surprised he even messes with her. His non playboy status is relieving, I guess.

Wait… no. His relationship status, or lack thereof, is none of my concern.

All the reasons to stay away from him. He would never date me. Not only am I rich and everything he stands against, but I have a shit reputation.

Still, I can’t stop myself from listening in on their conversation. According to them, Jensen tortured his liver at that party, and it is still revolting. He doesn’t sound good at all as we enter the building. It even surprises him that he's standing and at school.

Lockers aren’tcommon in Universities but Bleudale isn’t for common folk. There aren’t many dorms on campus because most of the elite like to keep their kids home in the safety of their guards and away from the scholarship students. We have lockers because our schedule keeps us on campus most of the day and they like to encourage us to get our work done before we leave for the day. With lockers we can keep our books there and not have to lug them home where we’re likely to leave our work unfinished.

Foxy stops at her locker, and I continue to mine. The hallway is bustling. Students are knocking into me, rowdy for a Monday morning. I try to focus on the physics quiz we’ve been studying for, but my brain can’t process anything over the noise that is carrying through the hallway. I stuff my books in my bag so I can get to class early and cram some more before the quiz.

I’m so intent on rushing and aware of the electric glance Riggs sent my way that I don’t notice the sea of students parting. A jolt of stinging pain ricochets through my asscheek, and a crack pierces the air. I jump out of my skin, yelping as I turn my glare on the culprit. Jonas is laughing as he wraps his arm over my shoulder, leaving me freaked out, frozen in place, and unable to move or say anything.

What the actual fuck is he doing?

Raucous laughter breaks out over the student body, and the guys whoop and holler. Did we ever even leave high school? It doesn’t feel like any of them are more mature than they were last year. I guess that’s what we get for all being at the Academy together since we were in pre-k.

“Get that ass,” someone yells.

“They’re back!” another calls out and pure joy ripples through the halls while hatred fizzes in my heart.They’re back, my asshole.Jonas and I will never happen, ever again. I’m ashamed that we happened in the first place.

Dread fills my stomach, curdling the protein shake I had for breakfast.

After I finished my run, I did a circuit of weight training to further exhaust myself after all of Jonas’ nonsense, so all I could stomach was a vanilla shake. Now I’m glad because the nausea rolling around in my system is potent and anything else wouldn’t taste very good coming back up.

My heart is burning up its spot in my chest as I wait for Jonas’ next move. I will not give him any sort of response. The harder I fight him right now, the further he will push this. I guess meeting Chandler this morning wasn’t enough to keep him away from me. But then again, he probably doesn’t remember coming to my house. He was so messed up. Chandler’s talk is not even registering with him. I will tell him when we are in a more private setting that he cannot touch me anymore. I refuse to fake it with him.

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