Pretty Reckless (All Saints High #1)(75)

His jaw tick, tick, ticks, and I know he is losing his patience with me. We’re both in deep trouble now. Which is why I’m here. We need to stop Gus.

“He will not publish anything related to me,” Principal Prichard informs me, the picture of calm.

I blink, flabbergasted. “How do you know this?”

“I’m smarter than a cheerleader, for one thing. And so is he.”

I sit back, staring at a spot behind him, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know. Maybe I am stupid,” I bite out, “but so is Gus, and trust me, he will compromise your perverted ass.”

“Really!” he thunders, standing up and tossing the entire contents of his desk aside. I jump back in my chair. I’ve never seen him so angry before.

“What am I supposed to do? Threaten Miss Scully and Mr. Bauer? Just because you decided to spread your legs for the boy from the wrong side of the tracks even though I warned you not to?”

It’s my turn to stand, my fists balled beside my body as anger rolls off me, threatening to spill over.

“We’re in this together, and we have to think of something.”

“No. You’ll think of something. This doesn’t sound like a me problem. It’s a classic you problem.”

“Even if you get Gus to agree not to print out your pages, I’ll tell the world,” I warn.

He smirks darkly. “And? No one will believe you. You’re just another lost, spoiled brat who is hot for the principal. Don’t forget what happened here. You paraded your tits and bent over. I never had sex with you. I never touched you, skin-to-skin. I never even kissed you. It was. All. On. You.”

I’m floored. It feels like someone’s pulled the rug out from under my feet. But I’m working on autopilot because I can’t let him get away with this.

“Are you taking your chances, Gabe?” Gabe. I never call him by his first name. Only now, I have very little respect for him.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Leave, Miss Followhill, and do not come back unless it is with the recovered book to get punished until your behind turns blue.”

“As if I’ll ever get anywhere near you again.” I throw my head back and laugh with humor I don’t feel. “You were always jealous of Penn, who, by the way”—I pop my finger into my mouth and pull it out with a sound—“is a fantastic lay.”

“Daria…”

Prichard’s never called me by my first name, either.

“He was so good when he took my virginity. Not too long after you found us in the locker room, actually.”

“Stop it right now.” He rounds his desk toward me. Slowly. Predatorily.

“Of course, by then I was fully prepped for the—”

“Stop!” He produces his ruler from under his desk, pointing it at me. My smile broadens. I’m free-falling off a cliff with a faulty parachute. Might as well enjoy the ride.

“Having him inside me as I writhed and moaned and orgasmed so hard I nearly fainted—”

In one swift movement, he throws me against the wall, my stomach hitting the cold surface. He pushes my dress up and strikes me with the ruler so hard I’m seeing stars.

“Don’t!” I yell. “Don’t you dare touch me, you asshole. We’re done, Gabe.”

He tugs my hair and whispers into my ear, “We’re done when I say we’re done, Daria.”

Strike, strike, strike.

My ass cheeks are burning and so are my eyes. I’m too stunned to move, to run away, choking on the bile coating my throat.

My principal, my priest, the man who held all my secrets, who I thought I could trust, just whipped my ass with a ruler against my will. Not once. Not twice. About a dozen times in a frenzy I’ve never seen before.

When he stops, it seems as though the world is rocking back and forth on turbulent water. Seasick, I slide off the wall, my mouth hanging open, but I don’t really know what to say. Principal Prichard is not going to help me.

My war with Via and Gus is not only going to be fought alone, but I just found out they have a very powerful ally.

When I hear him take a step back, I turn around to face him.

What happened to you in that church?

I watch him through a curtain of tears, waiting for the apology. For the begging. For the remorse. Not just for what happened right now—I don’t think I even fully comprehend it—but for the past four years. I look down, and he is hard.

So hard.

So very hard.

How did I miss this? The proper, abused Catholic boy turned out to be an improper, abusing man. My butt feels so hot and sore I doubt I’ll be able to sit on it anytime soon. My legs are shaking, and my heart aches dully in my chest.

I lost everything in the span of a semester. I didn’t get the boy, or the happy ending, or the perfect family, or even to keep my status as queen bee or the cheer captain badge.

“You are my worst mistake,” I whisper to him.

He smiles devilishly.

“And you, my darling, are my favorite sin.”





The weight of my love for you

Buried me so deep

I can no longer sleep

Or eat

Or meet

My own eyes in the mirror





When the first domino falls and my reality collapses in quick fashion, everything hovers in the air, motionless for a fraction of a second. That’s the moment I suck in a breath, bracing myself for the hit.