Page 5 of Wicked Savage Cruel
Good thing I don't care.
We reach the door to first period. The bell’s already rung, and the door is closed. I make a big show of swinging it open, letting it slam against the wall so all heads turn in our direction. “After you, vanilla.” I wave her in with a flourish.
She scowls and then freezes when she realizes we’ve grabbed the entire classes' attention.
I smirk. “You going to keep everyone waiting?”
Her cheeks turn an impressive shade of pink as she steps forward. I don’t get out of her way, forcing her to brush against me as she passes. The room is quiet, all eyes on us.
She tries to slip into the first available seat. It’s in the back row and closest to the door but the girl sitting beside it shakes her head. “You don’t want to sit there,” she says in a loud whisper.
“Why?”
I snort and the girl flicks her gaze toward me. “It’s his seat.”
Allie turns to look over her shoulder, giving me another frown.
I offer her a bored expression, wondering if she’ll fight back on the seat or do the smart thing and move along. I’m almost disappointed when she huffs and walks toward the front of the class. She has to go around the entire room to reach the last remaining open seat clear on the other side, three rows from the front. By the time she sits, the class still dead silent, her cheeks are a brilliant scarlet. Like a rose. Can't wait to see her thorns.
“Alright class,” our teacher begins. She makes Allie introduce herself, doing the whole bit of having her stand up. Asking her where she moved from, does she have any siblings? All the boring basic stuff.
I discover she moved from Richland. No siblings. No pets. She lives with her dad.Interesting.I never knew Gerald Ulrich had a daughter. I wonder where he’s been hiding her all these years?
When she finally completes her interrogation, Mrs. Beck leaves her alone the rest of the period. I have the advantage of being able to watch her without her being able to watch me in return. She takes notes and actually pays attention. She’s a goody-goody for sure which will make it all the more fun when I ruin her. This is just what I needed. Senior year was looking boring but now things are about to get interesting. I can hardly wait.
I get lost in my fantasies; my gaze glued to the back of her head as I imagine all the ways I want to hurt her. Fuck her. Ruin her. It’s a sport, and one I just so happen to excel at. If she plays her part well, I might soothe some of the hurt I inflict. We’ll see.
When the bell rings, I wait for her just outside the door. Her eyes are downcast as she stares at a piece of paper in her hands, not seeing me until she ends up crushing the paper between our bodies. Contact.That's what I'm talking about.
“Watch it, vanilla.” I snatch the paper from her fingertips, scanning my eyes over her class schedule. I could have just asked what her next class was, but where’s the fun in that?
“Hey!” She tries to grab for it but I lift my hand high above her head, tilting my gaze up to scan over the text. There’s no way she can take it back unless I want her to. Or unless she decides to climb me like a tree. I would be okay with that.
She’s five-two. Maybe five-three. Tiny in comparison to all six feet of me towering over her. Her hands clench into tiny fists at her sides. Her lips press together in a firm line. My dick twitches in the face of her anger but beyond that initial outburst, she stays silent.
Hmmm… I wonder what it would take for her to really get angry. To break out of this little mold of manners and contained ire?
English, Calculus, Spanish 4 … hmmm. I eye her. Spanish 4 is for native speakers. I was right in my assumptions about her. “Mexican or Puerto Rican?” I ask, giving her another once-over. I’m betting Mexican but I’ve been wrong once or twice in my life.
“Mexican.”
Right again.
I tuck her schedule into my back pocket and move down the hallway.
“Hey, I need that.” She rushes to keep pace with me, her shorter legs having to work double time just to keep up. Students eye her with open interest and I decide to make things interesting.
Without missing a step, I toss an arm over her shoulder and pull her close to my body as I lead her through the halls. She stiffens. “Chill. I’m walking you to class. Just helping out the new girl.”
Her mouth tightens but she nods, and I decide not to be a complete ass and slow my steps just a little. Not really for her benefit, but because I want to delay this little stroll and make sure as many students see the two of together as possible.
The guys in the hall eye her with a mix of fascination and confusion. The girls though, they’re looking at her with open disdain. Perfect.
I spot one of my best friends—Emilio—further up the hallway waiting for me outside our next class. He lifts a single brow in question. The corner of my mouth lifts and I give him a knowing look. He doesn’t bother to hide his annoyance. Emilio isn’t one for games. He’s one of thoseyou’ll get more bees with honeytypes, but he won’t interfere. It’s not his style to go against me.
I stop when we reach Allie’s next class and once again I make a show of opening the door for her, only this time I shove her inside. “Yo, Silvia?” I holler.
Silvia Parish whips her head toward me. Her light brown eyes widen in surprise and the beginning of a smile curls her lips — until she spots Allie.
