Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen Page 10

  “HEY.” PIERCE SLIDES up next to me, leaning his shoulder against the locker next to mine. “I tried calling you yesterday to find out how Saturday night went. When you didn’t answer I started to worry that maybe they did suffocate you with a pillow.” He grins.

  “Nope. I’m still breathing.” I grab a couple of books from my locker.

  “I see you got your new lock.” He gestures to my locker.

  “Yeah, I stopped by the office and picked it up this morning. The janitor cut the other one off over the weekend. I’m taking bets on how long it will be before this one mysteriously stops working.” I shove the books under my arm before closing the door and sliding the lock in place.

  “Who knows? Maybe they’ll start playing nice.”

  “Not likely.” I roll my eyes, following Pierce when he turns and heads in the direction of my first period class. It’s kind of become our thing. He meets me at my locker and we play catch up as he walks me to class.

  “So….” He gives me a sideways glance, clearly waiting for me to say something.

  “So, what?” I shift my books from one arm to the other.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened Saturday after I left?”

  “Nothing happened,” I answer too quickly.

  “Don’t think I can’t read you. Spill.” He knocks his shoulder into mine.

  “There’s nothing to spill.” I shake my head, not sure how much, if anything, I want to tell him. It’s kind of impossible to talk about something you don’t understand yourself.

  “Now why don’t I believe that?” He turns and pulls me to the side as we reach my class.

  “Can we talk about it later?” I shift nervously from one foot to the other, my gaze sweeping down the hallway in search of the one person I’m both terrified and excited to see.

  “Is it that bad?” he questions, misreading my expression. Then again, maybe he’s not misreading it, especially if the epiphany I had this morning actually ends up being true.

  “I guess it depends on what you define as bad.” I knead my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Now you’ve really piqued my interest.”

  “I’ll fill you in at lunch,” I promise, the second warning bell sounding through the halls.

  “Fine,” he groans. “I can’t be late to first, anyway. One more tardy and Ms. Mullins will likely have me sitting in detention for a week.”

  “Well we wouldn’t want that.” I smile when he wraps an arm around me and pulls me in for a half hug.

  “Try not to get yourself into trouble between now and lunch.” He pulls back, tipping my chin upward with his hand.

  “I’ll do my best,” I tell him, freezing when I catch sight of Zayden heading toward us. I groan at the sight of him but not for the reason I’m sure others would think.

  When he wasn’t at his locker this morning, I wondered if he was even here. Turns out he was probably just avoiding me.

  His expression is hard, his shoulders tense—straining against the fabric of his gray t-shirt as he stalks in our direction. Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he snags my arm.

  “We need to talk,” he growls as he hooks an arm through mine and hauls me backward, away from Pierce.

  “Zayden.” I shake loose of his hold.

  “You can go now,” Zayden tells my friend, who seems to be frozen in place.

  “It’s okay,” I mouth, meeting Pierce’s confused expression. I have no idea what Zayden wants, but based on the curtness of his voice and the look in his eyes, I’d venture to say it’s not something I want Pierce to witness.

  I can tell he’s not sure if he should leave me alone with Zayden, but after a long moment he nods and turns, heading in the opposite direction.

  “What the fuck did you tell him?” Zayden clips the moment Pierce is out of earshot.

  “What?” I draw back, taken aback by the harshness of his tone.

  “You heard me. What did you tell him?”

  “What are you talking about?” I square my shoulders, refusing to shrink under his intimidating glare.

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Rylee. We both know what I’m talking about.” His tone eases, but his expression doesn’t.

  “I don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “I have to get to class.” I try to move as the final bell sounds, but Zayden blocks my path.

  I look to my left and then to my right, ensuring that we’re alone and Oliver isn’t lurking somewhere close by, ready to deliver his next round of humiliation.

  “If you’re referring to what happened Saturday, I didn’t tell him anything,” I answer after a long pause. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to tell.” This seems to get his attention and he steps closer, backing me into the lockers behind me.

