6

“Desperate,” I added, feeling a strange dip in my stomach. Ignoring it, I pushed my plate away, slid on my glasses, and pulled out my sketch pad and pencils.

“What’re you working on?” Flick leaned over to get a better look. “Wow, that’s good, Hails, really good.”

Pride swelled in my chest. I didn’t draw for other people, but it never hurt hearing someone appreciated your art. The piece, a sketch of kids filing into school I’d titled ‘first day rush’, had taken me hours but it still wasn’t quite finished. I liked to carry a project around with me for moments like this.

Moments where I needed to escape all the bullshit that came with being Jason Ford’s step-sister.

“Hmm, Hails.” Flick’s voice ruined my concentration and I glared at her.

“What?”

“Is that any way to greet your... friend?

I glanced over my shoulder to find Asher Bennet standing behind me, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“What do you want?” Pencil poised between my fingers, spine rigid, I readied myself for whatever bullshit he was about to throw my way.

The tables surrounding us had grown quiet. Everyone knew Jason and I were step-siblings. Everyone also knew there was no love lost between us. He didn’t usually come after me during school, preferring to keep our games out of the public eye, so whenever he or one of his friends approached me, it usually warranted everyone’s attention.

“I just wanted to return this.” He plucked something from behind his back, dropping it on the table in front of me.

My eyes widened and then narrowed at him with contempt. “Where the hell did you get this?” Heat flamed my cheeks as I covered the familiar black lacy bra with my hands, slowly dragging it toward me. It was a stupid question, one I already knew the answer to, but he’d caught me off-guard.

“You left it at my house.” Asher stroked his jaw, raising his voice a few decibels to make sure everyone in the immediate vicinity heard him. “When we... you know...” His brows quirked up, a wicked smirk plastered on his face.

The table across from us all snickered, a low rumble of whispers starting to build around me. Son of a bitch. I balled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. There was no way to spin this to my advantage and from the arrogant glint in his eye, he knew it.

I knew if I looked over at the football table, Jason would be watching his plan unfold just the way he’d hoped. I was foolish to let my guard down. But after three days of radio silence, a tiny part of me had hoped he’d finally called a truce. Stupid girl. There would never be a truce between us, and I’d stopped wondering a long time ago why he hated me so much.

But I refused to just roll over and take his shit.

I couldn’t.

Keeping my glare on Asher, and not the football table, I stood up, and before I could stop myself, I slapped him. The crack of my palm against his cheek pierced the air and his eyes darkened. “What the—”

“You promised,” I cried with Oscar-worthy gusto. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone. I thought… I thought I meant something to you. I thought you loved me.”

He jerked back. “L- loved you?” Asher laughed but it came out all strangled and wrong. “I never said—”

“Sure, you did.” I inched closer to him, lowering my eyes and gazing at him with what I hoped were convincing puppy-dog eyes. “Right after we… did it, you said you loved me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jason moving toward us, anger burning in his blue eyes. Knowing I had his attention, I continued. “I know you’re worried about what Jason will say, Ash, but it’s okay.” My hands slid up his chest and his expression fell. “We can be together. Jason won’t… Oh, hi, Jason.” I finally looked at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he seethed, derision rolling off him.

Stepping back, I moved closer to Jason, cutting us off from prying eyes since we had the attention of the entire cafeteria now. “You think you’re so fucking slick,” I said through gritted teeth, still smiling. “You’ll have to try a damn sight harder than that to embarrass me.”

The second I said the words, I saw his eyes light up. Crap. I usually didn't bite, but he got under my skin so much. Too late now though, I’d openly challenged him. And Jason never backed down from a challenge.

One of the few things we had in common.

“Jase.” The sound of Cameron’s gruff voice startled me. I hadn’t even realized he had approached us. My eyes lifted to where he stood to the side of Asher. “Come on, she isn’t even worth it,” he said coolly, not even flinching as the words left his lips, his eyes refusing to meet mine.

But I did flinch.

Even now, after all these years, it was hard to forget Cameron wasn’t a good guy. He was a jerk, just like my step-brother and Asher and the rest of the football team. But until this week, he’d never been so obvious about his dislike for me. Not that it really mattered because the feeling was entirely mutual.

Flick had it wrong.

So wrong.

Cameron didn’t want me, he wanted to ruin me. And aside from being my step-brother’s little bitch, I had no idea why.

“You should listen to him, Jase,” I mocked. “Wouldn’t want people to think you were—”

“Okay, Hails.” Flick’s arms came around my waist and she started yanking me away. “I think your work here is done.”

The three of them stared after me, a mix of confusion, contempt, and challenge glittering in their eyes. Most girls would have been afraid. Most girls would have run off to the bathrooms and cried over the possibility of the most popular guys in school coming after them.

But I wasn’t most girls.

“What the hell was that?” Flick hissed the second we spilled out of the cafeteria. She shoved my messenger bag at me.

“What? I wasn’t going to stand by and let Asher do that.”

“But calling Jase out like that?”

With a small shrug I took off toward the art studio. I had a free period next and Mr. Jalin was more than happy for me to use one of the rooms, as long as I cleaned up after myself. And I needed to paint away my frustrations.

Flick caught up to me. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

I ground to a halt and met her apologetic gaze. “I know. I just… ugh! He’s so infuriating. Do you think I want to spend senior year going back and forth with him? Trust me, I don’t. But I can’t do nothing either.”

I’d tried that before and it didn’t work. In ninth grade I’d decided to ignore them. If I didn’t react, they’d get bored, right?

Wrong.

The final straw had been when Jason paid Macaulay Denver to ask me out to the spring dance. He was so sweet and insistent, and we shared a common aversion to the football team. It had been impossible to say no to him, but I should have known it was all a ruse. I should have known my twisted step-brother had something to do with it. But I was fourteen and I wanted one night of teenage normalcy.

Macauley’s mom had driven us to school and like a true gentleman, he’d opened the door for me and held my hand as we walked into the gymnasium. After finding us a table, Macauley had made sure I was comfortable before going to get us a drink. I’d watched the other kids dancing, laughing, and smiling, and for those few precious minutes, I’d felt like one of them. Until ten minutes later when I saw Macaulay making out with his real date, Sarah McKrinsky. Jason had taken great pleasure in telling me the truth, smirking down at me with Cameron and Asher flanking his side like evil lieutenants. I could have run out of there with tears in my eyes and my heart in tatters, but I didn’t. Because Jason underestimated me. He failed to realize that every time he toyed with me, every time he tried to beat me down, it only made me stronger. And my walls were so impenetrable now, I wasn’t sure there was anything more he could do to hurt me.

Much to my step-brother’s annoyance, I’d stayed at the dance that night. Flick and her date were more than happy to let me play third wheel and we’d danced and laughed until the music died and the lights came up. Macaulay had even apologized; saying he felt bullied into going along with it. After all, you didn’t tell Jason Ford no. Even then, at the tender age of fourteen, people treated him differently because of his talent on the field. Because of his father’s legacy. Ninth-graders rarely had college scouts come out to see them, let alone ask for a verbal commitment to their school, but Jason did. I soon realized it was only going to get worse as he got older. Ignoring him wasn’t going to work, so I had no choice but to step up and play his games.

It was hardly any surprise when I never got asked out again.

“I know, I know.” Flick sighed. “I just worry about you. I know he’s never taken it too far, but something feels different this year.”

She wasn’t wrong. I felt it too. The change. The shift in the air.

But what choice did I have?

This was my school, my life, and I’d be damned if Jason Ford stole that from me too.