“Look,” she spoke up, killing the silence between us. “This tracker’s only accurate within fifty meters. So—”
“So start dialing my phone,” I interrupted. “Maybe we’ll hear it.”
Fifty meters covered a lot of area. The phone was here, but we’d need help finding out where exactly.
She dug her phone out of her back pocket and called my cell. We walked the tiled floors in silence, listening for any rings or vibrations from the lockers.
Even though she had the phone to her ear, I could still hear my voicemail pick up. Every time it did, she hung up and redialed as we continued to walk.
“Let’s split up,” she finally suggested after the fifth call. “I’ll keep dialing. Just listen for a sound. I think it’s in a locker.”
“Why?” I asked, stopping to look at her. “Someone could have it on them, too.”
“With me calling every ten seconds? No.” She shook her head. “They would’ve turned off the phone, in which case it would’ve gone straight to voicemail. It’s on, and it’s in a locker.”
Split up?
I rubbed my jaw, not liking this idea one fucking bit.
But we didn’t have long.
“Fine,” I bit out. “But if you find it, call my mom’s phone immediately. I don’t want you in the halls alone, not today.”
She stood there, studying me, like she wasn’t sure if any of this was worth her time. She was probably thinking that I did send the video, and I was just playing with her now.
Spinning around, she left and darted up the stairs to the next floor.
I continued searching the first floor, my fists clenching and unclenching inside of the front pocket of my hoodie as I listened for any sound of my phone.
I didn’t wear a watch, usually using my phone to tell the time, but I knew we were close.
The bell was going to ring, and we needed to just give this up and get the hell out of here.
This morning I’d felt her kisses, her hands, and her happiness. But now I only felt her doubt. It sat between us like a ten ton elephant.
The phone in my hand buzzed, and I jerked it up so fast I almost dropped it.
2nd floor, next to Kuhl’s room!! Tate texted.
Shit.
I fucking bolted up the nearest flight of stairs to the next floor and nearly tripped on the steps when the final bell screamed.
Dread slammed my stomach down to my feet, and I only hesitated a moment before I charged ahead through the doors and onto the second floor.
Students flooded the hall, all trying to get to their lockers or downstairs to leave.
Most of them did a second-take at seeing me, but I just turned left and pushed through the crowd as fast as I could.
People coming my way slowed down, while others stopped to whisper to their friends. There’s was no telling what was going through their heads, and my fists balled up in aggravation. Not only was I angry about what had happened, but I was completely fucking pissed that I now had to clean up a mess I didn’t make.
I finally found Tate next to a set of lockers towards the end of the hall, and she definitely had onlookers.
Her body was rigid, but she stood tall and didn’t hide from their stares. She looked at me, and I fucking melted when I saw her guard with me was back down.
“Are you alright?” I asked, taking her face in my hands.
“Yes.” Her tone told me everything. She believed me. “The phone is here, in 1622,” she said softly, and I tensed. “I don’t know whose locker it is, though.”
I do.
I looked behind her, my eyes hardening on the locker.
Piper.
My jaw was glued together, and oxygen poured in like fuel.
I didn’t hit women, but I’d damn well let Tate hit her.
“Back so soon?” a female voice snipped behind me. “Is your porn career a failure already?”
Tate’s body shifted under my hands, and I placed a light kiss on her forehead before I turned around to face the bitch.
I tried to keep Tate behind me, but she yanked me back and quickly stepped in front.
Oh, Jesus. I rubbed my forehead and tried not to smile.
Nothing was funny here, but Tate continued to surprise me.
“Actually, we’re just waiting for you,” she said with mock happiness. “You know that video that came from Jared’s phone this morning? The one that everyone saw? He didn’t send it. His phone was stolen Saturday night. Would you know where it is?” Tate asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
The hall had gotten quiet, and everyone stood like they were on the outside of a boxing ring peering in.
“Why would I know where his phone is?” Piper sneered.
Tate held up her cell. “Oh, because….” She hit “redial”, and everyone heard my ringtone for Tate— Limp Bizkit’s Behind Blue Eyes—coming from Piper’s locker.
It was the ringer I’d put after she’d left for France—like she’d ever call—and I never changed it.
Tate flashed her screen to everyone, so they could see that it was my name on the screen of who she was dialing.
“This is your locker, Piper,” I pointed out, so everyone would know.
Tate was humiliated. The damage was done.
But it wasn’t a choice. Everyone had to know that I wasn’t responsible for hurting her like that. Not ever again.
“You know, I just love that song,” Tate teased. “Let’s hear it again.” She redialed, and people stood around, some waiting for a fight, while others whispered or nodded.
Walking up, I bent down into her face. “Open up your locker and give me my goddamn phone back, or we’ll get the Dean, and he’ll open the locker.”
Her lips pursed. “It was Nate’s idea!” She cracked and started defending herself.
The onlookers started laughing.
“You stupid bitch!” I heard Nate bark from somewhere in the crowd. “It was your idea.”
And I straightened my shoulders when he stepped forward.
Some people were born stupid.
I cocked my fist back and punched him across the nose, sending him down like a dead deer. He dropped to the floor, holding his bloody nose, and I hovered, ready for his ass to pop back up again.
Madoc pushed through the crowd, his eyeballs damn-near popping out of his head as he surveyed Nate on the floor.
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning his eyes on Tate.
I didn’t hear or see her respond, but Madoc shook his head and looked back down to Nate.
“How did you do it?” Tate asked Piper.
She didn’t respond.
“Your dad’s a cop, right?” Tate asked. “What’s his number?” She held up her phone like she was ready to dial. “Oh, yeah, 911.”
“Ugh, alright!” Piper screeched. “Nate took me to Homecoming and then to Tori’s party afterwards. When we saw you and Jared head upstairs, Nate took his camera phone and climbed onto the balcony. When he showed me the video later, I saw that Jared had left his phone on the dresser, so I snuck back into the room to take it.”
Son of a bitch.
“So the video came from Nate’s phone,” Tate confirmed but was looking at me. “It was transferred to Jared’s before it was texted.”
Our eyes were locked, and a mountain of relief descended on my shoulders.
“Get Jared’s phone, Piper. Now,” Madoc ordered, and I looked down at Nate who was trying to get up.
Once our eyes met, though, he seemed to reconsider when he laid back down.
Piper took a grueling minute to retrieve the phone, and then she threw it at Tate.
“We’re done,” she said cattily and waved her hand, dismissing Tate. “You may go.”
I had a hundred fucking names I wanted to call her, but it would be a waste of time. I was going to take care of this. Piper and Nate weren’t getting away with shit.
Just get Tate out of here.
But, of course, Tate had other plans.
“Piper?” she spoke calmly. “Do yourself a favor, and get some help. Jared is not yours, and he never will be. In fact, he won’t ever look at you again and see anything good, if he even saw anything good in the first place.”
Tate turned to me, but all of a sudden, Piper was yanking her by the hair!
And I stood there like a damn moron, not knowing which one to grab, because they were moving too fucking quickly.
Tate was slammed against the lockers. Piper tried to punch her. Tate ducked, and then smacked Piper across the face. Twice.
Shit.