Wicked Devil: Chapter 4

The looks I’m getting aren’t friendly. I’m pretty sure that girl—Silvia—wants to murder me. I didn’t miss the way she looked at Roman when he called for her. She all but preened under his attention. Until she saw me. She wants him. I can’t really blame her. Before dating my ex—Ryker—I might have wanted him, too. The bad-boy type every girl thinks she can tame. But I learned my lesson going down that road once before and my heart’s been through enough as it is.

I’m not some masochist, so she doesn’t have anything to worry about from me.

He asked her to take care of me—his girl. Does he have any idea how much those two little words have royally screwed me? It’s easy to tell Silvia is the one, if not the one and only, Queen B here at Sun Valley High. She’s polished within an inch of her life and has a resting bitch face strong enough to peel paint. Following her lead, by the end of the day, every girl in this school is going to hate me.

Thankfully I don’t have to sit by her and Calculus passes uneventfully with little more than hushed whispers and sneers aimed in my direction, but what can I do?

Nothing. That’s what.

Sun Valley High is everything I expected it to be. Your typical public school. But I failed to take into account just how much of a stir I would cause as the new girl. It didn’t help that I’d started school halfway through the first trimester. If I’d started on the very first day of school like everyone else, I might have had a chance of going by unnoticed. Maybe. Probably. Unless I’d run into Roman day one then, too.

I tug at the hem of my shirt, fighting off a wave of self-consciousness. No one here is dressed like me. Janessa made me believe they would be, going on and on about what popular things kids here liked, but she was way off base.

Most of the students are wearing ripped jeans, hoodies, and casual shirts. There’s a small cluster of kids dressed to the nines—like Silvia—and I have a feeling they’re the Sun Valley elite. The preppy jocks and spoiled rich kids. But their version of preppy is Rock Revival jeans and Free People tops.

Still over the top if you ask me but my shoes cost more than most of their outfits and it doesn’t go by unnoticed. I get a lot of whispered “stuck up, bitch” comments directed my way, and by lunch I’ve picked up a new nickname, “Daddy’s little princess.”

I hate that one even more than when Roman calls me “vanilla.”

He’s waiting for me outside of class for lunch, taking me by surprise. I don’t delude myself into thinking we’ll become friends. Guys like him aren’t friends with girls. I know the type. All I am is his punishment and it’s evident he isn’t happy about it, even if he is toying with me. Ryker used to do crap like this, too.

I follow Roman into the cafeteria and we each grab our lunches before heading to a table in the far-right corner. Two other boys are already seated at it. One is a tall black guy wearing charcoal gray sweatpants, a plain white t-shirt, and rocking a pair of Beast Mode sneakers.

Huh, a Marshawn Lynch fan. I can get behind that.

Well, Marshawn Lynch when he went to the Raiders. I was never one for the Seahawks.

He has full lips, and dark brown, wide-set eyes. His hair is braided tight against his head and he has two slashes through his left brow that I’m pretty sure were shaved into twin lines as opposed to being remnants of a scar. It gives him a more severe look and enhances his already good looks.

I take in the other guy beside him. He’s shorter than the first but still around six feet tall. He’s Hispanic like Roman and me but his eyes lift at the edges a bit more and his cheekbones are a little sharper. Not Mexican, I don’t think. Maybe Honduran. He’s the thinnest of the three but his arms are still wrapped in corded muscle. He just hasn’t filled out as much.

He wears a white tank top, low slung jeans that expose the top two inches of his black boxers, and a silver chain around his neck.

He’s gorgeous. All three of them are. And one look around the cafeteria shows me that these three are the cream of the crop. All of the girls stare at them with lust and hunger on their faces.

Can they be any more obvious?

The other Hispanic guy glances at me as I follow behind Roman, a question in his stare, but Roman doesn’t seem inclined to answer.

“Por qué está ella aquí?” Why is she here? he asks when we finally reach the table.

Roman grunts, not offering a response. Wonderful.

I debate leaving. I can go to the library, have lunch there. Despite Roman dragging me over, the other two guys don’t seem inclined to be all that welcoming, but I decide to introduce myself anyway.

“Me llamo, Alejandra. Allie.” I decide to say in Spanish. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I don’t want him thinking he could use Spanish to talk about me without me realizing what he’s saying, either.

He smirks and a surprised laugh escapes him. “Ooo, I love it when a girl speaks Spanish to me.” I roll my eyes ignoring his attempt at flirting. He waggles his brows and asks. “What’s your story, vanilla?”

