“Fuck you. Okay?” I glared at her an extra few seconds, then got to work.

Again, no one talked to me. I worked all period, not stopping for a second, trying to erase the image of Jake kissing Nicole, or whatever her name was, from my memory. He attracted such a type. I mean, what was he going to talk to her about? Where were they going to go on dates? I didn’t think about those questions too much. Jake had a certain reputation for a reason, and I could bet he’d start living up to it again really quickly.

By the time I left class, I was so pissed I could barely see straight. Jake caught my eye in the hall and winked, a mean, snide little gesture that made me hate him all over again.

Maybe I had orchestrated this entire disaster. Maybe this was all completely my fault. But I hadn’t rubbed it in his face.

Yet.

I sure could start. I went into our project period class. Jake came in after a minute and sat next to me. He could have changed seats. It might have been a little weird, but he could have done it, and he didn’t. Even at the peak of my hate, I still loved to be near him. And I loved the way he smelled.

I took all that love I had in me, all the love for the way his cologne clung to his skin, for how his long fingers held his pencil too tight, for how he frowned when he worked hard on a project, and held it tight for a minute, then dropped it hard and tried to let it go. Despite my best efforts to distance myself from him, I was happy to smell that it was the cologne I had picked up for him.

Desperate to stop thinking about his smile and his cologne and how I messed it all up, I turned to the hulking lug who sat at the table near us. I batted my lashes at him. I had his almost immediate attention. Jake glared.

“Hey, Matt? Do you have an eraser I can borrow?” I asked, and giggled. That’s right; I giggled like a mad woman.

“Sure. Yeah.” He fumbled in his bag for an eraser.

Then I winked! I winked right at him, and Jake looked like he was having a hard time keeping that smug smile on his lips. “Thanks, Matt. I owe you one!” I gushed, then went busily to work erasing things that didn’t need erasing because I had just asked to borrow an eraser, and now Jake was watching me.

“I had an eraser. If you needed one,” Jake said coldly, not lifting his eyes to look at me.

It was the first thing he had said to me since he’d ordered me to leave Zinga’s.

“I did need one. And Mattwas happy to lend it to me,” I said very slowly. “Thanks anyway, Jake.”

Jake scowled, then glanced at me from under his bunched brows. I wanted to smile meanly, but I didn’t.

“I like your shirt,” he muttered finally. Finally!

I felt a secret thrill of happiness that we were talking again. “It’s something I designed when I was five.” The one I wore today was the scene where the little girl in the fairy tale asked some sparrows for help defeating the witch. I loved her wooden clogs and the kerchief on her head. I had colored over them with pink marker when I was young, so it looked like she had a pink halo and glowing shoes. I kept the original babyish letters and scribbles, but also added typed ‘interpretations.’ I translated this one as saying, “Even though she’s a little girl, she’s brave and kind. She knows that the sparrows are smart and will help her. She knows who to trust.” I wondered what I had originally intended for it to say, but that’s what I saw when I looked at the illustration in the present.

“Really?” Jake asked, his voice finally soft and low and sweet.

“Yeah. The typing is mine from now, but the picture is something I worked over and colored on when I was just a little girl.”

He laughed and shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

“What?” I smiled a little to encourage him.

“Nothing.” He shook his head again, looking like he wanted to say something, but knew enough not to say it. That made me extra curious.

“What did you laugh about?” I refused to let the conversation drop.

He looked up at me, his eyes sharp. “You would have done something that amazing when you were five years old.” He shrugged. “Just typical Brenna,” he added sourly.

And everything nice he had implied was blown away with that last sentence and the sour clang of his words.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, my voice low enough to keep the teacher from coming over to investigate.

“That everything comes easy to you,” he accused, his gray eyes hot and angry.

“That’s a load of crap. I work my ass off for what I have.” My fury was so fierce I felt a rush of pure hate.

Jake shrugged his handsome, muscled shoulders.

I don’t think anything on earth could have made me more pissed off.

“What? You think I’m just lucky? Or you think I’m spoiled?”

He looked at me and shrugged again, and my blood boiled. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

The teacher gave a general command to everyone to get back on task, and I did, but I was so mad I could feel myself shake. Is this what Jake always thought of me? Did he ever respect what I did, or did he just see me as some spoiled girl with a silver spoon in her mouth? Had he said it to make me angry? Why had it worked so well? How much truth was there to his words?

Jake didn’t look up at me, though I couldn’t believe it was possible that my furious glares didn’t scorch his skin. I had never felt this kind of plain, drag-out hate. I hated Jake. For what he had said. For what he tried to make me feel. For what he wouldn’t say.

When the bell finally rang, Jake kicked his chair back and strode out of the classroom. Nikki was waiting to play tonsil hockey with him right outside the doorway. I pushed past hard enough to jostle them both.

“Watch it!” Nikki cried. “Bitch!

Jake and I locked eyes for a long moment, then I turned and rushed out, into the cold parking lot.

I burst out of the doors, and too late remembered that my bike was in Saxon’s trunk.

“Brenna!” Jake called. He had run out, no coat on, no sign of Nikki.

“What?” I bit out. “I’m not apologizing for bumping into you. You two should get a room. Or a truck,” I said snidely. But it hurt, to remember that the truck had been the place we had held each other such an incredibly short time ago.

“I just wanted…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to leave it. Like this.”

“Like what? Like two people who aren’t dating anymore?” I asked. “Because that’s why you’re wrapped around Nikki. Or whatever girl it is now.”

He stared at me and his mouth hung open. “What?” he yelled. “Are you serious? Youdumped me, Bren. Or did you forget? You called me from across a fucking ocean to tell me that you were busy throwing yourself at the worst guy you could find.” He pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell did you think I’d feel about that?”

“I had reasons,” I said, desperate to explain.

“To break my fucking heart?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.

I wanted to run into his arms. I wanted to take the last week back and erase it.

“I wanted to come and talk to you about it,” I said quietly. “Yesterday. I’ve been thinking a lot, and I think I know why I did it. And I’m sorry I hurt you, but I feel like I had to do it. So, if you want me to explain, maybe we could sometime, when you’re not busy with what’s her face.” My mom hated that expression; what’s her face. It sounded petty and mean, and that’s exactly how I felt about her.

“Bren, I don’t know,” Jake said, the pain raw on his face. “Maybe we can…”

And he stopped. I heard the roar of the engine that stopped him. His face lost its vulnerable pained look and hardened.

“Forget it.” He shook his head with disgust. “Your ride’s here, Bren.” Jake stalked back to the school, throwing the door open with a wild bang as he went back in.

It was completely unfair to hate Saxon as much as I hated him at that moment, but I hated him anyway.