22. Bellamy

TWENTY-TWO

bellamy

Monday morning, students crowded the halls, cramming their backpacks inside their lockers. I stopped in the middle of the hallway when I saw Drew standing at hers. She had been suspended. For a week. Yet, there she was, yanking books out of her locker before slamming the metal door. I shouldered through the group of cheerleaders trying to sell their stupid spirit ribbons. And she must have felt me coming because I was about two feet behind her when she lifted her middle finger. "Leave me alone," she said.

"So that's where the line is, huh? Not getting you fired. Not ruining your car. But dropping your passed-out boyfriend onto your porch in a bikini?"

She stopped in the middle of the hall and whipped around to face me, forcing students to go around us. "The line was about three miles back. Jackson is not my boyfriend, so just leave him out of it, Bellamy."

Not her boyfriend. Right. So, he was just a fuck buddy because she was at his house more than her own. "The guy you're fucking then."

"I just said, he's not my boyfriend!"

"I'm not your boyfriend, either, but I came on your face Friday night, didn't I?" And as shit as I felt for saying that, I wanted her anger because it told me I meant something to her.

"And made sure everyone knew about it." Students poured around us as she glared at me. "Is that what you do to your Barrington whores? Did you come on Blondie later that night, too?"

I bit back the smile, then stoked the flames. "You envision that, baby girl?" I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and she jerked away from my touch. "Me coming all over her while her nails raked down my spine?"

She went to walk off, and I grabbed her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt in the middle of the packed corridor. Her jaw clenched before she slapped her palm against my chest. "Fuck you, Bellamy. Leave Jackson alone."

And the anger in her tone—I didn't like. It was over him, and I only wanted that for me. "I'll leave Bennett alone when you leave him alone." Because I didn't trust that he wouldn't hurt her.

The air crackled with static electricity; our gazes locked for long moments before Drew finally yanked free of my hold and stormed off, shoving her way through the crowded hallway.

We ignored each other at lunch, and every time we passed in the hall. But when she fell into the chair beside me in biology, her perfume caught in the air, and I couldn't control my thoughts. Her. Me. Bennett's bed. "Let me guess. Daddy got you out of your suspension?"

She refused to look at me. "Right now, I'd love for you to get suspended."

I moved toward her, my jaw ticcing. "Figure you get rid of the devil, hell might be more tolerable?"

"Yes, because I hate you."

I glanced around the room at the girls I knew hated her just because she was Barrington—forget that she was hot. Then looked at the guys I knew would be giving her more grief than she could handle if they didn't think she was, in some fashion, mine. "I can assure you," I whispered, "the little dance with the devil you've been doing is the only thing that's kept the demons from ripping you to shreds."

Her nostrils flared, the anger of hers I knew so well sparking to life as she placed a palm on my thigh and leaned in. "You think I can't handle myself? Because the way I see it, I handle you just fine."

"Oh, you do. But only because I fucking let you."

"You let all your Barrington whores get away with so much, Bellamy?"

She had no idea what line she was toeing. On a smirk, I fisted the hair at the nape of her neck, then yanked her head down to my lap. "You wanna know what all my Barrington whores get away with?"

She fought to break free of my hold, nails tearing into my jeans as I tugged harder.

"This is what all girls like Blondie get away with."

Whispers bounced around the room. The students in front of us turned to watch.

"Is that supposed to make me feel special, Bellamy?" She relaxed in my hold, resting her cheek close to my dick.

"Whatever you wanna call it."

Then her teeth sunk into my thigh. Hard.

I bit back a groan, then placed my other hand on the back of her head. "I swear to God, when I fuck you, I'm gonna do it with no mercy, baby girl." Then I pushed her away. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face red as shit. Any minute, I expected her to throw a punch.

"Mr. West!" Mrs. Smith whacked her pointer stick on the board. "I swear to the good Lord above." She shook her head, grabbing her demerit slip pad and writing one out. "All ‘do it with no mercy, baby girl.' Lord Jesus, take the wheel," she said, placing the paper on the corner of my desk.

"That's on you!" I pointed to the pink slip. "I swear, you are the one-night stand from hell."

"No, that's on you." She shoved the detention slip across the desktop. "A one-night stand would have fucked you. I never will."

"Bullshit."