  “Nothing to tell, huh?” he grunts, leaning in until his face is so close to mine I can feel his warm breath on my face. “That’s not the impression I got when my mouth was on you, tasting your sweet skin.” I jump when the back of his hand grazes my collarbone.

  “What do you want, Zayden?” I try to keep my voice even, despite the fact that my insides are trembling.

  “I just wanted to make sure we understood each other, which it seems we do.” He takes a full step back, and I swear I nearly protest the loss.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Now that you’ve cleared that up—is there anything else you need? Or do you want to play on my emotions with another sob story and see how far you can take this little game of yours?”

  “Come again?” His gaze narrows, and I can tell I’ve struck a nerve.

  “I’m just saying, if you want to fuck with me, there are more creative ways you can do it.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?” His expression softens slightly.

  “I don’t think—I know. So whatever it is you’re playing at, whatever you and Oliver have cooked up, I’m not falling for it. Guess you two will have to go back to the drawing board.”

  “You think Oliver had something to do with me kissing you?” He closes in on me again, dipping down to meet my eyes. I swallow, not able to push any words out past the sudden lump in my throat. “Let me make one thing clear, me kissing you had nothing to do with Oliver. Maybe I kissed you because I wanted to.”

  “Yeah, because you like me so much.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.

  “I don’t like you, Rylee.” If words could slice flesh, I’d be bleeding out all over the floor right now. It’s not like I didn’t already know he hated me but hearing him say as much stings a hell of a lot more than it should.

  “Well I don’t like you either.” It’s a lame rebuttal, but the only thing I can come up with on the spot.

  Before I even know what’s happening, Zayden’s lips crash down onto mine. I can’t think, can’t breathe, or even move. I’m lost to the sensation—to the way his mouth moves skillfully against mine.

  He grabs both of my hands and pins them to the locker behind me—my books crashing to the floor as his tongue slides past the seam of my lips and dips into my mouth. A full body tremor runs through me. My body arches into him, aching for his touch.

  I can’t explain my reaction to him—hell, I don’t even understand it myself. But it’s like my body is acting on its own accord—betraying the voice in my head screaming for it to stop.

  Zayden kisses me hard, unforgiving, almost punishing, and I drink every ounce of it in—not able to get enough. I hate myself for how badly I want this—for how badly I want him.

  The kiss ends as abruptly as it began, and my eyes flutter open to find very heated ocean blue eyes staring back at me.

  I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’m not even sure what I would say if I could find words. My body feels like I just touched a live wire—the aftereffects of the shock are still coursing through me.

  “Seems like you like me just fine,” Zayden scoffs, his hard mask slipping bac
k into place.

  As if this were the reaction I needed from him to snap out of it, I take a deep breath and step toward him.

  “Do not ever fucking kiss me again.” I stab at his chest with my pointer finger.

  “And what are you going to do if I do?” He seems amused by my reaction, which only pisses me off more. If I had any doubt he was playing some kind of game, I don’t anymore.

  “Trust me when I say, you don’t want to find out.” With that, I snag my books off the floor and spin around, stomping into class without so much as a backward glance.

  I nod an apology to the teacher, who pauses for a brief second when I enter before diving back into the day’s lesson. My hands tremble as I slide into my seat, and tears sting the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

  I don’t know what bothers me more—learning that this really is just a game to Zayden or the fact that I let myself hope that it was something more.

  When Zayden enters the classroom a couple of minutes later, I don’t make any attempt to look at him. His scent invades my nostrils as he glides past me, and even though I’m so mad at him and myself for what just transpired in the hallway, it doesn’t stop me from breathing him in as deeply as my lungs will allow.

  I guess I really am a glutton for punishment….

