Chapter 7

Caroline

*****

And then the door flew open and a pack of wolves emerged. By wolves, I meant half of the cheerleaders and their friends. The tall, leggy redhead, Ally, who'd been Greg's date for every dance and formal for as long as I could remember, threw us a saccharine grin.

"There you are, Greg!" she cooed. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

I glanced at him and was stunned by his discreet eye roll. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the pack.

"Hi, Ally." He smiled but it was so clearly forced that I almost laughed. "What's up?"

"Oh, we were just planning the after party at my house and I wanted your input on some things," she said, her friends bobbing their heads.

I didn't miss the suspicious or even downright hostile look some of them sent me. As if I asked for Greg to suddenly befriend me.

"Okay. What things?" he asked.

"Well . . ." She looked warily at me.

I was already rising to my feet, grabbing my backpack. "I was leaving anyway," I muttered.

"Caroline—" he started.

"See you later, Caroline," Ally taunted.

It would have been better if she never heard my name or of my existence. I mentally cursed Greg for ever approaching me. As soon as I walked towards the doors, my tray in hand, one of the cheerleaders stepped out in front of me. Her hand jutted out and knocked my tray backwards. The watery mashed potatoes dumped all over me. All I could do was gape down as the liquid penetrated the fabric of my favorite hoodie, the dark pink turning a sickening brown.

"Oh my god," said Ally.

"Mitchelle, what the fuck?" Greg said, his voice too close.

I felt the heat of his hand over my shoulder and it all became too much. I dropped the tray and hurried towards the school. My mind was blank with fury. Those bitches. I hated them. I really did. I'd tried to be nice to them so many times, helping with their assignments and offering my umbrella when it rained. They didn't care. If you weren't part of their crowd and you couldn't offer something they wanted, they could care less about you. It infuriated me that they felt so entitled and better than everyone else. No one should view other people as resources or means to an end. We all had things going on—hopes, fears, and desires.

I stomped into the bathroom with shaking hands. Even their behavior and attitude wasn't what infuriated me the most. It was knowing that I wasn't going to do anything about it. I was weak like that. My entire life I'd been useless at defending myself and my loved ones. I couldn't save my parents or Uncle James. I definitely couldn't save myself.

Just as I got to the sink and threw my backpack down, a male voice echoed through the concrete space.

"Caroline? Are you here?"

I stiffened. Then I closed my eyes and forced out an exhale. Go the fuck away, Bush. Can't you see you've caused enough problems?

"No," I muttered.

There was no response so I assumed he didn't hear me. Shaking my head, I looked up at my reflection over the sink. The entire front of my hoodie was saturated in a disgusting brown film. I didn't realize my eyes were watering until I saw the droplets fall to the tile below my sneakers. I quickly wiped the tears away and got to work on wetting some paper towels. It was just a stupid hoodie anyway. Just a silly birthday present Uncle James got me a few years ago. I hated it at first, because it was just like him to get me something that made me look like a child. But it was extremely cozy and the color eventually grew on me. Now, it was stained.

I shrugged the jacket over my head and laid it across the sink. I tried tapping the stain with the water but to no avail. So I started scrubbing. After a few minutes, I realized it was probably a lost cause. I stuffed it into my backpack and then shivered, since all I had underneath was a t-shirt.

The bell rang then and I knew I had to go or I'd be late. As I emerged from the bathroom, a hand caught my elbow. I spun around and jerked myself free of my attacker.

"Woah, easy there," Greg said. His eyes were soft as they looked down at me. "Hey, are you okay?"

I looked around, my brows furrowing. No one else was around except the departing lunch crowd. "Have you been waiting out here?"

"Yeah . . . seemed a little creepy to barge into the girl's bathroom."

I sighed. "Right."

As I turned and started towards my class, the giant jock fell into step beside me. Our shoulders brushed as the hallway narrowed and I felt my throat tighten.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry about them," he said. "They can be assholes sometimes."

Sometimes? I swallowed back my snark and focused on breathing through my nose, saying, "Yep."

"Oh, uh, here."

I looked over and saw him holding up a blue jumper. My eyes flickered up to his face.

"Take it," he said. "It's freezing."

"Is this yours?" If it was anyone else's, I'd rather freeze to death.

He smiled crookedly. "Sure is. Probably stinks like me too."

I rolled my eyes but accepted it. While we walked, I slipped it over my head. It was so warm and it definitely smelled like him. Just more like his cologne than his sweat, for which I was extremely thankful.

"Thanks," I said.

"Seriously, it's the least I could do."

I stopped outside my classroom. "See ya later, Bush." 

"See ya, Wilder."

Periodically throughout the afternoon, I found myself smiling. No one else knew but I was wearing the golden boy's sweatshirt. I knew better than to mistake his gesture as anything but sympathy and I really wasn't interested in Greg in that way. He had essentially ignored me for years now. That didn't mean I wouldn't be a friend or whatever. It was nice having someone who wanted to be around.

The hours ticked by quickly until the last bell clanged through the intercom. Like everyone else, I bolted for the door. I was ready to get home and dive into bed. Maybe I would look up jobs around too.

I stopped at my locker and dumped off some of the textbooks I wouldn't need. It was finally Friday and I wanted to put homework off as long as possible. When I reached my locker, I happened to glance up and catch Greg's light blue eyes. He was talking to one of his friend's. I smiled and then turned to shove my shit into the tiny rectangular box.

"Wilder."

Shutting the locker, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and turned to face him. His friend was gone now and he'd moved across the hallway in a few quick strides.

"Bush," I greeted with an awkward head bow.

He chuckled. "Are you heading out or staying after?"

"Staying after on a Friday? No can't do, mister."

"Well, I never know with nerds."

"You're a nerd."

He shrugged. "Exactly. I'm unpredictable."

Snorting, I rolled my eyes as we leisurely headed for the doors. Most everyone else had rushed out by now to catch the buses or beat school traffic. I didn't miss how closely Greg walked beside me. The warmth of his body seemed to cling to me as we moved. I squinted as we stepped out into the afternoon glow. A snap of wind soared across the parking lot and I shivered. Suddenly, I remembered I was wearing his pullover. He probably wanted it back but didn't want to be rude.

"Oh!" I halted on the sidewalk.

He paused to look down at me questioningly.

"Let me give you your sweatshirt back."

"What? No way," he said. "It's windy and cold. Just bring it on Monday."

I bit my lip. I really didn't want to take it home with me—it was obviously expensive and what if I misplaced it or spilled something on it? But I did have a twenty minutes walk back home. So I finally nodded and shouldered my backpack again.

"I appreciate it. Really," I told him.

He shared a smile with me. "No problem." 

When we reached the end of the sidewalk, he turned to the left where student cars were parked and I started to the right.

"See ya later," Greg said.

I waved. Then I turned and the sight before me stole my breath. It was him. The guy from the gas station. I blinked a few times. What was he doing here?

Then I remembered the blacked out sedan I'd been seeing on the way to and from school. I thought it was following me but figured I was just being crazy. Who would want to follow me anyway? And I had a feeling it was him. I knew it! But how?

I finally took in the expression on his face. His dark eyes were depthless as they bore down at me, furious. My skin tingled. He looked like Satan incarnate in black slacks and a matching suit, inky black hair loose and tousled. His tall frame was lined with subtle, toned muscles that filled his suit perfectly. Aviators rested on his head, buried in his black hair. His full, pink lips were pursed.

Damn. 

Then, I felt his hand circling my wrist and an unfamiliar heat drenched my bones. His eyes blazed as he growled, "Come with me."

As if in a trance, I let him lead me away. I would have followed him anywhere at that moment.