Checkmate

10| No I in Team

After a few minutes, I head to the basement for round two of the firing squad. About halfway down the stairs, I realize the others are talking about me and stop to hear what they're saying.

"All right, O'Hare," Freddie says, "give it to me straight. How long do we have to put up with this girl?"

Blake shrugs, playing with the joint in his hands but not smoking it. "We help her to win the campaign, she pays me, she leaves me alone. It's easy money."

Kenny scoffs. "There is nothing easy about working with that high-maintenance cheerleader."

"You guys are being harsh," Liv says, and I knew there was a reason I liked her. "She's just a little preppy. Better than being miserable like you guys."

Kenny audibly groans. "It's really not. You'd think she was campaigning to be the actual president she's so damn militant about it."

My cheeks burn hotter. I shouldn't care what a bunch of degenerates think about me, but their words hurt all the same. I move back a step, emitting a creak that makes their heads swivel. Blake's eyebrows knit as the rest of them fall silent. It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, but it's clear I've caught him off guard.

I turn on my heel, abandoning my campaign book, and head back upstairs. I make it to the door before someone grabs my arm. Blake is towering over me when I turn around, his palm still wrapped around my wrist.

"Wait," he says.

My skin begins to thrum beneath his fingers. "Why? So your friends can hate on me some more? No thanks." I start to leave, but he doesn't let go. Despite the fact I could easily break free, my arm stays trapped in his palm.

"They don't mean it," he says. "They're just giving you a hard time."

"Why? What did I ever do to them?"

"Come on, Rose," he says, and something runs through me at the way he says my name, "it's not every day the uptight mayor's daughter finds her way into our basement."

And that's how they see me, I realize. How everyone sees me. Vapid. Uptight. The mayor's daughter. Things I'm certain they'll have thought before too, but at least Chase acted as my buffer. Without him, I'm just unlikeable. "Well, don't worry. I'm about to make my way out."

"Just wait." He drops my wrist to rub his jaw. Clearly, he's torn between getting rid of me and keeping me around for his payday. "I told them to knock it off, all right? Let's just get this meeting done."

I stare at him for what feels like a long time. If it weren't for the fact that I desperately needed him, I'd have walked out of this nightmare long ago. "Fine, but just know that I don't like you, I don't like your friends – minus Liv – and the second this campaign is over, we're going to go back to denying the other's existence."

His eyes blacken, an amused slope to his mouth. "There she is."

"There who is?"

"Prickly Rose, my favorite kind." He turns and heads toward the basement before looking over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

I suppress the urge to scream and follow him down to the basement. He takes his seat, so I sit on the only available armchair and pick my campaign book off the table. "Right," I say, opening my book, "if you're done talking shit about me, we can get on with the rest of the meeting." Blake leans back in his chair and watches me. I suddenly feel hot as though his fingers are still pressed on my wrist. My favorite kind. I don't know what he meant by it, but every time I think of those words, I shiver. "I've been thinking about what affects all different kinds of people," I say, "and I've decided I'm going to focus my campaign on bullying."