Callie Reeves is a perfectionist. She has control over everything from her friends to her grades, the cheerleading squad she captains and anyone inbetween - even when it comes to dating.
After creating a list of rules to keep her no-strings attache...
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"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Vincent asks, twisting the matchbox between his fingers. "It might not work."
"Then whatever happens next is on her."
He shakes his head and pockets the matchbox, watching as I pace in front of the locker room door. "How are you going by the way?"
"How do you think?"
"Not great from the looks of you," he gives me a charming smile when I roll my eyes at his dry answer. "But, seriously?"
"I'm tired and stressed. We get our results back for the Chemistry project and he told me yesterday that he needed to see me this morning."
"Why you?" He furrows his eyebrows. "He normally just grumbles you were the highest scorer then moves on to praising Julian for being second."
"I have no idea which is why I barely slept last night. What if I did badly? I can't do badly on anything," I hear the pipes stop screaming, indicating the shower is no longer on inside the locker room. "I still haven't heard back about the next round for Valedictorian."
"You're doubting how smart you are, are you for real?" He shakes his head in disbelief, giving me a pointed stare. "You are freakishly smart. If you don't get this then something is seriously wrong with the administration board."
"Brennan!" I whip around hearing Coach Dennis's thundering voice at the other end of the hallway. He chases after Sam who is cradling his hand, occasionally flexing it and heading for the boys' locker room. "What the hell was that?"
My eyes focus on his hand, noting the blood across his knuckles and how red it appears to look. His hair is dripping with water and he only bothered to pull on tracksuit pants with a towel draped over one shoulder, his bag on the other.
Sam doesn't answer his coach as he hounds after him and barely spares me a second glance as he barges inside the locker room. I let out an exhale and rest my palm against the door, knowing I need to get inside and deal with this now.
I look back to Vincent who seems interested in the display. "Damn . . . I didn't think I'd ever see that."
"Can you find out what happened?" I bite my tongue to avoid adding on what I really mean. "Actually, just wait here. I won't be long."
I linger for a moment, tempted to eavesdrop but I can hear muffled echoes from next door. After realizing how much could be heard from either side, the school added extra padding or did something to lessen what was heard on either side.
Clearing my mind to focus on the task at hand I enter the locker room, heading four rows back where I know Faye will be. She's clipping on her bra when she spots me but doesn't seem too phased that I'm here. I keep my hands in the pockets of my jacket.
"We need to talk."
"You need to fuck off," she mutters, continuing to get dressed and barely acknowledges me. "I have nothing to say to you."
