Page 2 of Ashton

“Need help?”

“Nah, this will be easy.”

“Fine, see you later.”

I take off in search of one geek that’s gonna shit his pants. It’s easy to find him; luckily, Archie never leaves the café. That fuck is done for. Like last time, Archie is sitting at the same table typing away on his laptop.

I slam his laptop shut, causing him to damn near jump out of his seat. When his wild eyes land on me, he pales.

“I’m sure you remember me. Did you forget something? Fuckin’ important?” I spit out.

I swipehis computer off the table, and it crashes to the floor.

“A-Ashton. I-I didn’t forget. I swear.” He looks around for help.

“No one is going to help you. I was almost kicked off the swim team because of you.”

I lean in close, caging him in. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. That’s right, be nervous.

“I’ll get it finished today.”

“Yeah, you will, or I’ll be back.” I push away from him, placing my two fingers at my eyes, then back to him in an I’m watching you motion.

He better pray to whoever he can that he finishes it on time because I am not sacrificing dick shit for this school. If I get canned from the swim team, what else is there for me here? I push my way through the lineup, getting a few glares and comments in return.

I head to my art class. If anything, splattering some shit colors onto a canvas should get me out of this angry mood. If only the teacher would let me paint what I want, things would go much smoother, and I would probably pass that class more easily. It could be worse—at least I’m not Ace.

The sight before me makes me want to die.

Ace is in the center of the class, standing on a small podium, posing like a douche. No one in their right mindsits on a bench, crossed-legged, resting their chin on their hand, except my brother.

I bite back my laugh, but the glare that Ace gives me, is the push I need. I burst into laughter, disturbing the entire class.

“That’s enough, Ashton. Take your seat before I ask you to leave.” The teacher sends deathly glares at me from her desk.

“Hey, you’re the one that did this.” I point back at my brother before taking my seat.

I catch Spencer grinning as I grab my paintbrush.

Fine, he’s all right.

“I want you to draw our subject using expressionism. Tell me what you see and feel on your canvas.”

Well. This is bullshit. I can tell you what I see. I grab a glob of black paint and paint Ace. He’s lucky that I was blessed with the genes of being an artist. Only when I apply myself, but in this case, I think I’ll pass and make him look like a donkey. Besides, the teacher did say to express yourself.

I want to see Jinx, but I feel the right thing to do is wait for her to come to me. I think I come off as a little intense andneed to step back. Deep in the back of my mind, I should tell her what happened to me, but with what’s happening with her, I don’t want to add more shit to her plate, besides my problems aren’t as significant as hers.

We need to work hard to find her pervy little stalker. The list Ace printed out hasn’t been much help; who knew how many guys go to this school? And every class is different. It’s a lot of cross-referencing, and it’s not like we can call up the cell phone and strike up a conversation in class to see whose phone rings.

“Did you seriously paint me as a fuckin’ donkey?” Ace grabs my painting off my easel.

I burst into laughter at the look on Ace’s face. “Fuckin’ rights I did. Explain to me how you landed in that position?”

“I was late one too many times,” he growls.

“Ah, so you were punished. Lucky me then.” I shoot him a huge smile.

He shoots me the middle finger along with a grim smile in return.