The bell sounded, and Mrs. Smith groaned, the hinges of her chair creaking when I assumed she'd stood up to go to the board. She started going over mitochondrial DNA.

Halfway through the lesson, I'd almost nodded off until the PA system beeped: "An intruder has been spotted in the building. An intruder has been spotted in the building."

Mrs. Smith tossed the marker down. "Under the desks." She hurried to the door, locking it before she rushed to the windows to pull the shades. Students clamored underneath the tables and Drew pushed out of her chair, turning to me with a look of panic. "What's happening?"

I snatched her wrist and yanked her down to the floor with me. "Just get down."

"Keep y'alls mouths closed," Mrs. Smith called from the back of the room.

My pulse ticked up, the thought that this could be real ran through my head, creating a whirlwind of anxiety with every hallway door that slammed shut.

"Why are we hiding?" Drew whispered as she settled against the leg of the desk.

"Active shooter drill."

Mrs. Smith shushed us again. The girl on the other side of Drew started crying. These things were always shit because we never knew if they were real or not.

"Oh my God." Drew pulled her knees to her chest, placing her forehead on them. She looked like she was about to completely lose it.

"It's a drill, Drew. Stop panicking." And that—that was the first time I had lied to her. I had no idea if it this was drill, but it wasn't like there was anything we could do if it wasn't.

"How do you know?" she whispered.

I shrugged a shoulder, and she tugged her legs closer to her chest. Seconds ticked by. The eerie silence in a room that was usually chaotic created a suffocating tension. Images of newsreels played through my head on a loop...the sound of gunshots, kids fleeing buildings with their hands behind their heads. That could be us.

Drew released an uneven breath, focusing on the tile in front of her. "I'm scared," she whispered.

I was, too. I swallowed, then I laid my open palm on the floor between us, and she grabbed it, dropping her head to her knees again.

My stomach kinked and knotted; Drew's hand sweated in mine. I watched the second hand on the clock tick by, waiting for shots to ring out or officers to knock on the door and give us the all-clear, while thoughts of what would happen to my mom and Arlo cycled through my head. By the time the officers finally came around and opened the door, letting us know the drill was over, the tension in the classroom was almost unbearable.

We quietly went back to our desks, pretending that drill couldn't have been our shitty reality. Smith went back to the board, pressing her thermos to her lips with shaking hands. Then she picked up where she had left off, drawing another diagram.

Drew sat beside me, lip gripped between her teeth, tears threatening to spill over. She raised her hand and asked to be excused, already halfway to the door before Mrs. Smith acknowledged her.

The girl had evidently never had one of these drills before, and if they unnerved me, I could guarantee it had put her on the verge of a breakdown.

"I gotta piss," I said on my way out of the class.

I followed the empty hallway to the girl's restroom. Drew stood at the sink, swiping at her smudged mascara, even though the tears kept coming. I had no business following her in here. No business giving a shit if she was scared for the simple fact that she wasn't mine. But yet, here I was, making myself weak for her with every passing second.

"You all right?" I asked, my voice echoing off the grimy tiled walls.

Her gaze met mine in the mirror. On a ragged sigh, she dropped her chin to her chest, the sudden movement covering her face with a curtain of hair.

"Guess you didn't have those drills at your prep school, huh?" I moved behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder as I gathered her hair to the side of her neck. She didn't move. Didn't acknowledge me. "They're shit," I said.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It scared you."

She turned to face me, wiping over her face again. "It's irrational to be crying right now. I didn't die."

"Out of all the things you've done that are irrational, I promise you, this is not one of them." I half-smiled and swept a hand over her damp cheek, terrified at how normal this felt. At how right this felt.

Her gaze held mine for a moment before she grabbed my jaw, then pressed a kiss to my lips. The kind of kiss that didn't say she wanted me, the kind that said she needed me. And damn if it didn't make my chest go tight.

I grabbed onto her waist, pulling her close, and for once, I didn't feel the need to bend her over and fuck her. I didn't want to hate her. Just protect her.

"I'm not fucking Jackson."

"And I'm not fucking anyone else."

Because I wanted her. Only her.

Her fingers trailed my cheek as she took a step back, her gaze searching mine like there was something she could figure out about me if she just stared a little bit harder. Then, without another word, she slipped out of the bathroom.

Leaving me feeling more vulnerable than I ever had in my entire life.