As he pulls his lips away from mine, I grin up at him. “I’ll see you later,” I tell him before gently pressing my lips to his once more and scooting off his lap.
He slaps my ass as I walk away and I look across at Elle while I make a show of fixing up my lip gloss. Her face is practically glowing from anger and I realize without a seed of doubt in my mind that after going against Elle’s warning, I’ve just declared war on the cheerleaders, though, I don’t really care. I’ll make out with whoever the hell I want to make out with, school politics be damned.
Tora Roberts does not bend to the will of cheerleaders.
As I fall back down into my seat, Brooke nudges me in the ribs. “That was a dangerous move,” she warns me.
“I know,” I laugh. “But it was so worth it to see her face.”
I reach for my drink bottle and tip my head back to take a drink which is when I feel it. The familiar stare of Nate Ryder. I let out a breath and turn around, and right there, making his way out of the cafeteria with his group of followers is Nate with his dark eyes piercing into mine. Knowing that he’s just watched my little performance pulls something within me, though I don’t know why and that fact alone pisses me off.
I shake the thought from my head and pay attention to my girls. Before I know it, the end of lunch bell is ringing and we’re piling out of the cafeteria to head to our afternoon classes.
Two hours later, I meet Brooke by her car and we get out asses out of there. It’s been a long day and I am so not in the mood to deal with any more cheerleaders, jocks, or bad boys.
We get home and as usual, Brooke makes herself welcome as we flick on the music in my room and spend our afternoon immersed in our own world. Brooke with her phone and me with my Kindle.
Chapter 4
I sit back on my couch with my feet up and flick through the movie channels. It’s Thursday night and Brooke has just disappeared for the night after her mother called a billion times, requesting that she get her ass home for dinner.
With no movies that I’m in the mood for, I find the latest ‘Game of Thrones’ episode and flick it on before grabbing the blanket over the back of the couch and pulling it down over me.
I completely stretch out.
This is the life. No parents. No one telling me what I should be doing. Everything is on my own schedule. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but having this little slice of freedom has been great.
A noise at the front door has me flying to my feet. What the hell was that? More importantly, who the hell was that? I flick the TV off as I hear someone walking through my house and find myself cowering in the corner of the room and sticking my head out to see.
Shit. My heart races as a stranger walks through my home. Maybe I’m not ready to be left on my own. I mean, why the hell didn’t the security system pick up on the fact the someone was either coming through the gate or jumping it?
Fuck.
“Where the fuck are you?” I hear the familiar voice call out in annoyance.
My mouth drops open. That couldn’t be Nate, right?
I wait a little longer, waiting and watching until he steps into my line of vision.
I see red.
I storm out of my hiding spot and find him walking through the kitchen as anger bubbles up inside me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing breaking into my house?” I demand as I get right up in front of him.
He watches me as though I’m some kind of irritating rodent. “What crawled up your ass?” he grunts with that annoying smirk on his face.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“Take a fucking chill pill,” he says. “Mom sent me to check on you. Believe me, if I could, I’d be anywhere else but here.”
“Right, that’s great,” I smile. “You’ve checked and now you can get your ass out of here,” I tell him before turning my back and walking away. “Tell her I’m fine.”
The sound of the fridge opening has me stopping in my tracks. “Ah… what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He searches through the fridge, but I don’t know what he’s looking for. There’s absolutely nothing in it. Well, nothing worth eating.
“What did you have for dinner?” he questions with a grunt.
“How is that any of your business?” I ask as I prop my hand on my hip.
He closes the fridge and turns to face me with his dark eyes piercing into me. “Answer the damn question, Tori,” he demands. “Or are you not eating again? You know, I’ve watched you throw out your lunch every day this week.”