Late August, Seven Years Earlier
I cringed, my shoulders held up protectively against my ears, wishing I could hide. I ducked farther into the safety of my locker as I dug around for my math book. Of course, I already knew exactly where it was, but I was delaying, doing everything I could to ignore the taunts Jasmine hurled my way.
She edged in close to my back and leaned over my shoulder, the caustic smell of her thick perfume making me recoil. Jasmine laughed, obviously thinking it was her face all up in mine that had me shrinking away.
Anger burned deep in my spirit, a feeling I despised, but one I’d been experiencing more and more lately.
“Aren’t you praying hard enough, Sam? Is that why your brother is sick?” she taunted. Jasmine glanced behind her to the pack of snarling girls staring me down, all of them at the beck and call of their vicious ringleader. “Maybe the little prude isn’t as innocent as she leads us all to believe,” she said to incite her little crowd.
The Bitch Brigade laughed and threw in their own jeers.
I wanted to spit in her face. Maybe wrap my hands around her neck. Worse yet, I wanted to wish my brother’s sickness on this girl instead. But I kept my mouth pressed tight, holding in all the harsh, evil words I wanted to set free.
My parents taught me never to match this kind of provocation, warning that people would always judge me for who I was.
The pastor’s daughter.
It was something I had discounted, never believing my parents’ caution, until Jasmine and her crew had somehow set their sights on me toward the end of last year. Every day it got worse and worse, as if the insults they slung were never enough. Or maybe it was just that I never gave them the satisfaction they craved.
Jasmine grabbed me by the shoulder, her fingers digging painfully into my skin. She jerked me around and pushed me back up against my metal locker. It rattled behind me.
My eyes went wide as they all closed in on me, and fear slithered under the surface of my skin. I’d never been frightened of them before, but there was something on Jasmine’s face that told me maybe I should be.
Because it was filled with pure hatred. A hatred I had neither earned nor understood.
“Prissy bitch… such a little cock tease, prancing around here like you’re God’s gift to the earth.”
The shake of my head was flustered, confused. I’d never come close to teasing anyone. People rarely even talked to me or gave me a second glance. For the most part I was invisible… until word had spread about my brother, and for a fraction of a moment, I’d become the center of attention, as unwelcome as it’d been.
That’s what this is about?
“You’re pathetic.” I whispered my anger around my dried tongue.
That flicker of fear grew stronger when Jasmine edged in closer, but I didn’t care. I wouldn’t stand silent and listen to them slander my brother, my family, even if it spurred Jasmine on.
I could take it.
A loud crash of metal caused me to scream, and the lockers shook with the force of the bash that came just above my head. Pinching my eyes, I waited for a lance of pain, for the strike to register on my face, but none came. Slowly my eyes flickered open to find Jasmine stumbling back when she met with the face of Christopher Moore, who had wedged himself between me and the girl who’d taken it upon herself to make my life a living hell.
“Don’t you have something better to do? I heard the entire basketball team is in the locker room. They should be expecting you. Or have you already grown bored of the taste of sweaty dick in your mouth?” His taunt was just as thick as the one Jasmine had used on me.
“Fuck you,” she slurred, clenching her fists at her sides, her hands extending lower than the scrap of a skirt she wore. “You didn’t seem to mind when it was your dick.”
Jasmine had a reputation. I knew all about it. The worst part was Christopher Moore had one, too.
Like her words didn’t even faze him, Christopher glanced over his shoulder at me. “You okay?”
I tried my best to catch my breath and clear my head, but his expression muddied my thoughts all up again. The dread I’d felt in the face-off with Jasmine had transformed into a wave of dizziness that started in my unsettled belly and swirled all the way up to spin my head.
Christopher Moore was talking to me.
He frowned, still guarding me, but twisting enough so that his torso was facing me, concern strewn all over his gorgeous face. “Did this bitch hurt you?” he demanded.
I swallowed, searching for words that were all locked up in my tightened throat. Spastic and jerky, I shook my head. A shock of embarrassment rushed to my face, splashing crimson all over my pale skin. “No,” I whispered low when he continued to stare me down, waiting for an answer.
“What the hell do you care?” Jasmine had regained her composure, all the haughty bitchiness back in full force.
Because just like Christopher had called her, she was exactly that.
A bitch.
Jasmine tossed her hip to the side, going for a sexy, seductive pose that made me want to hurl.
A voice rumbled from the side. “He obviously cares nothing about you, Jasmine, so why don’t you be on your way.”
I tore my attention from where it was fixated on Christopher to the origin of the voice.
Jared Holt.
Here I was, surrounded by two guys who commanded attention wherever they went, Christopher Moore and Jared Holt. I couldn’t tell which of them was better-looking. Any of the girls at the school would have died to have either one of them.
But there was something about Christopher’s dark hair and the overt mirth and tease that gleamed bright in his emerald eyes that just about brought me to my knees. He was gorgeous. Beautiful. And a little bit terrifying. He was trouble with a capital T.
And I didn’t do trouble.
Jasmine ignored Jared and instead backed an inch away, glaring at Christopher. “You’re an asshole.”
Christopher edged in closer to my side. As if he was taking up my side.
My head reeled again.
“Yeah?” His nose curled with distaste. “And I can smell your nasty cunt from over here.”
My eyes went wide with shock. I couldn’t believe he’d just used the C-word. That was the dirtiest of dirty words. But it just rolled off his tongue as if he used it all the time.
He probably did.
My skin zinged when he gathered me up close, tucking me under his arm to shield me from the stifling hostility radiating from Jasmine.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he whispered, moving to shuffle me toward the school’s outdoor hallway.
With his arm slung over my shoulder, he shifted enough to look back, lifted his free hand high in the air to flip Jasmine off. “Stupid bitch,” he shouted out, before he turned and whisked me away.
I shook my head, staring at my feet as I rushed to keep up with Christopher’s long, confident stride, trying to make sense of what had just gone down. I blinked and attempted to slow down, whispering the words from my raw throat. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
Christopher scoffed, still taking up his protective stance at my side. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why?” I couldn’t stop the question from escaping my mouth. It was a genuine question with an answer I wasn’t sure I could really understand.
Christopher just shrugged. “Because I’m tired of watching that rabid bitch treat everyone around her like shit.” He glanced at me, all that bold arrogance playing around his face, but something serious blanketed his eyes. “And I sure as hell am not gonna stand around and watch her messing with you.”
The nerves rolling around in my stomach got confused with the attraction I’d always felt toward him.
But that attraction had always been from afar.
“Come on… let’s grab some lunch. I’ve worked up an appetite putting Jasmine in her place.” Christopher tossed me a casual wink and turned me toward the cafeteria.
Overwhelmed by it all, I allowed my wary feet to drag me to a standstill. “You don’t even know me.”
A step ahead, Christopher stopped when he realized I was no longer at his side, his pivot slow as he turned to face me. His expression pinned me to the sidewalk and left me without breath, the sudden burning intensity of his green eyes branding me.
He erased almost all the ground between us, swallowing up the personal boundaries I had so firmly set in place. Everything lit inside of me. Places that I’d had no idea existed flamed to life in front of this beautiful boy.
Cocking his head to the side, he captured my dumbfounded gaze. “I know your name is Samantha Schultz. I know you sit one row over and two seats in front of me in English literature because I can’t stop watching you.”
He lifted his hand, the pads of his fingertips fluttering along my jaw. A flash of nerves pebbled my oversensitive skin. He hooked his finger under my chin, bringing his lips a fraction from mine.
“And I know you have the prettiest mouth I’ve ever seen.”