13
Ian
It’s another Monday. The weekend dragged on like a bad hangover, only I didn’t drink. Stormy was my poison, and I’m in writhing agony since she made me go cold-turkey on Friday.
I’m pissed off. I’m annoyed. I’m disappointed I let her down, and that pisses me off even more.
I want to punch something. Scratch that. I want to pound my fists until my knuckles split open and bleed, until I can see the white of the bone and the pain swallows up this misery.
I glance up from my half-eaten plate, my eyes scrolling languidly as I take in the chattering students, the waiters clearing plates and refilling drinks, and a clock that counts down to my next temporary distraction.
Across the table, Archie’s face is tinted blue by his iPhone. He hasn’t said a word to me, and lunch is almost over. A passing waiter attempts to take Archie’s untouched plate, and Archie snaps a hand around the waiter’s wrist to stop him.
I roll my eyes. Since when does Archie put anything before food? He’s the human equivalent of a garbage disposal. He eats like 10,000 calories a day. Of course, he runs it off with the rest of us every night, but still, I’ve seen him devour a bag of Big Macs like he’s got one minute to eat until the comet hits and blows everything to shit. He is a walking advertisement for how to clog your arteries and develop Type 2 diabetes.
But here he is, just staring at his stupid fucking phone.
“Archie,” I snap, when he gives no sign of noticing my stare, “what the fuck are you looking at?”
Archie flashes me a quick smile. By my count, at least five of his female admirers swoon in our direction. Jesus, the least Ivy could do is scare them off.
“No, brother,” Archie says, grinning down at his phone. “No way am I sharing this. I call keepsies for me-sies.”
The last of my patience spontaneously combusts. I lurch across the table and snatch his phone. Archie tries to steal it back, but I swat his hand away.
“If it’s porn again,” I deadpan, “we’re sending you to rehab.”
I don’t actually care if it is porn. He could literally watch furry hentai, and I wouldn’t give a shit, but if I can’t bust up someone’s face, the least I can do is bust his balls.
Archie laughs. “I don’t need that anymore, brother.”
Ivy beams at him as she passes the table and lays a manicured claw on his shoulder. She thinks he’s talking about her. I know better.
I look down at the phone and see Stormy’s smiling face looking back at me. She is sitting in a classroom, her cheeks ruddy and laughter sparking in her eyes. She’s fucking breathtaking, and the picture does just that, steals the oxygen from my lungs before I remember why I am seeing it.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
As Ivy continues on her way, no doubt going to touch up her makeup before her next class, I glare at Archie. Everett’s gaze darts between us, and even Chase looks on edge, which is very un-like Chase.
“Why the fuck do you have a picture of Stormy?” I hiss.
Archie shrugs as if he didn’t just commit the bro-code version of genocide. “She’s my partner in lab. Sometimes she’ll let me take a pic. I tell her it’s for the yearbook, except that one time when I definitely told her I was going to jack off to it.” He snorts. “You should have seen her face. She turned soooo red,” he points at his nose, “and did this funny twitching thing.”
“THERE’S MORE THAN ONE?” I nearly explode. I’m ignoring the jacking off part. I can only handle one mother-fucking problem at a time.
I don’t know if Archie answers. My monster roars, deafening everything else. A quick flick of my thumb over his screen confirms it. There’s at least a dozen pictures of her, and some are of the two of them wearing safety goggles and making silly faces.
“She’s mine,” I snap, my fingers threatening to crush the phone. “There are rules.”
“Dude, the Rules don’t say anything about whether I can date her.” He raises his hand like he’s innocent. “You never had a problem with a good competition before.”
My hand slams against the table, and my palm stings. “I called dibs!”
Fuck. I sound like a pussy.
“Bro,” Archie says, staring at me. He blinks slowly, like he just doesn’t get why we aren’t on the same page, “you did that because you couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else even touching her. Noble, but dumb. Really dumb.” He looks over his shoulder, scanning the cafeteria. “Now where’s that delicious blonde brownie?”
I am going to murder him. I am going to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until he stops twitching.
Everett barely catches me as I lunge across the table.
— Harlow —
I kneel next to Molly, whose sitting on the floor outside of the Administration building, victim to another one of Finn Berkshire’s torments.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her.
My heart splinters, and no amount of superglue and duct tape will ever fix it. I’m convinced some things remain broken no matter what you do. Hearts and souls are two of those things.
She drags in a deep breath through her nose and nods solemnly. “I’ll be okay, Harlow. Go to class.” She smirks and adds, “It’s not like you can afford to miss it.”
I laugh, partly because she’s right. I am hovering with my head just barely above water. Before Voclain, I thought I was relatively intelligent. Now, I know I’m lacking. It feels like I have to study twice as much as everyone else just to keep up. Mostly though, I laugh because she still has bite, and I like it.
I give Molly a quick hug, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing
