Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Harper

Easton is forgiven.

I know that apology wasn't easy for him-he’s not the type to ever say

I'm sorry-and neither was accepting the fact that he needs to

communicate. But I'm pretty sure I got my point across and that was

my hope.

My other hope is that he doesn't kill Blake and I'm doing everything I

can to make sure he doesn't

Except the moment I come out of my fourth period class, I fail.

Blake is standing directly outside the door, waiting for me to join him. I

can tell he wants to chat, that shouldn't be that big of a deal. We are

friends — aren't we? Or we were before the chaos erupted. Maybe we

can be friends again once things cool down and the

guys realize it wasn't Blake who spray painted our garage.

But, at this very moment, Blake is fire.

And the best thing I can do is stay far, far away from him.

Except he's making that impossible, moving beside me the moment I

step into the hallway. I dart to the right, trying to avoid him, and he

slides in the same direction. A simple shift to the left and it happens

again.

“I'm a much better dancer when there's music playing,” he jokes.

I smile, I can't help it. He's goofy, but sweet at the same time. “Hey,

Blake.” I take a deep breath, thinking of what to say. “I have to run, I

have to talk to my teacher about an assignment before class.”

“I'm headed in the same direction, I'll walk you there.” He gently

touches my shoulder, leaving his fingers there as we take our first steps.

“I've been wanting to talk to you about your house and the spray paint.

That's why I came over that morning the second I heard the news, I

wanted to make sure you were okay, but Ryan said you were at

Easton's.”

I recount the moment he's talking about, knowing very well I was home,

and Easton was with me, and Ryan shooed Blake away so Easton didn't

kill him.

“There's so many rumors going around school about it,” he continues.

“I want you to know I'm sorry. I hate that this is happening to you, you

don't deserve it."

There's sincerity in his voice, his eyes so soft and sympathetic.

I don't understand why the guys think he’s the guilty one. Because he

had some silly, so called evidence in his trunk that could have been

used for anything?

The memory of Whore still stings as I reply. “It sucks, Blake. Someone is

trying to hurt me, and I don't understand why ... but it's working.”

“You can't let it.” He squeezes my shoulder, making me realize his hand

is still there. “You're stronger than that.”

Iglance in his direction after weaving around a few students. “Thank

you.”

He analyzes my face. “You look tired today, is Easton being a dick, and

keeping you from getting a good night's sleep?” He leans in and

whispers, “I saw you guys fighting this morning.”

Even though Easton took us into the doorway of the classroom, trying

to prevent us from having onlookers, I was worried we still did. I'm sure

Aisha was somewhere in that crowd too. Wherever Easton is, she never

seems to be too far away

“Everything's fine,” I assure him

“I just hope he has good intentions, you know? I don't want him to

treat you like he treats everyone else. You're better than all those other

girls he's been with, you're like a princess, not someone who should be

lied to.”

Lied to?

An awful feeling thumps in my stomach.

“Do you know something I don't, Blake?”

He runs his hand through his hair. “Man, I don't know ..." He glances

down, like looking at me is almost too much. “I just see him talking to

Aisha all the time.”

“All the time?”

He nods. “Is that something you're okay with? I mean, I know if roles

were reversed, I wouldn't want my girl talking to her ex all day.”

All day?

My heart suddenly aches from this news, my stomach churning. What if

Blake is right, what if Easton does talk to Aisha all day and that's how

she knew I was a virgin?

“Need proof?” Blake asks and he points toward the left. “There's some

for you right there.”

I follow his finger, my stare moving across the hallway until it meets

Easton. He's standing outside his locker, Aisha directly next to him, the

two in deep conversation

Everything in my body starts hurting, tears threatening to rise into my

eyes.

He knows how much I hate her, how she’s to blame for everything

that's happened to me.

And he’s still talking to her?

All day?

At his damn locker, nonetheless.

“I told you,” Blake says in my ear. “If you were my girl, I wouldn't need

to talk to anyone else. You would be more than enough.”

I slowly glance at Blake, his eyes backing up everything he's saying, and

then my gaze returns to Easton. He shuts his locker and turns around,

our stares connecting.

His jaws clench when he sees I'm with Blake.

His hands turn into fists.

I know what he's thinking, what he wants to do, and it's not going to

happen.

“Don't you dare,” I mouth to him, making sure he understands what I

mean.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aisha, and the smug look on her face.

Ugh, I can’t fucking stand her.

And I can't stand that she’s enjoying every second of this.

As the seconds pass, Blake still not leaving my side, Easton's expression

tells me he’s on the verge of murder.

I need to stop him before he does something stupid.

“Blake, I have to go,” I say, and I rush over to Easton, ignoring Aisha's

presence. “Ready to head to class?” I ask my boyfriend, linking our

fingers together.

“Harper ... what the fuck.”

I can say the same to him about Aisha, but it isn’t the right moment for

that. Not when his eyes aren't even on me, they're on Blake, glaring at

his prey like he's about to hunt at any second.

I need Easton's attention.

I dig my nails into his hand. “Class — now!"

“That guy has some fucking balls,” he roars.

Aisha moves closer, her face inches from mine, where she whispers in

my ear, “Don’t you love it when Easton gets all animalistic.” She licks

her lips. “You should see him act that way when he’s naked. Mmm-

mmm."

My skin feels like it's been scorched.

I can't take another second of this.

“You're such a bitch,” I spit at her, and then I pull Easton's fingers,

dragging him in the opposite direction. “Why the hell were you talking

to her?” I ask when we're far enough away. I can't hold back the anger,

everything about today is eating at me.

He stops walking and I can tell he feels the same way, his mouth tense,

his tone growly when he says, “Why don't you tell me what the fuck you

were doing with Blake.”