  ZAYDEN

  I THROW MY BOOTED feet up on the chair in front of me and watch as students come in droves into the cafeteria. Some head for the lunch line, while others join their cliquey groups at their usual tables. I roll my eyes when a couple of cheerleaders prance by in their uniforms and a group of guys whistle and jeer at them. Of course, the girls eat up the attention; flipping their blonde hair over their shoulders, pushing out their tits, and casting the guys a come-fuck-me look.

  Behind them, Tiffany walks in. I bite back a curse when she immediately sets her eyes on me. I really need to start spending my lunches outside with the potheads; thirty-degree weather be damned. I’m in no fucking mood to deal with her today.

  Being the cheer captain, she’s also decked out in her cheer uniform. Tonight is a rival basketball game between Parkview and Westerland, so there’s a prep rally at the end of the school day to pump up the team. Parkview High has always been very competitive when it comes to sports.

  “Hey, Z,” Tiffany croons, plopping her ass down on my lap, as if it’s her place to do so, when it sure as fuck isn’t. The bitch knows this too, because I’ve told her multiple times.

  I grab her waist, about to shove her ass to the floor, when I feel an intense stare on me. I glance toward the doorway and find a pair of angry brown eyes drilling holes in my skull. I don’t know if her ire is left over from what happened in the hallway yesterday or from the girl currently occupying my lap. I decide to find out. Grabbing Tiffany’s waist, I pull her closer to me instead of pushing her away. My lips quirk up into a smirk when her glare intensifies.

  Yep, Rylee doesn’t like Tiffany snuggled up to me. Jealousy is a bitch, but I find I like it on Rylee.

  “God!” Tiffany draws out the word. “I can’t believe Mr. Bernard gave us homework on a game night.”

  Her whining grates on my nerves, and my fingers twitch to get her the fuck off me, but there’s something I want more. If I can’t have Rylee sitting on my dick, then the next best thing is seeing her green with envy, wishing it were her in my lap. She can deny it all she wants. The look in her eyes says she’s visualizing scratching Tiffany’s eyes out and sliding into her place.

  “Are you even listening to me, Z?”

  I peel my eyes off Rylee and look at Tiffany’s made-up face.

  “It’s five fucking questions, Tiffany. I think you can manage,” I tell her with as much patience as I can muster.

  Her bottom lip sticks out into a pout. “Yeah, but it’s the point. He knows our focus needs to be on the game and not some dumb questions about what the government did a hundred years ago.”

  Yeah, because it’s the cheer team who works their asses off to win each game. Give me a fucking break.

  Her eyes light up and a smile creeps across her face. “I’ll get Neville to do it for me.”

  I grunt. Neville, the smartest guy in the school, is a pathetic fool who follows Tiffany around like a lovesick puppy, no matter how shitty she treats him.

  Oliver slides into the seat beside me, a sated look in his eyes. His hair is mussed up and there’s a huge red mark on the side of his neck. He slouches in his chair, his knees falling open.

  “I see Karla finally found you,” Tiffany snarks with a giggle.

  He offers her a lazy grin. “She sure as fuck did. Cornered me in the bathroom.”

  “Eww….” She wrinkles her nose. “You fucked her in the bathroom?”

  “Nope.” He tosses a handful of Red Hots into his mouth. “But she did blow me,” he finishes with a wink.

  “Gross. That’s even worse.”

  “Whatever, Tiff. It’s not like you haven’t been on your knees in the boy’s bathroom before.”

  I know for a fact she’s been on her knees in the boy’s bathroom. The first disastrous blowjob she gave me was in the boy’s bathroom.

  She nibbles on the tip of one of her manicured nails for a moment. Her eyes slide to me before she shrugs.

  A peel of laughter has the three of us looking over at Rylee’s table. She has her hand over her mouth, her face red from whatever she found funny. Her eyes dart around the room, noticing she’s drawn attention to herself, and her face becomes an even darker shade of red. Her eyes briefly dart to mine, but just as quickly she looks away.

  “I can’t stand that bitch,” Tiffany grumbles, curling her lip up into a sneer. “She needs to go back to wherever she came from.”

