The Heir

Chapter 9 - Damian

Samaira's dad was a bit of a helicopter parent and he was also getting on my nerves. Everyday since the car incident he has been texting me asking about her well being. I get it, he's worried about her. But this is too much. No wonder she's always running away and causing problems. I would too if my father treated me like I was this fragile.

I scowled at my phone as the sixth text of the day rolled in. It wasn't even second period yet. The screen lit up with the same familiar message, the words blending into a monotonous blur. "Is Samaira okay? Did she seem upset? Let me know if she needs anything." The incessant ding of my phone felt like an itch I couldn't scratch. The more I tried to ignore it, the more it got under my skin. Samaira leaned over from her desk and looked at my phone. She rolled her eyes once she saw who was messaging me.

"I told you not to give him your number. He is always worrying about me." She said, twirling her pen in her hand.

"It felt like the right thing to do at the time." I muttered annoyed. She pulled her phone and her fingers started flying across the screen. "Who are you texting?"

"My dad. I'm telling him to leave you alone," she said matter-of-factly.

Before she could send the message, I quickly snatched her phone out of her hand. "Hey! What the hell?" she protested.

"Don't tell him that! He'll think I've been complaining about him, and I'd rather not give him a reason to hate me," I kept her phone far out of her reach. She kept stretching to try and reach it but I had about a foot on her so my arm span was much longer than hers. She huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Why do you even care if he likes you?" She said dripping in annoyance.

Because one day I'll need his approval. I shook that thought out of my head, "Don't text him Samaira."

"Fine." She huffed. "Just give me my phone."

I tossed her phone back to her and watched as she begrudgingly deleted the text. "Happy now?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Very," I replied with a smirk.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath.

"Shut up, class is starting," I said, cutting off any further argument.

The morning passed uneventfully, but at lunch, things took an unexpected turn. We were sitting at our usual table when Stella sauntered over, her eyes locked on me with that familiar, unwelcome gleam.

"Why was she at your place Damian?" Stella asked with a sneer.

"Fuck off Stella, I'm his friend I'm allowed to hang out at his house." Samaira said, filled with hatred. I was going to ignore them and enjoy my sandwich but then something Stella said clicked in my brain.

"How did you know she was at my house?" I dropped my food and stared blankly at Stella.

Stella put on a nasty smirk and pointed at Samaira, "She posted you on her story. Tried to make it seem like she was in your bedroom and like she's been there before." Of course Samaira did that, probably to rile up Stella. I shot a look at Samaira, who was avoiding eye contact. Why did I put up with her?

"She was in my room, and she had been there before." I said, still glaring at the side of Samaira's head.

Stella faltered, but then she spoke up again. "Okay but did you have to walk her home and sneak off in an alley with her?" Both of our heads snapped towards hers in shock. She looked taken aback with our reaction.

The only people who knew what happened to me and Samaira after she left my house were our families and the police.

"Who told you that?" I demanded.