I turn to find Wade rolling his eyes at me. Yeah. Busted. I was totally staring at Ella’s table. She’s sitting with Val on the opposite side of the dining hall, and I know she chose that spot on purpose. She’s putting as much distance between us as humanly possible.
And she positioned her chair so that her back is to the room. To me. She wants me to know it’s over, but we both know it’s not. She hated me before and still fell for me. Nothing’s really changed between us. We’re still sparring, still circling each other like well-matched opponents, but we’re there, in the ring, together. And that’s all that matters.
“I’m allowed to stare.” I scowl at him. “You, on the other hand, are not. So keep your eyes off my girl. Your lips, too.”
He just grins. “Hey, it’s not my fault she shoved her tongue in my mouth.”
I growl. “Bring it up again and I’ll lay you out.”
“You’d never hurt your quarterback,” Wade taunts, laughing as he rises from his chair. “I’ll catch you bros later. Got someone waiting for me in the bathroom.”
All the guys roll their eyes. Wade is notorious for his bathroom hookups.
“Hey, East,” someone else says from the other end of the table. “Heard you hooked up with Savannah Montgomery.”
I jolt upright. Seriously? First Abby, and now Sav?
When Abby pulled me aside at the party, it was to apologize for hooking up with East. She claimed she was mad at me and that it was her way of lashing out. It was hard to stop myself from saying I don’t give a damn who you screw. But it’s true, I don’t. I was over Abby even before Ella entered the picture, and I honestly don’t care who she sleeps with.
What I do care about is East. My brother’s out of control and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. That’s what keeps me up at night. Well, that, and Ella.
Speaking of Ella, one of my teammates suddenly mentions her name. I drop any pretense that I’m not interested and turn to face the two football players who are gossiping like they’re at a Junior League luncheon.
“What about Ella?” I demand.
Neiman Halloway, a sophomore O-lineman, grimaces. “Just heard she had a bad time of it in Speech today.”
“What happened?” I fold my arms across my chest and glare at the two players. If they don’t start talking, they’re going to wear an imprint of their lunch trays on their faces.
Neiman clears his throat. “I wasn’t there, but my sister’s in her class. Said that Ella had to give a speech today about the people she looked up to or some shit. She wrote it about her mom, and, ah…” He shifts uncomfortably.
“Spit it out. I’m not gonna punch you for repeating what went on in class, but I might beat the crap out of you if you don’t stop wasting my time.”
From the other side of the table, East is also listening intently, but he doesn’t meet my eyes when I try to catch his gaze.
“Right. Okay. So I guess some kids were busting her ass, you know? Saying shit like ‘I look up to strippers, too. Usually when they’re grinding on my face.’ And my sister says one of the Pastels asked if Ella had any home videos of her mom teaching her how to blow clients.”
I can feel my face grower darker and angrier at every word he says. I remind myself that he’s just the messenger and I can’t kill the messenger.
Neiman’s paler than a ghost by now. “And then some girl told her that her mom died of shame because Ella’s such a slut.”
I catch a flash of movement from the corner of my eye and turn to see Ella and Val making their way across the gleaming hardwood floor, empty trays in hand.
I’m tempted to chase after her, but as much as I want to comfort her, I know she’s not interested in hearing from me. Besides, comfort can only do so much.
Wade was right—something’s got to change here at school. Before she left, no one but maybe Jordan would’ve dared to talk to Ella like that.
I turn back to the guys. “That it?” I ask between gritted teeth.
Neiman and his friend exchange a worried glance.
No, that wasn’t it, I guess. I brace myself for the rest.
His friend picks up the story. “When we were walking out, someone asked Daniel Delacorte if dollar bills fell out when Ella spread her legs for him. He said, no, she’s too cheap. Only quarters.”
I stick my fists on my knees because I’m afraid if I lose control, I’m going to destroy this whole fucking school. “Text your sister,” I bark at Neiman. “I want some names.”
Neiman has his phone out faster than when he lunges at an opposing defense that’s after his quarterback. He taps out a quick message, and we sit there for nearly a minute waiting for a response. By the time his phone beeps, I’m ready to murder someone.
“Skip Henley is the one who said the dollar bill thing—”
Neiman doesn’t even finish the sentence before I’m on my feet. My periphery vision shows East standing up too, but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“I’ve got this,” I growl.