  “What’d she do to you?” I ask, suddenly annoyed.

  “I just don’t like her. You’d think after the party last weekend, she’d be too scared to show her face. She actually had the nerve to show up at the fight on Saturday.”

  “She was at the fight?” Oliver asks, his brows lifting in surprise. “I didn’t see her there.”

  She lifts a hand and inspects the tips of her nails. “Probably because she had that weirdo Pierce shielding her all night.”

  Oliver grunts, but doesn’t say anything else, which surprises me. Rylee is always a sore subject for him, and he never gives up an opportunity to talk shit about her. His incensed stare is pinned on her. His jaw tics, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

  I steer my eyes back to Rylee, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the growl from rumbling from my chest when I see Charles sitting too fucking close to her. I want to break each of his fingers when he sets his hand on her shoulder to whisper something in her ear. Rylee is a beautiful, if somewhat frustrating, girl, and Charles bats for both teams. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s tried hooking up with her.

  I may enjoy the look of jealousy on Rylee’s face, but I sure as fuck don’t want to feel it myself.

  She lifts her head, and her eyes slide from me to Tiffany, then back to me. I hold her stare and lick my bottom lip, satisfied when her eyes flare with heat.

  A vision of the night on her porch comes to mind. The remembered taste of her on my tongue and the way her body felt against me. It took iron will to walk away from her that night. Then yesterday in the hallway wasn’t any easier. I wanted to yank her into the nearest room and devour her whole. When I saw her talking to Charles at her locker, I nearly lost my shit. My mind screamed at me to claim her, to make her see that she was mine. When she sprouted that shit about Oliver, it pissed me off. How the fuck could she think I would let Oliver dictate who I saw or touched?

  The kiss I gave her against the lockers was not only to satisfy my need to see if she tasted as good as I remembered—she tasted better, but to also show her I make my own decisions, and I fucking chose to kiss her.

  My dick hardens in my jeans at the thought of tasting her again. I’m just about to push Tiffany from my lap
when she starts wiggling around.

  “Oh, baby. Is that a cucumber in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?” She flashes me a wicked grin and presses herself harder against me.

  “It’s definitely not you,” I bite out. “Now get off.”

  Grabbing her waist, I hoist her none to gently from my lap. She stumbles back a step and has to catch herself on the table so she doesn’t fall.

  “What the hell, Zayden?” she complains, smoothing down her skirt. “You don’t have to be an asshole. What did you do that for?”

  “You know my lap isn’t a place for you to park your ass, Tiffany. How many times have I told you before?”

  “You seemed fine with it a minute ago.”

  “Well, I’m not fine with it now. Be lucky I didn’t dump you on the floor.”

  She rolls her eyes, flips her hair, and stomps off.

  Good riddance.

  Oliver chuckles beside me. “I don’t know why you just don’t tap her and get it over with. Maybe she’ll leave you alone afterward.”

  “Doubt it. Girls think they have some misguided claim after you put your dick in them, no matter how much you tell them otherwise. Speaking of… bet you fifty bucks by the end of the day, Karla tells everyone you’re dating.”

  “If the bitch knows what’s good for her, she won’t.”

  “Apparently, she doesn’t.” I tip my chin in the direction of Karla, who’s snickering with a couple of other girls. All three are looking at Oliver. Karla waves her fingertips at him.

  I laugh. “Good luck with that.”

  His jaw clenches as he gets up and stalks over to Karla’s table. Uninterested in his shit, I turn my eyes back to Rylee. She has her head turned away from me, but as if sensing my stare, she looks over and our eyes clash. My body instantly heats and blood rushes south. I want nothing more than to go to her and do what I just told Oliver girls are known for. Claim the fuck out of her in front of the entire school. The girl drives my libido and mind crazy, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tiffany approach Oliver and pull him away from Karla’s table. They huddle together, talking quietly. Anger spikes when Tiffany snickers and slides her eyes to Rylee.