Page 30 of Fueled Hate

Maybe things will feel less out of sorts at school soon without Kyle around. At least, that’s what I’m hoping as I crank up the music and head back to Sunland.

18

Sadie

Normalcy. Is that too much to ask? Apparently so because no other Monday morning has ever started out with finding a moron leaning against my car. It’s a toss-up which moron I want to see less, but right now, this one is in the top spot.

“Get off my car.”

Dylan remains propped against the Mustang, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. Relaxed. Way too relaxed.

Glancing over the driver’s side, I quickly take a sweep of the passenger side before asking what first popped into my head when I saw the big dummy leaning against my car. “How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways of finding out about things that interest me.”

Halting in front of him, I slowly raise my eyes to meet his. “Does that load of bull and creepy lurker persona actually work where you’re from?”

He doesn’t respond, playing up the creepy part, I’m guessing. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I close my eyes. “It’s Monday. I have class—just tell me if you did something to my car again. Should I be preparing to change another flat tire this morning?”

“Nah. It’s not as fun watching unless you’re wearing a dress.”

I’ve not had enough sleep or coffee to deal with this jackass. “Go. Away.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” His slick, appealing tone is lost on me. I can’t see past the lunacy, as usual.

“Yes. Very sure. Now move.”

Pushing off the car, he says, “Ride with me.”

“Hard pass.” Pulling the door open, I drop into the driver’s seat and slam the door closed. I attempt to start the car but have no luck. Looking up, I spot Dylan watching me, leaning against his car as my phone chimes with a message. Reaching into my pocket, I keep my eyes on the pest until I look down to read the message that ensures he’s only going to keep the torment going.

Unknown: Need a ride?

Motherfucker. I’m going to strangle him. What did he do to my car now? How did he get my number? How deep does his crazy run? Because so far, he’s off-kilter on a good day. And today isn’t looking like a very good day.

Throwing the door open, I pull the hood release. Trudging to the front of the car, I pull the release latch, pushing the hood open.

“Psycho and unoriginal,” I mumble as I reconnect the battery cable. Even if my car never starts up again, I’m not getting in his car with him. After the cable is attached, I glance around to see everything else looks fine. Slamming the hood shut, I sit in the driver’s seat and turn the key. Thankfully, it cranks right up.

Pressing my hand against the window, I flip him the bird as he laughs. Jerk. He knew exactly what he was doing. Did he really think I’d fall for it?

My tire. He really had messed with my tire. If he’d do this to the battery, he’d definitely mess with the tires. I look over to him, an ominous feeling sailing through me. Had he done it the first time? I hadn’t even met him at that point.

Unknown: See you in class.

Ugh. There’s no way this is gonna go well. I doubt Kyle switched out of government because I asked him to.

Hurrying into the closest spot I can find near campus, I lock the car (not that it helps to keep a certain jackass from messing with it) and jog to class, arriving just about the time it’s going to start.

Glancing around, I spot Willow in her usual seat and head her way.

“Sadie,” Kyle calls from a few rows behind Willow.

Yeah. Jackass Number Two still hasn’t gotten the message either.

Just as I’m about to step into the row with Willow, a tight grip on my wrist pulls me in the opposite side. My bag falls to the ground and I lose my footing, stumbling as I’m pulled down into a chair. Only it’s not empty. Dylan smirks as he holds me in place on his lap. In the middle of the freakin’ classroom where most eyes are on us. Perfect.

“I guess you’re ready for that ride now,” he says, the innuendo unmistakable.