4. Chapter 4

4

Heath

SHE WALKS BEFORE ME, AND I FOLLOW HER—WHICH IS SOMETHING NEW. I don't follow anyone. I do what I want.

Fuck. I mutter under my breath.

She leads me to the infirmary and glances my way numerous times as if I'll ditch her. I'm pretty sure if I did, she'd hunt me down and take care of the wounds that don't even hurt.

When you're hurting all the fucking time, you get used to the pain.

She moves around the infirmary with a level of confidence and finds me a stool.

"Sit," she commands. I glare at her but obey.

She opens cabinets and retrieves supplies while mumbling words to herself. It's interesting to watch her in her element.

While she does that, I take my time to look at her.

Her dark brown hair falls on her shoulders in waves and reaches a few inches below her chest. She has light brown eyes that balance the line between honey and whiskey. A shade entirely new, that I'm sure didn't even exist before her. I run my eyes along her body, she's tall and has a skinny figure. Her face is bony with a sharp jawline and hollow cheeks. She has a button nose, full lips, and cheeks that blush in a pretty shade.

She's beautiful.

I called her pretty in front of my friends, but it was a fucking mistake. I should've said beautiful. A million times over, only then it'd come close to how I see her.

Taking a seat on the other stool, she looks at me as her hands proceed in my direction.

My first instinct is to pull away, but I let her hands hold mine and put them in her lap. Her touch is delicate. She's cautious to not hurt me.

Getting some cotton, she cleans off the blood. As her fingers work on me, I feel her warm skin.

Tiny sparks race up my arm as our skins touch. This is fucking odd.

Her eyes are concentrated on the task while mine study every contour and curve of her face.

She glances up at me. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"How did you get these?"

I want to ignore her question and let her believe the outrageous rumors about me. Sooner or later, she'd know I'm no good and she should stay miles away from me. Just a week ago I broke someone's nose.

"In a fight," I answer vaguely, hiding the actual truth that no one here knows.

"Mr. Huxley hates when there are fights in school." That's such a good girl thing for her to say. From the looks of it, she surely is one.

Our principal favors the rich kids and feeds on money. Wealthy families make donations to Bellmare High School to keep up their facade of being good, and to avoid taxes. One of those families is my parents, who also donate millions and are the reason why I haven't gotten expelled no matter how hard I try. The more I want to piss off Dad, the less the universe lets me.

However, all the fights I've been in are because those guys pushed me to the limit. They made crude comments about the people I care about, and I'm not one to take it like a fucking saint. If you come for my people I will bury you alive.

"It wasn't at school," I tell her.

She looks up at me. From this close, I stare into her brown eyes. Fuck, they're hands down the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.

"Oh, that's…" she clears her throat while avoiding my gaze.

"What?"

"Nothing." She brushes off the topic and it pisses me off.

Why I want to know her thoughts is beyond me.

"I hate when people do that," I snap.

"Do what?"

"Leave me hanging. If you start something you fucking finish it."

Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, she puts away the cotton. "‘ That's strange. How else would you end up in a fight? ' I wanted to say that." A lovely shade of pink paints her pale skin.

Fuck. That blush of hers is something else.

Taking some ointment on the tip of her finger, she applies it to my scrapes. A hiss leaves my lips as my skin burns under the antiseptic.

"I'm so sorry." She blows air that quickly carries off the flaring sensation. "Is it better now?"

I nod, too stunned to say anything. Never in my life have I ever been tongue-tied before.

What the fuck is happening to me?

"I fight at an underground boxing ring." That's it. I'm not telling her anymore about myself.

"That sounds super illegal and super dangerous."

A chuckle scratches my throat, I conceal with a cough. For fuck's sake. Now she's humoring me.

"It is."

The pretty girl wraps my hands in a gauze and ties the knot. She does it so meticulously as if she's done it before which once again piques my interest.

When she lifts her head, our faces get close. I hear the hitch in her breath.

Brown eyes. Just as pretty as her.

Clearing her throat, she applies a bit of ointment to the scratch on my head. Then stands up and puts away the things.

"What's your name?" I assess my hands to avoid looking into her eyes.

"Hope."

Wait, is it the same girl Marie was talking about?

Hope . I repeat the name a few times in my head until it's ingrained in my memory.

"Thanks," I mumble, not wanting her to hear me, but the way her lips split in a smile I know she did.

"Anytime." Hope picks up her book.

"Have you done this before?" I hate that I appear interested in her. I don't know why I want to know about her.

"No. But I spend my free time either in the library or here. Nurse Anna taught me basic stuff." The more she speaks the more I want to listen to her.

"So, this is your first time doing it?" I inch closer to her like a moth to a flame.

"Yes. Before I just watched her." She checks the time on her phone. "I should go."

I arch an eyebrow. "Aren't you gonna ask my name?"

"Everyone knows who you are," she mumbles.

Anger burns up my body as I think about how people perceive me when they know nothing but shit. "Actually, they fucking don't. My name can't exactly tell what kind of person I am."

She nods. "Do you have friends?"

"Yes." Two annoying idiots who make my life insufferable, but I wouldn't want it any other way.

"As long as they know who you really are. That's all that matters."

Her words hit me in the chest.

