Page 10 of Beautiful Delusions

"Talk about bad luck," Becca mutters, the words distant, drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears. Fucking hell. Why can’t I have one day without incident? Throwing my tray onto the table, I seek out Letty. Her mouth is wide open but upon seeing the tears gathering in my eyes, she quickly stands.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be fine,” she soothes, picking spaghetti from my oversized sweater. Placing the empty cup upright amongst the soda spilled all over my tray, she looks over my shoulder and flinches. That’s the only warning I have as a sickening squelch slaps me in the back of the head. The sensation of wetness sliding down my neck instantly follows. Gasps ring around us as I reach back, fingers coming away coated in tomato sauce and noodles. Ezra's parting gift—a handful of spaghetti and a pair of gleeful blue eyes watching me from across the canteen.

"Son of a—" I bite back the rest of the curse, squeezing my eyes shut. Laughter erupts from a corner of the canteen, but I don't need to open my eyes to know its source. Ezra's mirth is a knife twisting in my gut.

"Hey, ignore him. He's just being an ass," Letty reassures, but her words are hollow.

“You know, they say when a boy bullies you, it’s because he likes you,” Becca bobs her brows. I see red.

“Shut up, Becca,” I snap. “Whose abusive fucking logic thinks bullying is akin to flirting?” The mirth around the table dies an instant death. I stand there, clenching my nails into my palms, stinking of tomato and onion, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Because, despite the ghosts that haunt me, the panic that claws at my throat, and thehallucinations that offer false comfort—I will not let the Thorn Brothers, of all people, see me falter.

Frustration coils around the tendrils of my sleep-deprived mind. Ezra’s arms bulge as he confidently crosses them over his white tight-fitting t-shirt, which appears all too clean. Ignoring the ghost of his warning glare and Jazzie's encouragement in my mind, I snatch a shiny red apple from Becca’s tray. My heart races as I hurl it with surprising accuracy at Ezra’s annoyingly smug face. The air around me goes silent, no one daring to inhale too sharply. I’ve never had a time-moving-slowly moment until right now, my heart hammering against my rib cage. The apple sails through the air, and just before it connects with his face, Ezra catches it with an impressive, almost nonchalant sweep of his arm. He takes a bite out of it, maintaining eye contact with me.

"Nice try," he mouths, twisting on his heel and throwing the apple further down the crowded canteen. It collides with a mountainous guy who looks like a beast made of hair and anger. If he’s our age, he must live on a diet of steroids and crusted bread. He turns gradually, breathing through his teeth.

“Who the fuck…” his question trails off as close to a hundred students shift. Every single one of them, even those sitting at my table, is pointing an accusing finger directly at me.

"Apparently, the new girl has a death wish,” Ezra shrugs, strolling across the space to pat the Monster Man on the shoulder. The other Thorn Brothers chuckle behind their hands, their faces alight with amusement, and that’s when I realize no one here is on my side. Not in this canteen, not on campus. Not in the entire world. The Monster Man’s eyes narrow into slits as they land on me, standing there with remnants of spaghetti still clinging to my hair.

Uh-oh, Jazzie whispers in my ear, her presence a trivial comforting reminder of my own courage.This isn't going to end well.

As if on cue, Monster Man twists like an Olympian shot-putter, vaulting his entire tray across the canteen. I duck beneath the plastic, catching the remnants of his chocolate milkshake and fries with my face. The rest of it has splattered a trail between us, covering those who happened to be sitting in the way. Suddenly, the entire canteen erupts into a chaotic food fight. Students, fueled by pent-up energy, launch their lunches at each other with wild abandon. Laughter and squeals fill the room as plates become makeshift shields and weapons. I grab the closest tray, crouching and covering my face as I creep beneath the table. A hand grabs my arm, dragging me back out.

"Oh, I don’t think so,” Lucas laughs menacingly. As per usual, there's a playful glint in his green eyes. “You started this mess. You don’t get to wriggle out of it.” Planting an orange in my head, Lucas makes a dramatic show of moving my arm and forcing me to throw it at Kyan’s chest. The man in question shifts his dark, endless gaze and smiles. Not the warm, sweet kind, but the sort of smile which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

"It wasn’t me?!" I shout, dodging a flying sandwich. I doubt he hears me.

The canteen is bustling with the echoes of laughter, shouts, and squeals as the food fight takes on a new level of mess. Lucas keeps his hold on my arm, although it isn't tight. Pulling me to follow him, my sneakers skid through pasta sauces and flecks of grated cheese.

"Duck!" Lucas laughs as a series of fried chicken legs batter my body like bullets. The perpetrators are a group of math nerds with thick, unruly curls and even thicker rims on their glasses. They've somehow erected a fort of trays and chessboards around their benches as if they've previously discussed a battle plan for this exact situation. Those of us who weren't prepared rush from table to table, the sound of scraping chairs and hooting laughter rife. I spot Ezra through the masses, standing with Kyan and Monster Man at the serving hatch. The dinner ladies are nowhere to be seen, leaving them with all of the ammunition. I vaguely frown, wondering why Lucas is all the way over here with me instead of with his brothers. Then I quickly remember, he's an asshole, and I don't really care. Grabbing a discarded burger from a table, he drags me onwards as I shed the bun and slap the patty on the back of his neck with a satisfying thud. Tomatoes and all sorts of salad chunks rain down on us as Lucas stills and turns on me, his eyes a shade dark.

