Enemies To Endgame

CHAPTER 2:HIS BEST FRIEND

CHAPTER TWO

RILEY

That scumbag thinks he can intimidate me, but he messed with the wrong girl and he should be lucky I didn't even launch at him, otherwise he'd be with a broken nose right now and I'm not even kidding.

My scholarship was the only thing stopping me from dealing with that spoiled rich brat. I couldn't believe that I spent just a day here and I've already caused trouble.

But I dismissed the thoughts, reminding myself that it shouldn't matter. I walked through the halls, confidently strutting to my locker.

The pair of eyes peering through didn't meet me by surprise, but it was the loud whispers that got to me. These people really thought they knew how to be sleek and discreet.

I ignored their nosiness and made my way to my locker instead. I didn't even understand why they were so interested. They were just a group of boys. So what if their parents were filthy rich? Just had all that money only to raise punks.

I discarded the thoughts and opened my locker. Unexpectedly, spoiled milk exploded, splashing all over my body and face. My locker and body reeked badly.

The entire school had their phones up, and different murmurs were flying around. My eyes stung, but I refused to let a single tear slip out.

I angrily slammed the locker, staring back at the audience with their devices.

Is this the best he's got? Amateur.

I didn't say a word and made my way to the bathroom, washing everything off me. But my uniform reeked and was badly stained. So I got some clothes from the girls locker room and took a quick shower.

But once I was done, I couldn't find it. It almost felt like it had vanished or something.

“What the f**k?” I muttered under my breath.

I tried looking for it, checking every space and corner, but it was nowhere to be found and I was standing in my towel. And like things couldn't get worse, a group of female students burst in and started taking pictures.

My eyes stung, the tears were at the brim of falling. They all laughed, mocked and taunted me. I couldn't do anything, I just remained frozen to the ground.

“Omg! She looks pathetic.”

“Really captures her poverty stricken side.”

“Now you'd know never to mess with Dylan.”

Like a switch, I could suddenly feel my legs. I ran out of there, in my towel. Luckily, a teacher saw the commotion. They came up with a random excuse and the teacher just scolded them. She handed me a pair of shorts and shirt that belonged to the cheer leading squad.

I ached to call my mom, but I couldn't bear her seeing me in this situation so I chose to endure it all. If war was what he wanted, then he had it coming.

*****

It's been five days and the pranks didn't get any better, they got worse. I couldn't do anything because I wanted to protect my scholarship and I was afraid to report it, fear that they might turn the story against me. And rich kids have support, I have no one but my struggling mother.

I tried to overlook it, but it got hard to ignore. They posted pictures of me in a towel, on the brink of tears for the entire school to see. Dumped refuse in my school bag, destroyed my bike, glued me to a chair once.

And like that wasn't torture enough, Milly started giving me the cold shoulders after that day. I decided never to have friends again. I had my back and she didn't have mine.

Lunch became my daily nightmare. Every. Single. Day. I’d barely sit down, take one bite, and boom, some i***t would “trip” or “accidentally” elbow my tray and everything went flying.

Spaghetti on my lap, soup down my shirt, juice in my hair, you name it. Everyone would just lose it laughing, phones out, recording like I was their personal clown. By day four I stopped even getting food. I just sat there with my water bottle like a loser waiting for the next attack. And it always came.

I was done. I skipped lunch and went to hide in that gross west stairwell nobody uses. Sat on the steps, hugged my knees, and just stared at the wall trying not to cry. My eyes were burning but I kept blinking like crazy because no way was I giving them tears.

Door creaked open.

I thought it was Sophie or one of her minions coming to do something worse. But it was Logan Hart.

Dylan’s best friend. The tall one with the messy wet hair from swim practice, hoodie half-zipped, looking like he just rolled out of bed and still looked hot.

He stopped when he saw me. Just stared for like three full seconds. I probably looked like trash, eyes all red and puffy, uniform still crusty from yesterday’s soda incident.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

He didn’t say a word either. Just walked over, pulled his hoodie off in one move—had a t-shirt on underneath—thank God, and dropped it over my shoulders like it was no big deal. It was still warm from him and smelled like pool and that nice boy smell.

I looked up at him all teary. “You’re Dylan’s friend,” I mumbled, voice cracking.

He just looked at me for another second, then turned around and left. Didn’t say anything. Just walked out and left the hoodie on me. I sat there hugging it till the bell rang, totally confused.

School ended and of course it started pouring. Like actual cats and dogs. My umbrella got stolen days ago so I just started walking home getting soaked.

Halfway there, black Lamborghini rolls up real slow.

Dylan.

Window down, smirking. “Need a ride, princess? You look like a drowned rat.”

I didn’t even look at him. Just flipped him off and kept walking. He laughed and drove off.

Ten minutes later, another car. Logan’s old silver Jeep. He pulled up, leaned over, opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

I was freezing and too tired to fight. Climbed in dripping everywhere. He cranked the heat all the way up, grabbed a random towel from the back, and tossed it on my lap. Didn’t say anything.

Whole ride was just rain, wipers, and the heater blasting. Total silence. When we got to my apartment, I thought he’d just drop me and go. He handed me a towel.

He finally talked, voice kinda low.

“Tomorrow too, if you need it.”

I just stared at him, all wet and confused and still wearing his hoodie. He didn’t wait for me to answer. Just looked straight ahead like he already knew I’d be there.

I got out mumbling a tiny thanks.

He drove off. I stood in the rain hugging his hoodie, wondering why Dylan’s best friend was the only one being nice to me.

And why it kinda made me feel weird inside.