Him too? I try not to glower. “It’s Allie. Not vanilla,” I say, working to keep the bite out of my tone. Neither of these guys did anything wrong to me and I don’t want to alienate myself further. But I’m really not on board with the nicknames.

“Whatever you say, vanilla.” Urgh. I just might strangle him. “I’m Emilio.” He points to himself. “That silent fucker is Dom.” He indicates the black guy beside him. Dom nods but doesn’t seem all that interested in introductions. “There a reason you kicking it at our table? No offense, but we don’t like to mix with the fairer sex these days.”

Oh. Oh. “I’m just … I mean … No judgments here.” I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “Really. If you’re into other guys or each other—”

“We’re not gay.” Dom deadpans.

My cheeks heat. They’re not? “Umm…”

I have no idea what to say.

Dom sighs and shifts to face me. “What Emilio meant to say— “ he pauses and smacks him upside the head.

“Hey!”

Dom scowls at Emilio and continues, “…is that it’s our senior year. We don’t have time for chicks. We’re focused on football. Only football. So, if you’re trying to get with Ro— ”

“I’m not. Oh, my god, I’m really not.” My cheeks are flaming by this point but I don’t want anyone here getting the wrong idea. “I’m his punishment. That is literally the only reason I’m here right now. Something about him having to show me around this week to avoid detention.”

Emilio whistles. “No shit?” He eyes me up and down like I’m a piece of meat before turning to Roman with a wide grin on his face. “How’d you manage to get a hot piece of ass as punishment?” He says it like a joke but there’s a certain level of concern in the question.

“It’s not a big deal. Just Mrs. Jennings being Mrs. Jennings.”

Both guys groan. I ignore what’s said next and decide to check my cell.

I pull out my phone. It was buzzing on and off during first and second period but I didn’t want to risk looking at it and having it confiscated. I don’t know how strict the teachers are here.

I scroll through my text messages. I have three from my ex, Ryker.

Gross. The last includes a photograph. A dick pic. Wonderful. What an asshole. He broke up with me. The day my mom died. Who does that? And he cheated on me. With my only female friend. And none of these texts are an apology for that. Not that I’d forgive him even if they were. Instead he treats me like some booty call as if I asked for a stupid picture of his pencil dick.

I delete his messages, not bothering to respond and move on to the other two waiting for me.

Delete.

I sigh. At least he doesn’t sugarcoat it.

He responds almost instantly.

Julio’s been my best friend since grade school. Ever since Mimi Johnson stole my ice cream cone in the park and called me stupid. He told her she was fugly and that my stolen ice cream would make her fat. We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.

J knows me inside and out and I know he’s always got my back. Only now he’s got it from two hours away. I hate the distance between us, but I just need to make it through this year.

With a smile still on my face, I shove my phone back in my pocket. When I look up, Roman is staring at me. He doesn’t say anything so neither do I. The other guys seem to consider me and then Emilio asks, “Hot boyfriend?”

I snort “No. Just some people from my old school.” I tell him. There’s no reason to lie.

He lifts a brow as if to say, elaborate.

When I don’t, he says, “You get dick pics from people often?”

Oh, my god. He saw that?

“What? No.” I hide my face behind my hands and all three chuckle. “It’s not what you think. God. No.” I shake my head and they laugh harder.

“Damn, vanilla. No judgment here. You can have all the dick pics you want. Tell you what, I can go in the bathroom right now and take one for you. Give me your digits and we’ll make shit happen.”

Mortification rolls through me. “It’s not…” I shake my head in a definite no before exhaling an exasperated sigh. “My ex is trying to get me back. Sort of.” I frown. “I’m pretty sure what he really wants is a booty call but that’s not happening. So, no, I don’t get dick pics often. He’s just a moron and hasn’t realized it’s over. And no, I don’t want pictures of your dick, either. Thanks.”

“Holy shit, vanilla. Your life is the prequel to a telenovela. What else you got?”

I snort. “Nothing. My life is not exciting.” A little tragic, maybe, but no one else needs to know those parts.

The guys talk football the rest of lunch. All three are on the varsity team which isn’t surprising. There’s a game on Friday but they don’t seem concerned about it. The game two weeks from now has most of their attention. It’s Sun Valley High’s rival game against the Suncrest Academy Saints. Based on their expressions, it’s a really big deal.

I try and track their conversation. Julio and I use to watch football together. Ryker plays for my old school but I never really went to his games. I’d just watch NFL with Julio and sometimes the high school recaps if the game was big enough that the news decided to cover it.

