CHAPTER 13
1229 Words
Calla laughed, shrugging. She decided to go for a half-truth. "He makes it way too
easy. What, did I hurt his feelings or something?"
"Nah. He's just...he can get a bit wound up sometimes." Vincent fiddled with the
bag's strap on his shoulder, contemplating her. "Didn't you guys used to hang out?
When we were little, I mean. I'm just trying to understand your..." He held up his
hands in a helpless gesture. " Dynamic ."
She held her textbook closer to her chest, pretending to be lost in thought. "We did,
yeah."
And that was the full truth. Calla chalked their childhood friendship up to chance.
Chance and proximity. They'd been neighbors, after all. And without Rachel to play
with during that stretch from first to second grade—the teachers had thought it wise
to put them in different periods for recess—Cooper had been Calla's go-to.
But then she went and ruined it all. She'd tried. She really had tried to leave that cat
alone. But the damn thing had wandered into her yard, taunting her...
She'd never played with Cooper Daniels in that field again.
"I don't really know why Coop and I stopped hanging out. He just...didn't seem
interested anymore." She shrugged again, looking up at Vincent. "He had you, I
guess."
She put just an ounce of jealousy in her voice, hoping to turn the tide of the
conversation. It worked.
"Bros before hoes, I guess?" he suggested, giving her a guilty smile.
His eyes really were a lovely shade of brown. She tried not to envision them floating
in a jar on her bookshelf.
She rolled her eyes. "I suppose I'll forgive you for stealing away my childhood friend."
"Awesome. Only took you, what? Eight years?" He bent down and bumped her
shoulder with his.
"It's called growth ," she said, holding a hand to her chest. His eyes followed the
movement. "So. You really tracked me down to hear about my tragic falling out with
Coop?"
"Sorta." He cleared his throat. "For a second there, I thought you and him were,
like...a thing." His eyes swept the hall. "But then I saw you with Michaels."
"Wrong on both counts, I'm afraid." She shot him a look. "Why? Did Cooper say—?"
"Nope. No. The exact opposite, in fact." Vincent gave her a bashful grin. "Actually, I
think it's Rachel he wants."
Calla withheld a sigh. She wasn't sure how she felt about Cooper pursuing Rachel—
if casting her shy glances counted as pursuing. Then again...
Keep your friends close, Calla. And your enemies.
"She thinks he's cute," she blurted out, and then held a hand to her mouth, as if
she'd said something she shouldn't have. She looked at Vincent, panicked. "Don't
tell him I said that."
The way she was stirring this pot, she could give even Jessica Sneider a run for her
money.
"Your secret is safe with me." He puckered his lip to hide a smile. "So. I also take it
that you and Michaels aren't an item?"
"What if we were?" she mused, coming to a halt outside of her philosophy class.
"What would you say to that?"
Vincent paused with her. This time, he was unable to hide the grin on his face.
"Considering the guy looks like he could be on the cover of a boy band...I'd say
that's tragic."
Calla laughed, genuinely pleased.
"Did you even give the poor guy your number?" he asked, trying for nonchalance. He
pulled it off better than Cory had.
"Are you asking for my number?" Calla raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her smile.
"Depends." His grin widened. "Are you going to give it to me?"
"Ask nicely."
"Calla Parker," he started, and gave a dramatic flourish of his hand. He bowed,
causing her to scoff. "May I humbly ask for your...digits?"
She couldn't help herself; she rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "Gimme."
He looked smug as he pulled out his phone.
"I'm warning you," she cautioned, putting in her information. "Cory Michaels has it
out for me. He wouldn't like this little exchange at all."
"Cory Michaels can suck my dick." He took his phone back and gave her a
suggestive smile that said, and you can too, if you want.
"I'll keep that in mind." She bit back another smile. "Do me a favor. Next time you
see him, tell Coop I don't bite, will you?"
Vincent's eyes lit up. "Can do. Just...go easy on him, will you? He's a nice guy."
She promised she would. He shook his head like he didn't believe her and then
turned to saunter down the hall, oozing the easy confidence of a guy who knew his
place—and that place was at the top of the social hierarchy.
You're right. Cooper is nice. Vincent turned and winked at her before disappearing
into a classroom at the end of the hall; nice was definitely not the word that popped
into her head. But do the nice guys ever win?
The rest of her day went by in a blur of forced laughter. Jessica—who Calla shared
both fourth and fifth period with—typically spared Calla the gruesome details of her
bi-weekly hookups. But apparently, Calla's bad karma had called in a favor, as the
other girl spent the entirety of both classes running her through a painstaking play-
by-play of her latest conquest.
If Calla had to feign enthusiasm over one more player on the boy's varsity basketball
team , she would use the knife sitting in her sock drawer to gauge her own eyes out.
The final bell rang, sparing Jessica from death by strangulation. Jessica bid her
farewell as she headed to the gym for cheerleading practice—she'd been
insufferable since her promotion to captain, a spotlight that she'd previously shared
with Tracy. She now shared it with Rachel, though she did so grudgingly. Calla
watched her go, trying to hide her relief.
Taking her time, Calla meandered to the back of the school, her backpack slung over
one shoulder. Student athletes passed her on their way to the gym, while the
student council—including Rachel and Astrid, who represented the sophomore and
junior classes, respectively—met in the library to go over plans for the winter gala.
Calla supposed she'd be forced into going to that horrid dance. Rachel wouldn't
take no for an answer.
She pushed through a throng of freshmen and escaped to the back parking lot,
adjacent to the running track where the majority of her teammates had already
gathered. Before she could take more than five steps in their direction, she paused.
She'd been so caught up in her own thoughts, about Jessica Sneider and Tracy
Smith and kitchen knives, that it took a moment to process what she was seeing.
Cooper Daniels was about to get his ass kicked for the second time that day.
He lay curled up on the pavement of the near-vacant lot, trying and failing to protect
his face from a boy twice his size. A closer look told Calla that the boy was Jacob Stein.
Cooper—the little s**t—wasn't even trying to fight back. But she had to give it to
him; he was taking it without so much as a sound.
- Writer
