Page 10 of Inked Heart
His smile widened.“Wrong answer.”
The next thing I knew, someone shoved me from behind.My shoulder slammed into the locker hard enough to rattle my teeth and more laughter followed.
“Man, this kid’s like a scarecrow,” one of them said.“Bet the wind could knock him over.”
“Maybe he just needs a little help.”
Hands grabbed my backpack.My books.Someone tossed my notebook down the hallway like a football.I distinctly remember the heat crawling up my neck.The humiliation.The anger.
But mostly?The helplessness.Because there were four of them and one of me.
Eventually a coach walked in and they scattered like nothing happened, leaving me alone on the floor with my scattered books and my pride in pieces.
Laine’s voice pulls me back to the present.“You were never the same after that,” he says quietly.
I stare at the desk.“High school sucked.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
I shrug.“It’s over.”
But even as I say it, the truth sits heavy in my chest.Because seeing Emette tonight, hearing the way he talked about Quinn, dragged that old feeling right back to the surface.
Laine studies me for a moment longer before speaking again.“You know he avoids you now.”
“I noticed.”
Emette hasn’t looked me in the eye in years.Not since the first time he saw me after I came back from college.Twenty pounds of muscle heavier and definitely not the skinny kid he used to shove into lockers.
“Bullies hate it when their targets stop looking like targets,” Laine says.
“Poetic.”
“True.”He pauses before he adds quietly, “You like her.”
It’s not a question.My heart stutters once in my chest.“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I rub my face with both hands.“This is pointless.”
“Why?”He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to look inside my brain.
“Because she has a boyfriend.”
“That didn’t stop you from noticing.”There is barely constrained laughter in his voice.
I drop my hands and glare at him.“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
I shake my head.“She deserves better than him.”
Laine’s expression softens slightly.“Probably.”
“But that’s not my call to make.”
“No, it’s not,” he agrees.“But it doesn’t stop you from wanting to.”