Sebastian and Marie know plenty about me. Enough to look at my face and understand what state of mind I'm in. They know me through and through. If it weren't for them I wouldn't be here. They tolerated me when I was going through hell. Pain that turned to poison and infected them. I've never been good with emotions. I don't know how to talk about my feelings and be vulnerable. All I know is how to hide them behind my cold words and tough act. Still, they stayed. They didn't leave my side when I needed support more than ever.

"You got friends?" I ask.

"It's just me." She shrugs carelessly as if it doesn't matter to her, but the sadness is evident on her face.

Before I can say anything more, she says, "What's your—"

The bell rings.

She shakes her head. "I have a class. Bye."

In a hurry, she exits the room, leaving me in a pool of thoughts.

"Woah. What's that?" Sebastian flops down on the seat next to me and stares at my wrapped knuckles with rapt interest.

"That's called a bandage," I reply in a dry tone.

Sending me a glare, he takes out his textbook. "I know that asshole. I'm wondering how it got there. Did Paul haul your ass to the chair and tie it himself?"

Paul is my trainer. A thirty-six-year-old man who's taught me every single thing about boxing and how to channel my anger into something useful. Much to his dismay, boxing doesn't help me with grief. If anything, I fight because I enjoy it.

"No." I direct my attention to the whiteboard wishing for Mr. Nathan, our business teacher, to enter the classroom so I can save myself from this conversation.

"Then?"

"It doesn't matter."

He frowns and stares at me with his inquisitive green eyes, more than eager to get to the depth of what I'm hiding.

Fuck it.

"Tell me," he asks again.

"I said it doesn't fucking matter."

"It does. Just tell me. Wait, are your hands okay? Don't tell me you're hiding broken bones underneath that." Scraping his chair against the floor, he gets closer and tries to take my hand.

I resist the urge to punch him in the face.

"Back off, asshole," I warn him, inching my hands away from him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Sebastian points his finger at me. "Wrong with me? You're the one not telling me stuff."

Inhaling air, I try to exhale the irritation out of me.

"Look, Bash, I'm okay," I say, with as much calm as I can summon, which is very little.

He scoots away from his chair and stares at my hands. "Something doesn't feel right."

"I'm fine," I say.

"Now something is definitely not right."

I curse at Mr. Nathan for being late. Where the fuck is he?

"You know I'm here for you. If you need anything, tell me."

Fuck . I don't want him to worry about me. He already has plenty on his plate. Also, he has a habit of taking care of others before him. He never shares what's bothering him because he doesn't want to burden anyone with his baggage. After the shit show that happened last year, Marie made him understand that it's okay to ask for help. Though, it'll take years for him to let that sink in, much like how it's taken years for him to depend on himself only.

To put his mind at ease, I come clean. " That girl did it. Now stop asking me questions."

I pull up my phone and scroll through emails as I check up on my online businesses and avoid facing him.

The phone is snatched out of my hold.

Suppressing a groan, I look at him.

Sebastian looks content now that he has my undivided attention. "Are we talking about the pretty girl? The one you bumped into?"

Fuck. I hate my life. Why did I say anything in the first place?

It was the truth. She is really pretty.

I stay silent, but Sebastian doesn't.

"It was her."

I ignore him.

"You are a dickhead."

I want to punch myself.

"Heath, I'm talking—"

This is it.

"Yes, it was her, now shut up!" I snap and a few heads turn our way.

"Jeez, no need to yell at me. I was just asking," he says nonchalantly as if he didn't short-circuit my brain.

"Don't ask." It's questioning how hot and bothered I am because of her. Sebastian and Marie will be on my ass if they know half the things rolling in my head regarding her.

"I'm still wondering how it happened."

I have no clue myself. I was on my way to the rooftop to smoke. I wanted to smother the sick feeling curling in my chest when she collided with me. Again. I had no intention of seeing her, let alone talking to her. Somehow, one thing led to another, and I had a full conversation with her, which for some strange reason I didn't mind.

"She walked into me and—"

"Again?" He smirks. I glare at him. "Fine, continue. I won't say shit."

"She saw my knuckles and offered to help to pay me back. I only agreed because I wanted her to leave me alone. At the infirmary she did this, we talked a bit, and then she left."

"What did you talk about?"

"Stuff. Now that I've told you, stop pestering me."

"You left out a great deal. But it's fine. At least you're finally going to get some pussy."

"It's not like that." I grind my teeth.

He smiles. "Isn't it? You called her pretty, let her take care of your hands, and also talked to her—you never talk to anyone. So I believe there is something there."

"It was an accident. I didn't chase her or anything."

He leans back in his chair. "You remember what Marie said? Maybe it wasn't an accident."

"It was. I'm not getting any fucking pussy, because I'm not interested."

He sighs heavily. "God help your virgin dick."

Taking my pen, I throw it right at his face and he shrieks like a girl. "Dammit, you asshole."

"Stop mocking my virginity," I say.

"I'm your best friend. I'm supposed to help you." He puts my pen into his bag.

Letting out a quiet groan, I flex my knuckles to relieve the tension. "If I wanted to fuck, I would. I don't need your fucking help."

"You do know that a little practice won't hurt."

My lips curl up in a smirk. "Only my dick is virgin, not my mind . I know how sex works."

"You're right." Scrolling on my phone screen he adds, "Your browser history is quite un-virgin."

Moving over, I yank my phone out of his hand and slip it into my bag. "You need to fuck—"

The class starts before I can throw a train of curses at Sebastian.

When I look at him, he chuckles. I give him the middle finger.