The Naughty List (The Naughty List #1)(60)

“Tessa Crimson,” a nurse called from the triage room. I turned to her and then nodded at Kira.

“Thanks, K,” I said, pulling back. I was glad that I still had someone.

“No prob, Tess. Just remember, a Smitten Kitten always lands on her feet.” She took my arm and helped me up, then followed me to the cubicle.

Despite being a game day, Friday was easily the second-worst day of my life. I had a Band-Aid on the side of my forehead, which was not at all cute. It wasn’t even pink. And I had a bruise on my jaw from where Chloe had punched me. Plus Christian the Creep had come to school, and Aiden was completely avoiding me. Like completely.

The one bright spot was that when I saw Chloe, she had a black eye and a small scratch on her cheek. It made me feel a little better.

The Smitten Kittens were all on edge, watching the crowds, keeping our ears to the ground. Christian would surely tell the school. If not, his sister wouldn’t miss the chance. But none of the guys did more than their usual gawking. No one even seemed to have heard about Aiden and me.

“I feel like we’re in the nose of the storm,” Kira leaned over to whisper to me during history class. “It’s eerie.”

“I think you mean the eye of the storm.” I took out my pen and drew hearts on my notebook, not looking at her. I was a mess. There was a purple, stitched welt on my forehead, my cheer skirt was wrinkled, and the paint on my toenails was chipped off. I hadn’t even bothered to tie my hair up. I was a poor excuse for a captain.

Kira sighed. “Tessa,” she said. “It’ll be okay. Aiden is still whipped cream; I know it.”

I shook my head. “He hates me.”

“Cut up the charge card because I’m not buying it,” she said, tickling my nose with the purple pom-pom on her pen.

Mr. Powell cleared his throat, and I glanced up at him in front of the class. I wondered if he knew—if my teacher somehow knew that my boyfriend had kicked me out of his room. But I was being paranoid.

I dropped my eyes and continued to draw on my notebook. Since I’d left Aiden’s last night, I’d become numb. Well, except for my forehead, which still throbbed.

Kira looked over her shoulder toward the back of the room and then leaned into me. “Do you think Christian is going to tell everyone about SOS?”

Her voice was shaky. I didn’t blame her for being nervous. Kira still cared about her social life, and she still wanted to date. If we were outed, both of those things would be crushed. But I didn’t give a rusty nail. At least about dating.

“I don’t know if he’ll tell,” I said, my voice low. “But Chloe probably will.”

Kira gasped. “She knows?”

“Ladies,” Mr. Powell interrupted. “Do you mind?”

Kira and I both looked up at him. “Sorry,” Kira said and smiled. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was completely and utterly without spirit. I just wanted class to be over. There was a slim chance Aiden would be at my locker, and there was an even slimmer chance that he might talk to me. After all, my mother had forgiven my father. Couldn’t Aiden forgive me?

After history, I had left Kira to walk the opposite way down the hall when someone touched my elbow. I swung around, startled.

“What the flip?” I said. It was Christian, looking haggard, exhausted. Jingle bells! This kid was hard to shake. “Please don’t talk to me,” I mumbled, turning away from him. I started walking again and he fell in step next to me.

“I want to apologize,” he said. My eyes felt heavy. So did my heart.

“Not accepted.”

“Tessa, please,” Christian said, grabbing my arm and swinging me around. I gasped. He was still not allowed to touch me.

“Get your hands off of me,” I hissed, trying to pull my arm away.

His face twisted, but instead of backing up, he yanked me closer. “But … you kissed me back, Tessa. You kissed me last night.”

He was desperate. The look on his face was absolutely desperate. I was nauseated by the reminder and the smell of spearmint that washed over my face. His hands had touched me yesterday. Ick. I pulled my arm out of his grip.

“Was it you?” I asked. Did I want the truth?

“Was what me?” Christian licked his lips, looking at mine. Gross! Dream on. His mouth would never touch me again.

“Did you send the text about Aiden and Chloe? Did you and your sister plan this whole thing?”

It only took a second for his cheeks to turn red. Carpal tunnel syndrome! That sneaky son of a biscuit. He’d sent a fake message. I’d been so stupid.

“Yes, but hear me out,” he said, reaching to touch my hand.

“Ew, no!” I pushed him backward, and a few people turned to look at us. We were quickly drawing a crowd. “It was you! All along it was you, orchestrating everything!” I was yelling. I was yelling at school and I wasn’t in the gymnasium. “I can’t believe how manipulative you’ve been. Oh, my word!”

Christian’s mouth hung open; he was probably shocked that I was screaming at him, embarrassed that everyone was watching us. But I wasn’t ready to stop there.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, self-consciously. “I just really liked you. I thought if you—”

“That’s not an excuse!” I pushed him backward again. He stumbled. “I’m so sick of you right now.” And I was. I looked him up and down, my purr transformed into a hiss. “I can’t believe your tongue was ever in my mouth!”