Pretty Cruel Things: A High School Bully Romance (Edgewood Academy Book 2) by J.S. Madden

Author:J.S. Madden [Madden, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Bullshit. This was bullshit.

I’d only started to talk to Isla because Sophie had made me, and now I had to go back to basics and pretend it was all a game because, once again, Sophie was making me. I kicked at a loose pebble as I paced up and down in the woods. The fury inside of me was paramount. If I’d stumbled past someone who even looked at me the wrong way, no doubt I’d attack them. But really the only person I wanted to hurt was the one person I couldn’t. And that was what was pissing me off the most.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, a text chimed on my phone.

Sophie: All systems go. Isla will meet you in the car park. Lantern lighting starts at 7. Sorry about earlier, but I meant every word I said. No one loves you like I love you anyway, Luc.

Not if I never gave anyone the chance.

I took a few moments to control myself and try to slide back into my usual blasé façade. I still had a job to do. Continue to get Isla to fall for me while keeping a distance from her.

Piece of fucking cake.

With one last deep breath, I took off to the car park where Isla was already waiting. When she saw me, her face lit up, and although my insides instantly warmed at the sight of her, I kept a blank expression as I walked.

“You ready?” I asked.

She nodded.

I led her towards my car, and her eyes bugged. This was what tended to happen when people saw the car Sophie and I shared. People thought Sophie and I were so lucky. If only they knew. The car was convenient to get away, but I wouldn’t have cared what make or model it was.

I opened the car with a click of a button and left Isla to open her own door. She didn’t seem surprised, which, in a way, made me feel worse. She’d come to expect I’d be the ultimate prick. Should make this a little easier, then.

“This is nice,” Isla said, gesturing to the car as I started the engine.

“Four wheels and an engine. That’s all it is.”

“Stop being so modest. It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful isn’t an expensive heap on wheels, Rose. It’s a child taking its first breath. It’s beating cancer. It’s the world spinning and nerve endings that spark from touch alone. This, this is hush money.”

“You can be really poetic,” she said.

I steered the car out of the school grounds and onto the long road that led into town. I certainly hadn’t expected her to respond that way. Maybe call me out for my bluntness, but definitely not praise me for it. “I’m not trying to be poetic.”

“Are you sad?” she asked.

“About what?”

“Jessica.”

I snorted. “No.”

“What?”

“You asked me if I was sad, and I said no. What didn’t you understand about what I said? We could try conversing in French, if you’d like. Non, mademoiselle. Je ne suis pas triste.

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