Page 33 of Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

She smiles and bounces over, but I lift a hand and walk away.

I keep my eyes forward and shoot straight for English, practically sprinting inside when I reach the door. I drop into the seat and lean against my elbows, my hands shielding my face as I take a damn breath.

What in the hell is happening?

“I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

I jerk, spinning to glare at the fool who must have just now dropped his ass behind me ... who isn’t even in this class.

“Why are you here?” I frown.

He grins. “Not happy to see me, RaeRae?”

“Don’t you have a class to be in or somethin’?”

“I’m in it.”

“No,” I drawl out slowly. “You’re not.”

He winks then waves a pink slip of paper over his head. “Mr. Bell, got something for ya.” His eyes meet mine again. “Transfer form.”

I spin in my chair, fighting the urge to cross my arms over my chest like a child.

The class starts a few minutes later and I don’t miss the curious and not at all discreet stares sliding from our new classmate to me.

A few minutes pass and then Royce’s hot breath hits my neck. “You wanna know what’s going on?” he whispers.

Not sure if the sultry tone he gives is on purpose or if he simply can’t help himself. It’s full of heat and dirty promises I have no doubt he can keep.

“You had our backs. Again. And not because you had to, RaeRae.”

My forehead creases.

“Guess what that means?” he asks but doesn’t give me time to answer – not that I planned to. “It means you’ll be under our watch, constantly. Every move you make, we’ll know about. Every word spoke, we’ll likely hear. You’ll show your cards soon enough. And we’ll be around when you do. Know what us being up your ass’ll look like?”

I roll my eyes, still facing forward and wait for him to answer himself, knowing damn well he can’t not.

“It makes everyone here think we’ve claimed you, that we’ve stamped our names on what I’m sure is a pretty pink puss. It’ll be different from when they thought you were our toy, that was basically like a test drive – can she work a stick or can’t she. Every guy here has been primed for you since, but if they want to play, they’ll have to ask our permission first. You know, ‘cause you’ll be seen as our property now. You’re suddenly the girl everyone will pretend to like when all they really wanna do is take your place.” He chuckles darkly. “They’ll all love to hate you.”

When I spin to glare at him, he sits back in his chair with a vile smirk.

“Trust no one now, RaeRae. This is when the fakes come out to play.”

I face forward again, scowling at nothing.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

I trust no one as it is.

But really, I went from being their groupie to the whore they couldn’t stand and now... what?

With a sigh, I pick up my pen.

I doodle in my notebook the rest of the period, escaping as quickly as possible once the bell rings, but Royce’s maniacal little chuckle when I do should have been my warning, because as soon as I’m seated in my next class, tool number two saunters in, glasses still on and all.

I stare Captain down, knowing he’s watching me behind his dark lenses.

“Is this necessary?”

He nods, his gaze roaming around the room before he turns my way. He drops into the seat beside me.

He seems the most sensible of the three, or at least the one more likely to let me speak even if it does go in one ear and out the other.

I lean toward him, speaking low. “So people saw me rope up that girl, who cares. I’m sure people do stupid shit to get on your buddy list all the time.”

“Not why you did it.”

“You don’t know shit! Pretend it was your idea. Tell them ... I don’t know, that you used me to get what you needed and then broke my poor little heart.”

Captain scoffs, tilting his head as he pushes his glasses up. His light eyes stare me down a moment before he shakes his head and looks away.

“Oh, spit it out, packman. Your boss ain’t here to tie your tongue.”

His eyes snap to mine. “Fuck you.”

“Not a chance.” I grin and look at that, he thaws a bit.

He sits back in his chair, his eyes lazily scanning over me before locking with mine. “You think anyone who spends ten seconds in your presence would believe that we broke your little heart?” he mocks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means your wires are crossed.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, well,” he sighs, sitting back. “Guess we’re changing that.”

“And what’s Maddoc think about all this?”

He eyes me, trying to read me but can’t. I’m good at giving nothing to those who don’t deserve it.