Page 14 of The Monster I Am
“Yep. Just like your ball sack. I’m nothing if not consistent when it comes to my reputation. By the way—I need your hair removal routine. It’s damn flawless, Astor.”
Chapter four
Bexley
“I thought you were meant to beresting.”
Pausing, I turn around in the hallway, finding Arch leaning against a locker with a judgy cocked eyebrow.
“I did rest. I slept a full four and a half hours last night.”
His eyes drop down to the extra-large coffee in my hand, eyebrow somehow darting up even higher. “Bexley...”
“Archer.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. There’s nothing caffeine can’t fix.”
Okay. Maybe the doctordidsay I should spend a few days at home before returning. But the doctor doesn’t know that Dean Lannister is lurking around these hallways, clutching attendance numbers, and threatening my graduation. That asshole wouldn’t miss the chance to rub salt into the wound, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone take advantage of this very minor, not-at-all traumatic setback. Especially since the call is coming from inside his own fucking academy.
It’s already bad enough that it’s all but formally confirmed we’ll be at Willowbrook until graduation, never to roam our Cedar Heights halls again. I have no desire to make things worse or let the twat rockets who did this get away.
Arch has been on lookout duty for me, but from what I’ve heard, everyone seems pretty spooked. Still, I wasn’t born yesterday. Someone here knows something. People talk. It’s only a matter ofwhenbefore someone slips up. And I need to be here if I want to catch them.
“If you get an infection…”
“I have my silver ointment in my bag to keep the werewolves at bay,” I tell him, patting the backpack for good measure. “And spare bandages. Arch, I’m fine, really. Besides, I need some normalcy right now. Like,reallyneed it. And if all that fails, I have floaty drugs on hand too.”
Finally, he seems to accept that, nodding.
I feel like I can breathe a sigh of relief at his acquiescence. Truthfully, part of me would love to stop for a moment and hide from the world. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt tension in my bones, burying deep into every inch of my soul. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to not have that weight riding on my shoulders. To just breathe without worry, to exist without fear of consequence.
I would love to know what it feels like to simply just be me without the stress that the world might fall apart if I suddenly stop holding it up for everyone.
But I don’t think that version of Bexley Spencer exists. Maybe only in my dreams.
The bell ringing drags me away from my thoughts and I wave Arch off, watching as he disappears into a nearby classroom before I make my way to Mr. Hardwood’s torturous History session.
As usual, Tai is waiting for me, a shit-eating grin splashed across his face as he pats the vacant seat next to him.
“Look what thewildcatdragged in,” he says playfully as I slide into my usual spot.
“Tai, it’s Monday morning. The sun is barely even up. How are you already thinking about pussy?”
“I think about yours a lot. Specifically, you riding my face again.”
Groaning to hide the fact that my thighs have clenched together on their own accord—which I’m blaming on the painkillers again—I take a sip of coffee, attempting to appear unfazed. “Good to see your hair is still green. It looks like a leprechaun shit all over your head.”
“Ouch.” He grabs his chest. “Wounded, Bex. I ruined the perfect shade of silver for you. Show a little respect for the hair.”
I can’t stop my lips from twitching, a smile fighting its way through the weary exhaustion. “Okay, maybe I’ll ride your face later. If you’re lucky.”
Tai grins excitedly, some witty remark on the tip of his tongue begging to break free. It’s cut off by Mr. Hardwood and his toupee, his drawling, monotonous voice telling everyone to be quiet before he dives into his usual rambling.
After History, Tai and I part ways before meeting up again for third period with Rylan and Lannister. For someone who just escaped death with me, you’d never know it.
There’s still a fierce hostility in his glances toward me, and part of me starts to question if I hallucinated our moments together in the stage room. Perhaps I blacked out earlier than I thought and none of it was real. That’s the only reasonable explanation since he still looks as though I’m nothing but an inconvenience dampening his Monday agenda.
