Is that what everyone in school thinks of me? Raph’s latest slam piece? I don’t usually give a crap about what other people think, but I can’t deny that the label stings. More so than the outcast label he’d slapped on me that first day I walked on campus. In fact, I’d trade this label for that one in a heartbeat.
I realize how na?ve I’ve been. As much as I try to deny it, I like Raph’s public displays of affection, the unabashed way he stops to kiss me in the middle of a crowded hallway or in the cafeteria, not caring who’s looking. I thought it was his way of showing everyone that he doesn’t care who knows about us. But all its showing people is that I’m Raph’s latest piece on the side in what is a sickeningly long line of girls. Of course, everyone here knows that Raph is still betrothed to Layla and that any other girl is just his entertainment on the side. But she’s his queen. Always has been, always will be.
I tell myself to calm down, though, because I’m jumping to conclusions here. I remind myself of those moments when Raph and I are alone and he’s looking at me as if … as if I’m the only person in the entire universe that matters. I remind myself of the way he kisses me, that tells me there’s so much more to this thing between us than just lust. If that’s all he wants from me, he wouldn’t be waiting until I’m ready to have sex, he’d have made that move already and no matter how much I try to deny it, I know deep down that I’m in so deep with him, that I would have let him. Hell, I offered it to him on a plate just a couple of days ago and still he wants to wait.
But the doubts don’t disappear entirely, because I also still remember what Raph told me before our first kiss—that none of this could ever really matter. With all that has happened since, the passion burning away my reason, the hunger blinding me to reality, I seem to have forgotten the cold hard truth, or at least shoved it aside whenever it reared its ugly head, like I’m trying to do right this very minute.
I’m saved from having to say anything because I feel Raph’s presence behind me. He fixes that icy glare on Devon, the one that he fixed on me that very first day on the beach, the one that reminds me what we were to each other back then and perhaps what we should have kept being, if either of us had any sense.
“Hey, Raph.”
“Devon,” Raph replies coolly.
Devon gets the message.
“See you, Jaz,” he says, as he begins backing away. “Take care of yourself,” he says again, referring back to what he said earlier. He doesn’t have to. The words are emblazoned in my mind.
But I don’t let any of those insecurities show in my face as I turn to Raph. I stiffen a little when he kisses me lightly. But thankfully, not enough for Raph to sense that something’s wrong.
“What did Devon want?” he asks, point blank. His possessiveness would be endearing, if it wasn’t for the fact that Devon’s earlier words are still ringing in my mind. Four words in particular—Raph’s latest slam piece.
“Nothing. He just wanted to catch up,” I reply casually.
Some part of me wants to confront him right here and now about this latest label. But another part of me is telling me that I shouldn’t care what other people think of what’s happening between us, as long as Raph and I know the truth about what we are to each other. And what is that exactly? The cruel voice in the back of my mind whispers. But I shove it aside because the middle of a school hallway is not the time and the place to be having this conversation.
“So what, you two are best friends now?” Raph, however, doesn’t seem to be so concerned about causing a scene.
It’s not the first time Raph’s acted jealous. Hell, he starts growling at Baron like a caveman whenever he finds us hanging out together in the kitchen some mornings. As much as I try to deny it, I usually like the feeling that he cares enough to get jealous. But right now, it just pisses me off. Because who the hell is he to get jealous when the list of girls that he’s been with is probably longer than Santa’s freaking Christmas list and I’ve only ever been with one guy—him. Only him. Plus, there’s the fact that he’s still betrothed. As in promised to marry someone else.
This time, I can’t keep the frown from my face, but Raph interprets it as me being pissed about his cave man ways.
He lets out a long breath.
“Sorry, Jaz. You know I can’t think straight whenever any other asshole gets within two feet of you.”
He pulls a face of exaggerated repentance, which makes me laugh, despite my mood. God, I must be demented.
“So, you’re the only asshole who gets to come near me?” I keep my tone light, but the words aren’t exactly a joke.
“Hell, yes,” he replies, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we walk out of the main building. “Because I’m your asshole.”
I don’t want those words to mean anything, but I’m stupid and foolish, so they do. I still haven’t forgotten about Devon’s words. I know that Raph and I are going to need to have this conversation, but that same foolish part of me delays the inevitable.
And as he leans down to touch his lips against mine again, I don’t feel like talking at all.
“And you’re mine, Jaz,” he murmurs against my lips. “All mine.”
The words wrap themselves around me and just for that moment, I let myself believe it.
I’m rummaging in the fridge for a snack when I hear the front doors open. The guys all have an end of semester soccer meeting, so I expect to see Keller or Ivy walk in. Layla has a useful knack of avoiding me when I’m downstairs, although I don’t miss her death stares at school.
Unfortunately, Layla’s avoidance tactic doesn’t seem to be working today, because it’s she who walks in through those doors.
But when she fixes her eyes on me from across the reception hall, I get the feeling that this run-in is a very deliberate one.
I school my face blank and ignore her completely as I close the fridge door. Suddenly, I’m not so hungry. But before I can make a beeline for the stairs, Layla intercepts me.
“How’s it going, Jazmine?” she asks.
I blink in surprise, because this girl hasn’t said a single civil word to me since I arrived in Eden and now she’s asking me how I’m doing? Bizarre is an understatement.
“Fine,” I reply evenly. But I narrow my eyes in suspicion, because I’m not convinced by her seemingly neutral manner. Not convinced at all.
And I’m right not to be, because from her next words, it’s apparent that her claws are definitely still out.
“Fine? I would’ve thought you’d be more than fine. I mean with all that time that Raph’s been spending in your bed … a slut like you must be having the time of her life.”
I picture myself pulling chunks of golden hair out of her pretty little head and gouging those pretty green eyes out, but I stop myself. She isn’t worth it.
I’ve been expecting this confrontation since that night of the Fall Ball. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. Layla must be losing her touch. Whatever. I don’t have time for it.
I let out a sigh and move to step past her. She doesn’t let me go that easily.