Until You (Fall Away, #1.5)(59)

Tate wore lingerie.

Tate. Wore. Fucking. Lingerie!

What the hell for? And for who?

I ran a rough hand through my hair and felt the sweat on my forehead.

Fuck it.

Let her dad give her some money. That’s what every other teenager wants for their birthday, isn’t it?

I threw the book back into the drawer, stalked out of the room and down the stairs, and out the front door.

I don’t even remember driving to school.

The images of Tate wearing lingerie for some needledick asswipe were the only things I saw for a while.





My morning classes passed in a fog. I either sat there with my arms crossed and my eyes on my desk top, ignoring those around me. By fourth period, I gripped my desk, chair, or anything else to keep my ass from storming into her French class and picking a fight.

Teachers didn’t call on me, so I didn’t worry about paying attention. My grades stayed up, and I smarted off when they did ask me questions, so they ended up saving themselves the trouble of engaging me.

I took my time getting to lunch.

She would be there, and I didn’t want to sit back and watch us both try to ignore each other when I just wanted her next to me.

“Tatum Brandt!”

What the…?

I halted in the lunchroom at the sound of someone calling her name.

I had spied Sam and his friend Gunnar at our usual table, and I’d just gotten done grabbing a drink and sandwich when I’d heard a low voice yelling very loudly.

I zoned in on Madoc, facing away from me, f*cking kneeling in the middle of the room!

“Will you please go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he shouted, and when I followed where he was looking, I clenched my fingers, destroying the sandwich in my hand.

Shiiiit.

A very surprised Tate had turned around, her shoulders tensed and eyes avoiding everyone else’s like she was more annoyed than embarrassed.

Tate couldn’t stand Madoc.

Oh, what the hell was he doing now?

The packed cafeteria hushed to a silence.

Madoc walked on his knees up to Tate and took her hand.

A few giggles sounded around the room, and a push and pull force was battling in my limbs.

Move! He’s pursuing her. He’s always wanted her.

No, stay put. He’s your friend. He wouldn’t do that.

“Please, please! Don’t say no. I need you,” he yelled, more to the audience than Tate, and everyone erupted in laughs and cheers, egging him on.

“Please, let’s make this work. I’m sorry for everything,” he continued, and I could see Tate looking down at him, wide-eyed and flushed, like she was sick.

Sick and pissed.

She mumbled something to him I couldn’t hear, and then he shouted, “But the baby needs a father!”

WHAT. THE. FUCK?

My stomach dropped, and everything in the room turned red.

Tate’s face fell, and the crowd hollered their enjoyment of Madoc’s spectacle.

Her lips moved, but only just barely.

What the hell was she saying to him?

He seemed f*cking pleased, because he stood up and enveloped her in his arms, swinging her around to the delight of the audience.

Everyone whistled and applauded, and I threw my lunch in the trash without even looking.

She’d said yes?

I turned around and stalked out before he’d even put her down.





“Goddammit!” Madoc howled as his hand shot up to his face, and he crashed backwards to the row of lockers behind him.

We shared P.E. together, and I hadn’t even waited for him to make eye contact before I’d run up and clocked him right in the eye.

The class in the locker room got out of the way, and I stepped over the bench to sit down in front of my best friend who’d slid to the floor.

I rested my elbows on top of my knees and looked down at him.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, and it was the truth. “But you do know you’re pushing me, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, squinting with one hand over his eye.

He always pushed me, and it pissed me off, but I knew why he was doing it. He wanted me to act. To grovel at Tate’s feet and make her want me.

But she’d said yes.

That pissed me off, too.

Me not even thinking to ask her to the dance myself pissed me off.

I hated dances.

I hated dancing.

But thanks to me, Tate didn’t go to things like that in the past, and she obviously wanted to.

A bitter taste settled in my mouth.

It’s the taste you get right before your choke down a mouthful of pride.





“Hey, Dr. Porter.” I ran into my sophomore year Chemistry teacher in the hallway after school. “Is Tatum Brandt working in the lab today?” I gestured to the door behind him.

“Yes,” he blurted out, wide-eyed and looking oddly relieved to see me. “She is. But it just occurred to me that she’s alone. Are you free? Would you mind spotting her? I’m usually there, but I have a meeting.”

“Alone?” My jaw twitched with a pent-up smile. “No problem.”

He kept walking, and I opened the lab door, my heart already rushing with the promise of the kind of trouble I wanted to drown in.