Adriana was always there, though. She was on the cheer squad. Maybe that was one of the reasons he never asked me to come?

As the guys talk, I learn that Dom is the school’s quarterback. Roman plays wide receiver. And Emilio is a cornerback. All three seem to live and breathe football. Emilio makes a point of including me in their conversation, which is a little surprising since he didn’t seem thrilled that I was here in the first place.

He peppers me with questions but I don’t have much to contribute. I understand the game. I know how plays work and I thankfully don’t get lost when Dom goes off on a tangent about a blitz the Saints made that worked out for them in last week’s game against another school. The guys are intense and it’s clear they do their homework on their opponents. I surprise them a few times when it becomes clear I know what they’re talking about and I start to find my footing a bit.

These guys aren’t that different from my crew back home. Roman is a lot like Julio. The leader of the pack, though more brooding and definitely more of a player. Emilio has a carefree attitude like Felix. He’s quick with the jokes and always wears a comfortable smile. And Dom is the strong silent type like Gabe.

I start to feel like maybe today doesn’t completely suck but I don’t delude myself into thinking that once Roman’s little punishment ends that any of these guys will want to still talk to me. Emilio already made it clear they don’t mix with the girls of this school. They can’t afford any distractions. Aside from that, it’s evident we come from different social circles. They’re the guys all the girls want and the guys all the other guys want to be. You can see it in the way everyone watches them. And me, I’m the girl who just wants to survive her senior year.

When the bell rings, Roman dumps his tray and presumably heads toward Spanish, not bothering to wait for me. I consider calling out for him but immediately decide against it. He seemed to grow more and more agitated as lunch progressed. I haven’t done anything to him so I don’t know why he has such a stick up his butt.

No one talks to me as I wander the halls trying to find my Spanish class. Roman still has my schedule and I don’t really know where I’m going. I try and ask a few students but all I get are sneers and eye rolls. No words. No help.

Yes, I’m the new girl.

Yes, I sat at lunch with the cute guys who I’ve now learned are also the school’s jocks.

And no. I didn’t want to cause any waves in the stupid high school social hierarchy.

I didn’t miss the fact that the guys don’t sit with the rest of the football players, who are easy enough to spot based on their rowdy behavior and letterman jackets. But if you’re the QB like Dom, you’re practically high school royalty. So, if the guys always stuck to themselves, me being there isn’t going to go over well with the rest of the school.

Which was made abundantly clear once I got a new copy of my schedule from the front office and stepped inside my next class.

The teacher doesn’t make me stand and do the whole introductions thing, for which I’m grateful. I hate being the new girl and I hate being put on the spot even more. I already feel out of place and the extra attention and scrutiny makes my skin itch. The girl who sits behind me makes it a point to kick the back of my chair at least four times during class, and then when class ends, she calls me a slut and knocks my notebook off my desk as she walks past.

Wonderful.

Roman sees all of it and his only reaction is to smirk. This guy is some piece of work. One minute he’s kind of nice and helps me and then the next he’s openly hostile and encouraging this kind of behavior toward me. I start to wonder if maybe he called me “his girl” last period just to make things difficult for me. Like he somehow knew the reaction that would garner.

When she walks past him, he makes a show of throwing his arm around her and walking out of the class beside her.

So dumb.

I ignore it all, though, and head to my last class of the day. Welding.

After a quick trip to the restroom, I make it to class just after the bell rings. I’m greeted by a sea of confused expressions as I stand in the open doorway. There are maybe twenty kids in the class and all of them are boys. Not surprising. The class has already started and I don’t want to interrupt, but when the teacher notices everyone’s confused faces staring at something behind him, he turns and spots me.

“Are you lost?” he asks me with a frown.

I shake my head. “No. I have Welding fourth period,” I tell him, stepping closer to hand him my schedule. “I’m a late transfer,” I add sheepishly.

His frown deepens, his nearly white brows furrowing together like two fuzzy caterpillars.

“Were you dropped in here because of space issues?” he asks, seemingly still confused.

“No. I chose Welding as my elective.”

That throws him off.

“Are you one of the boy-crazy ones?” There’s annoyance in his tone.

I snort. At my old school, a lot of the girls would take weightlifting as their P.E. elective because all the jocks took it. It was a good way to bump elbows with the cool crowd, but I wasn’t one of those girls. I actually liked this class.

“No, sir. I enjoy welding.”

He raises a single brow. “You’ve welded before?”