"You're begging to be punished, Feisty One," he grins. That same grin was on Kyan's face not long ago. My heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears while my eyes dart to the doorway, trying to find an escape route. Lucas notices, his fingers digging painfully into my skin now. I let out a yelp and wrench away, hoping the baguette I smacked him over the head with is enough of a distraction to run. Instead, he lunges forward, grabbing me by the waist, and tosses us both to the floor. He's rolling us beneath a table while I struggle against the weight of his muscles. Those hands I can't be free of shift, one moving north and the other going south. His grip feels like iron around my throat, while the one which grabs my pussy through my jeans is soft. Seeking, caressing. My vision blurs at the edges as I try to squirm out of his grasp but fail miserably.

"You seem intent on burning the few bridges you have," Lucas' mouth is hot beside my ears. His fingers on my jeans refuse to stop their slow circles, increasing the heat in my core.

"You–" I rasp against his hold on my throat. Lucas shifts to cup my jaw instead. "You promised you'd keep it a secret."

"Keep what a secret?" Lucas goads, watching every conflicted expression pass through my feature. The chaos in the canteen continues around us with a roar. Students are screaming and laughing, launching food in every direction. It's like a warzone out here, and I'm caught right in the middle of it. I grit my teeth as Lucas smirks.

"Us," I grind out. His smile increases, like that of someone getting exactly what he wants.

"Us," he repeats. My chest heaves against his, trying to make some room between us. He's heavy, but damn if the length of him doesn't feel good. He knows it, too, rolling his hand against me, making me wish there wasn't a barrier between those taunting fingers and my wetness. My own hands lay uselessly at my sides, clenched into fists. I'm not fighting, although I know I should. Lucas towers over me, his grin menacing with unmasked amusement as his face begins its ascent. His hand on my jaw turns soft, his thumb stroking my cheek. That simple touch sends shivers down my spine which have nothing to do with fear or discomfort. The thrill is getting to me. Lucas' lips brush mine, we share a breath. I'm wrapped up in his feel, his scent of expensive cologne, and my eyes flutter closed.

A discarded tray crashes onto the table above us. Like a dagger through the spell I was under, I shove Lucas aside and scramble my way to freedom. Someone, please throw a bucket of ice-cold water at me because this bitch needs to cool off. From floor level, this food fight has gotten seriously out of hand. I'm army crawling through layers of soggy vegetables and pudding, the smells causing my stomach to churn. Lucas attempts to grab my legs, but I kick him off, hastily pushing myself upright and running for the door. I need to get out of here.

There’s no time to look back as I run through the onslaught. As if people have been waiting for me, I’m attacked with salads, pasta, everything really. I give up trying to dodge theassaults, my attention solely on an escape. Somewhere between the adrenaline and chaos, a smile stretches across my face. Exhilaration creates an intoxicating cocktail, and for the briefest moment, flying on slippery feet with a chest that feels too light, I feel alive.

"Behind you!" a girl shrieks, laughing as she intercepts a cupcake with her tray just before it hits me in the head. The room is a war zone; a flurry of food and laughter as I weave through the madness. My foot steps over the threshold, and with a gasp of relief, I throw myself through it, directly into the Dean’s Assistant, Lorna.

"Stop this at once!" Lorna grabs my arms and sets me aside. Her shrill voice cuts through the air like a knife. The canteen freezes, the disharmony silenced, every eye turning to face the Dean's assistant. She stands there, one hand clamped on my slimy wrist, her eyes scanning the room for the culprit who dared incite such mayhem.

"Who started this?" she demands, her voice devoid of humor or sympathy. By the way her fingers twitch against my skin, she already knows the answer. My heart sinks as everyone in the canteen collectively points at me once again. The weight of their judgment bears down on me. Lucas seeks me out amongst the crowd, his eyes full of concern even though his index finger is also raised. I’m going to knee him in the balls next time he corners me.

"Congratulations, Miss Chambers,” Lorna huffs, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "For the second time this week, I’d like to welcome you to my office."

Setting the final plate back in its cabinet, I wipe my forehead with the back of my head. Three days of being the dinner ladies’ pot wash during my lunch breaks wasn’t as bad a punishment as I had expected for unknowingly instigating a food fight. And after the counseling session Lorna sprung upon me, involving a series of breathing and trust exercises, I was more than happy to take whatever punishment she saw fit just to get out of her office.

I haven’t seen much of anyone since then, but more because I’ve been avoiding people where possible. I sit in the back ofthe class, I study in the library until closing. I’m convinced my roommate is a ghost since she never comes back when I’m around. All in all, I could quite happily go the rest of the semester like this, but my anxiety about seeing the Thorn Brothers has been sky-high and I’m down to my last pill. One I’m saving for emergencies.

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