Ugly girl

As his eyes return to mine, they come with anger that sends a thrill right through me. “Move.”

I shake my head. “Not today, sweet cheeks.”

Mr. Carver groans from the front of the room and something tells me that he’s had enough of dealing with Slade Cruz’s bullshit over the years. “Slade. What do you think you’re doing? Stop trying to intimidate Skylah and find your seat. Clearly, that one is taken and it’s damn obvious to you and the rest of the class that she’s not about to move.”

Slade glares back at the teacher and I almost feel sorry for the guy as he appears crippled with fear. Shit, is that the reaction Slade was hoping to get out of me? Because damn, he’s got to improve his game if he hopes to have me begging for mercy.

Ignoring Mr. Carver, his glare comes back to me. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Really?” I say, letting the i

His gaze narrows and I see the resignation begin to overtake. He sees this is the end. He can’t possibly push this any further without appearing like an absolute dick to the rest of the class.

Slade goes to pushup from my desk when his eyes drop down. I’m instantly reminded of the sketch I’ve been working on and I go to scramble for it, but he’s too quick. His hand slams down on the paper and dread fills me. I hate sharing my work with the world before it’s ready to be seen, but what’s worse is that as I look over the sketch, it’s clear as day that the sharp lines and delicate softness come together to make none other than Slade’s handsomely, rugged face.

Well, shit.

Why’d I have to go and draw that? I don’t think I was even aware of it.

I go to take the notepad out from under his hand but he grips the page and with a sickening grin, he tears it free from the notepad.

Fuck, I feel sick and suddenly, I have absolutely no idea if I won this round or not.

Slade scoffs as though I’m the most pathetic creature he’s ever laid eyes on and takes a step to the row of desks directly behind me. His glare shoots down at the kid and as he was expecting of me, the kid grabs his shit and scrams.

With the softest chuckle, he drops down behind the desk and not a second later, his legs are stretched out under my chair, kicking my bag out of his way.

He sits beside Damian and it takes all of three seconds for them to start up an irritating conversation while Mr. Carver desperately tries to get on with his lesson. Though I have to give it to them, at least they’re keeping their tones to whispered murmurs.

I’m more than aware of Slade behind me and I find it impossible to tune him out and concentrate on the lesson or starting a new art project. So instead, I do my best to tune in as much as I can.

I lean back in my seat after placing my pencil back down on the desk. Let’s face it, I probably shouldn’t risk sketching again only to end up with a drawing of the dickhead behind me. God, what was I thinking? That was mortifying.

Damian’s lowered tone breaks me out of my i

“Let ‘em,” Slade’s deep rumbly voice replies. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to crush them.”

“You sure, man? Have you seen Roman Westbrock? He’s fucking good. I heard he’s already been offered a full ride.”

“Sure, he’s good, but he’s not better than me. He only got that full ride because his sister sucked the dean’s cock during summer break and has been threatening to tell his wife unless Roman got accepted.”

Damian barks out a sharp laugh. “No shit?”

“I shit you not. Besides, their one good player is nothing without the backup of his team and those other jocks can’t cut it. They wouldn’t know the difference between their own ass and their teammates.”

“Not to mention, we’ve got that new kid. What’s his name?”

There’s a heavy silence that seems to stretch on forever. I feel a heated gazed shooting into the back of my head and I don’t doubt that it belongs to Slade. In fact, after being glared at all day yesterday, I think I could probably pick out his glare in a line-up of a million people. There’s just something so…chilling about it.

Something is whispered before Slade’s lowered voice hits my ears. “It’s her brother,” he says with distaste. “Blake Daniels, but he ain’t shit. As long as I’m captain that little prick is going to see more bench time than the fucking water boy.”

“The fuck?” Damian says as I throw myself out of my seat and spin around, shocking myself with how fast I move. “I thought the kid was good.”

“What did you just say?” I screech, facing a gri

“Listening in on a private conversation?” he questions, raising a brow, trying and succeeding to get a rise out of me.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you don’t play Blake. What’s your problem with him? He’s done nothing to you. If you’d just give him a chance, you’d see he’s an incredible player. Hell, I’d put money down that he’s better than your sloppy ass.”

“Skylah,” Mr. Carver demands. “Sit down.”

Both Slade and I ignore him, both of us as equally locked in the other’s intense stare as Damian’s eyes flick between us like some sort of te

I scoff. If this is what he really thinks of me then that’s on him. I’m a fucking treat which only makes him a liar. If he thinks I’m here to prove something, then he can’t see through me at all. He’s taking guesses and in this case, he couldn’t be more wrong.

I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring Mr. Carver’s roar as he demands the class's attention. “You’re going to play Blake.”

“Sure, I’ll play him,” Slade says. “Once your bitch ass is gone.”

I see fucking red.

I don’t know why and I certainly don’t know how but one second, I’m standing, facing the prick and the next, I’m flying over the desk, nails out and more than ready to cause some damage to his pretty face.

Slade’s eyes widen in surprise but the excitement is so loud that he may as well be screaming it from the top of his lungs. He lets me come at him, but unlike in the past, Slade catches me with an ease that’s almost laughable.

Within the blink of an eye, I’m sitting on his lap with my body pressed down against the cool desk. My hands are twisted and held tightly behind my back, both of them wrapped between the fingers of his right hand while his left remains firmly on my back, holding me down.

Slade leans over me as I distantly hear Mr. Carver yelling at the top of his lungs, but right here, right now, all I can hear is him. His body presses down over me and I feel the zipper of his jeans move against my ass as he lowers his mouth to my ear. “I guess you have a weak spot after all, Virago.”