I nod. “My old school offered it so this’ll be my third year. I’m decent at MIG and Stick. My TIG welding is,” I lift my hand and twist it side to side. “It’s just okay.”

His eyes widen but he nods his head and returns my schedule. “Alright then. Grab a seat. We’re doing a bit of a refresher today, anyway.”

I head to the only available chair. When I sit down, a boy leans over his desk toward me. “Hey, you’re new here, right?”

I nod, bracing myself for whatever he says next.

“I’m Aaron. What’s your name?”

“Allie,” I say, surprised by the introduction.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Allie.” He flashes me a brilliant smile. He’s cute. Really cute. He has shaggy blond hair that hangs down in his face and bright green eyes. Dressed in black Volcom pants and an O’Neill shirt he gives off a skater vibe, but it’s cool and it definitely fits him. My assumption is confirmed when I spot the skateboard resting on the floor beside his desk.

I match his smile before turning my attention to our instructor.

Most of what he goes over I already know. He gives us a refresher on safety protocols. I guess they had an injury the day before.

Always wear your face shield. Always wear closed-toe shoes. Wear a long-sleeved nonflammable shirt when welding along with a welding jacket. Wear gloves.

He shows us where the eyewash station is and then goes over the equipment. Most of the kids ignore him but I pay attention just in case there’s anything he might do differently from what I learned before.

“First trimester we cover MIG welding,” Aaron tells me as we resume our seats. No surprise there since it’s the easiest form of welding there is. It’s like the hot glue gun of the welding world.

The teacher—Mr. Moyer—explains how the welder works and just as he starts diving into how to prep for your weld, the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

“We’ll continue where we left off tomorrow,” he says to the class. “Study your syllabus and get a parent signature on your safety waiver,” he reminds me as I grab my things to head out.

I nod and pull my phone from my pocket, realizing I have a text.

It’s from Janessa.

I frown but then decide it’s probably good his meeting ran late. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the ride home with Gerald. I search the App Store on my phone for the Uber app and hit download. I haven’t needed to Uber before, but it’s not rocket science.

Aaron sidles up beside me and peaks over my shoulder at my phone.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Ger—my dad is just running late so I’m gonna catch an Uber.”

“I can give you a ride.”

“You don’t even know me.” I give him an incredulous look.

He shrugs and gives me back a boyish grin. “I know. But I’d like to get to know you.”

Heat creeps up my face, but before I can respond, Roman is suddenly beside me. “Back off, Henderson.” He shoves Aaron back into the lockers.

My mouth drops open and I grab for his arm. “What the heck, Roman?”

He raises a brow and the corners of his mouth lift in a devilish smirk. “Heck? Really?”

I glower at him. As Aaron shoves away from the locker, his face red and angry, I jump between them. With my back to Aaron, I scowl at Roman. “School’s out. You don’t need to babysit me anymore.” Not that he was doing a great job of it to begin with.

Dom and Emilio walk up beside him and both level menacing gazes on the boy behind me.

“What is your deal?” I ask, not understanding where all of their hostility is coming from.

“You know him?” Emilio asks, tipping his chin toward Aaron.

I shrug. “Sort of. Yeah. We have Welding together.” I can feel the anger radiating off Roman in front of me. His eyes are narrowed, his hands clenched into white fists at his sides, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares Aaron down behind me like he can kill him with just a look.

“He’s bad news, vanilla. Make sure you don’t ever get in a car with this one.” Emilio says.

“Would you stop calling me that? I have a name.” And why does he care if I maybe get a ride with Aaron? Is he some daredevil driver or something?

No one says anything for several seconds. I feel Aaron’s hand on my hip a moment later and I turn to face him. “I’ll catch you later,” he grits out between clenched teeth. I give him a tight smile and a nod.

What else can I do? So much for the lift.

The three guys in front of me watch Aaron’s retreating form with varying degrees of hostility. When I turn to head the same direction, Roman’s hand shoots out, grasping me by my wrist.

“Henderson is bad news.”

I pull away. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?”

He nods.

“Look. I don’t know what your deal is but Aaron is the only person who’s bothered being nice to me. I’m not going to stay away from him just because you say so.”

“Hey! We’ve been nice,” Emilio calls out.

I shrug. “You two have,” I say, signaling to him and Dom. “But he,” I point a finger in Roman’s direction. “along with the rest of this school, have been complete jerks.”

A tick forms on Roman’s jaw but I’m not having it. I might look the part of a meek little wallflower but I’m not one.

I storm off toward the school’s exit, ignoring him as he calls after me.