Page 132 of Burning Embers
Whatever Reid says next is lost to the whispers of the three students sitting directly in front of us.
“Is she really flirting with him?” the boy asks, sounding incredulous.
A girl sniffs. “Of course not. He’s disgusting.”
“I heard that she’s dating Emery,” another girl interjects.
“She’s probably cheating on him with Reid,” the first girl retorts. “I heard she’s a little bit of a whore.”
“Not even a whore would lower their standards to sleep with Reid,” the boy says with a chuckle.
“God, what happened to him? He used to be hot. Now, I can’t stand being in the same room as him. His smell alone seriously makes me want to vomit.”
All three of them laugh at that, and I see red. My hands curl into fists as fury races through me, scorching my veins.
“Hey, assholes,” I whisper-hiss, immensely grateful that this is the one class where everyone can get away with chatting amongst themselves.
No one pays me or my outburst any attention.
No one, that is, except for the three idiots.
Slowly, almost warily, the three of them turn back to stare at me, almost as if they’re shocked I’m addressing them directly. I don’t recognize any of them, but that doesn’t surprise me. I don’t have a really big social circle yet. They may be the same assholes who talked shit about Reid that first day of school.
The boy flushes bright red, and one of the girls lowers her head in embarrassment. The other simply stares directly at me with arched eyebrows and flared nostrils.
“Yeah?” she asks, sounding annoyed at being interrupted.
“Why don’t you guys stop gossiping about us and get back to work, okay? You don’t know anything about me or Reid. Or Emery, for that matter. Besides, what you’re saying is vile and completely untrue. So just kindly fuck off.” I can barely speak through the rage percolating deep in my chest.
“It’s not untrue when it’s someone’s opinion,” the girl snaps.
God, I want to slap her across her smug face so badly right now.
“As I said before, you don’t know either of us, so you have no place to judge or even have an opinion.” I slowly work to unclench my hands, one finger at a time.
The girl looks at me for a second longer, her gaze assessing, before she rolls her eyes with a muttered, “Whatever,” and focuses on her own canvas.
Her friends giggle guiltily and turn around as well.
It’s only when they’re no longer staring at me that I feel like I can breathe again. The pressure in my chest eases ever so slightly.
Until I turn to face Reid.
His jaw is clenched so tightly I’m surprised he doesn’t chip a tooth. He keeps his glare pinned on the backs of the three students’ heads. One of his hands balls into a fist while the other flexes by his side. He doesn’t seem to realize I’m watching him, so I take the moment to study him unencumbered.
For a brief moment, I see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes. Pain. Grief.Agony. The sight of it steals the breath from my lungs all over again. Then Reid’s mask slides back into place like a door being slammed shut.
“Reid,” I say softly, but he’s already slinging his backpack over his shoulder and ripping his canvas off the easel.
The teacher calls his name, but he ignores her as he stalks out of the classroom.
He doesn’t look back.
And I don’t see him again for another week.
Forty-Five
IZZY