“Oh, this?” I make a show of pulling out my shirt and looking down at it like it’s something I’m proud of. My bra is hot pink and lacy and on full display for anyone who wants a look at my tits. Judging by the way people are staring, that’s pretty much everyone in the senior class. “This is just a little gift from Alice. You like?”
“Everyone can see you.” He hasn’t let go of my shoulder and has actually taken another step closer to me. He’s so close now that I can practically feel the heat radiating off of him.
“Nobody’s looking.” It’s a lie, and Quinn doesn’t even have to turn around to know that I’m not telling the truth.
“Everybody is,” he shoots back. “And you’re making me look like a fool.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud at this. “How in the hell am I making you look like a fool? I’m the one parading around in a shirt that looks like I was attacked by a tiger!”
“Because you belong to me, and everyone here knows it. I’m the one that gets to take your V-card, or have you forgotten?”
This close to him, there’s no way that I could ever forget that he wants to take my virginity. It’s almost impossible for me to stand so close to him without my body trying to betray me. He’s gorgeous, broody, chiseled, and smells amazing. I want to snuggle up next to him and feel the heat from him keep me warm, but there’s just one little problem.
He’s an asshole, and I hate assholes.
“I’m really not worried about your reputation or what other people think, Quinn. What I’m worried about is how hungry I am, so move.”
He doesn’t, and I try to take a step around him, but he easily shifts his position so that he’s standing in front of me again. Rolling my eyes, I scoot to the side to get around him, but he counters.
What are, five?
“You know what? I’m not hungry anyway.” I turn like I’m going to storm off but grab an apple at the last second. When I look across the cafeteria, my eyes lock with Madeline’s and I hope that she understands just how hungry I am.
If anyone is going to come through for me right now, it’s going to be her.
“Good.” Quinn’s voice behind me stops me in my tracks. “Because remember what I said, Abigail. I don’t want you getting out of this perfect little shape for me.”
I have to force myself to walk away from him. If I’m not careful, Quinn could easily be my downfall, and I’m not willing to give up on my dreams for someone like him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Madeline stand up from the table with Vincent and Natalie. She crosses the cafeteria to meet me and loops her arm through mine before we even get to the door.
“Are you okay?” Her voice is a hiss, and I nod.
I will be. As long as I have her and I can stay away from Quinn as much as possible then I’ll be just fine. But if I lose Madeline or he somehow gets his hooks any deeper in me then I’m screwed.
I just hope that he doesn’t realize that.
Chapter Nine
In between trying to hide from Quinn and trying to keep Alice away from me with scissors, I’ve also been working in the art room under Mr. Stanfield’s watchful eye while also working on an absolute beast of an accounting project.
I’m an artist, not a numbers person, but I’m slogging through it. Madeline and I have spent days working on our projects together, making sure that we can both show how an artist can easily handle their own books, and I can’t wait to turn it in.
“Hey, did you finish your project?” It’s Friday, almost a full week since the party out in the clearing, and Quinn is staring down at me at breakfast. It’s a bit unnerving to have him leaning over me like this, especially since I don’t know what he wants and he’s never before seemed to care about my grades in any class other than the one we share with Mr. Stanfield.
“Of course I did.” My laptop is in my bag at my feet, ready for me to show my work to Professor Thiel during first period. I’m not a numbers person, like I’ve said, but this is really good work. I’m actually proud of it, which is saying something, seeing as it’s not art.
“And how did you do?” All of a sudden, I have a very distinct feeling that something is wrong. He’s making eye contact with me like normal, but it’s not normal for him to have so many questions about something I’m working on.
“I did great.” Slowly, I stand up, not wanting to be below him any longer. “Why are you asking these questions?”
His eyes, which seemed almost happy just a moment ago, suddenly grow darker. “Because I know that you think you’re my competition with Mr. Stanfield, Abigail, and from your painting this week, I can see that you don’t totally suck. Well, not as hard as I thought.” He flashes me a grin and I blush, thinking about something else I could suck.
“So you’re just checking up on your competition?” This doesn’t seem like Quinn. There’s something strange about the way he’s acting. He’s cocky and full of himself, but I’ve never before seen him act worried.
“Something like that.” My bag is between our feet, and before I can stop him, Quinn upends the coffee he’s holding. It splashes down into the bag, filling it up, before slowly starting to leak out.
“No!” I scream, and drop to my knees, reaching for
