Page 25 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“His bike is at my place, but he’ll walk. He’s not dumb enough to get on a bike right now, but he is crashing with me tonight.” Something akin to skepticism flits through his eyes. I think he’s hoping he’s right. Nerves flutter through me. I may not like the him, but getting on a bike sober is dangerous, let alone when he’s intoxicated. “I’m sorry he left like that, Fox.”

Not one to fret over the small things, she brushes it off with a toss of her hand. She’s not Riggs’ biggest fan either, but she doesn’t have a problem with him. After the way he is treating me, she should, you know, hatred by association, but Foxy isn’t one of those people. She knows I did wrong and deserve a little hazing. The bitch may be my ride or die, but she’ll call me on my bullshit before she rides.

“No biggie. He is grown, he can do what he wants. Plus, I’m so drunk right now, I probably won’t even remember he left early when I wake up tomorrow afternoon.”

They laugh, and J beams when Foxy places her hand on his chest.

“What’s his problem, anyway?” I ask before I can keep my mouth shut. An involuntary reaction that I regret as soon as the question leaves my lips. It’s obvious Riggs has problems of his own that are none of my business.

“Riggs is a dark creature, Charley. He’s had a lot on his plate since he was little. It’s not my story to tell, though. I’d say ask him, but judging from that little show, I’d say you’re not his favorite person?” He poses the last part as a question. I wonder if Riggs has shared any of his feelings toward me with Jensen.

“I’m inclined to agree,” I murmur.

“What was that about?” Foxy inquires, raising a brow. “He looked at you like he wanted to murder you while he fucked your brains out.” A blush creeps up my cheeks. Leave it to Foxy to say something so off the wall.

Jensen almost chokes on the swig of the beer he is gulping down.

“Hedoesn’twant to fuck me, Foxy. He hates the fact that I exist.”

“Riggs hates that fact that most people exist,” Jensen laughs, but sends me an apologetic look.

“Jesus, Charles, what did you do?”

“Pissed in his cereal, apparently,” I mumble to myself and look up at her. “I’ve talked to you about Rusty Crotch, but I noticed the other day that he didn’t have food at lunch, and instead of leaving it alone and assuming he wasn’t hungry, my dumbass took him a tray of food.” Foxy’s eyes go wide.

“You thought he couldn’t afford lunch, didn’t you?” She asks knowingly.

“Guilty.” I grimace. “It was stupid, and I’m the biggest asshole on earth.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Jensen comes to my defense. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have, especially to Riggs, of all people, but that is the sweetest thing I’ve seen someone do in a long time. Especially someone that goes to Bleudale. Don’t sweat it, okay? He’s salty—always has been, always will be. Deep down, under all that brooding exterior and don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, he’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. He’ll come around.”

“No, I don’t think he will. And I’m not trying to make friends with him. Not really. I wish he didn’t hate me so much for my mistakes. He doesn’t even know me.”

“And you don’t know him,” Jensen says.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t. I guess I can’t judge a book by its cover if I don’t want him to judge me by mine.”

CHAPTER12

“Here we go,”Riggs huffs out a breath in our creative writing class. He’s referring to the fact that he deems me incompetent and he’ll have to carry me through the classes that we have to work together on. I tap my pencil on the desk angrily. Professor Jones assigned our first group project where we have to write a poem best describing our partner. I’m not happy about it in the least because he’s going to do nothing but ridicule me.

Two seconds in and he’s already started.

I don’t bother with arguing, sighing, or showing any ounce of my annoyance toward the situation. It will only fuel his fire. He has enough hatred bottled and waiting to supply him for years to come. I can see it every time he looks at me. Or doesn’t.

Hell, if I’m even close enough that he can see me, his eyes glaze over and his nostrils flare. It’s likely he has a disgust radar built in with an arrow pointing straight toward my name. That way, he knows when I’m walking down the hall or in proximity to him.

I laugh inwardly at my thoughts. This entire situation is ridiculous. Instead of giving him any sort of ammo to use against me and figuring we could use some time to get over our distaste for this project, I collect my books, loop my messenger bag over my head, and remove myself from the classroom when the bell rings.

Surprise jolts through me when Riggs corners me at my locker. Sifting through my books, I drop what I’ll need for my homework into my book bag without acknowledging his presence. Tonight is the only night this week I don’t have hockey, book club, or any research projects to finish, so I’m going to go home, sit by the pool, and for once put all of my brain power into my homework instead of doing the least amount possible to get by.

“Are we going to discuss this assignment or are you going to leave me to finish it for you?” He can’t help himself, can he? I guess when it comes to his grade, though, he will brave the storm a bit, at least. I want to be snarky and sass him back, but that will create more of an argument, and I’m trying to have a decent afternoon.

When I have my bag loaded, I look at him and ask, “When is your free period? Maybe we can meet in the library and go over the questions.” I can’t help it if my face says I am more than over being around him for the day. He deserves every bit of my resting bitch face.

“No, I’m not spending my free period talking about assignments with you. Write some bullshit about poor white trash me, and I’ll write some nursery rhymes about a rich girl with a stuck up attitude.” I roll my eyes, closing my locker and moving on down the hallway. I will not do this with him. If he can’t be respectful, then I’m out.

His annoyed sigh and the squeak of his Tims as he moves to catch up with me grate my nerves. With my hand, I cover the smile working my lips. “Where are you going?”

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