Sweet Like Revenge

24 - Mutual Extraction

"He got them from the gas station, you know," a haughty voice muttered in my ear as I slammed the door of my locker shut.

The roses had just fit in my locker, an impracticality which Matt probably hadn't thought about when he had orchestrated his grand (and public) display of affection. I balanced them in one arm, and my books in the other, wondering how I was going to explain the former to Richie when he picked me up in ten minutes.

Chontelle sauntered around to the other side of me like a wolf circling prey. Of course, now I knew that her anger wasn't aimed at me, and that was slightly comforting. Still, it was difficult not to panic when someone that intimidating was staring you down as though she could ruin your life with one flick of her hair.

"They're not even fresh," she said, picking one of the pink petals and rubbing it between her fingers until it tore.

"That's okay." I shrugged. "It's the thought, I guess."

She shot me a seething glare as we walked down the hall and towards the building's exit. She opened her mouth, closed it, then let out a defiant sigh before she asked, "Did you really not remember?"

I contemplated lying to her. It came to me so easily now.

But there was still some information that I needed to be filled in on if I was to make any use of what I'd learned that weekend. And, given our mutual disdain for Matt, Chontelle was my best bet. Plus, she had helped me before.

"I remember," I said simply, shifting the weight of the flowers in my arms.

Her eyes rose to meet mine again, but this time they were narrowed like slits as she questioned my every word. "Everything?"

I shrugged, still opting to tell the truth. "Enough."

Chontelle hesitated for a moment, pursing her lips together thoughtfully as she considered her next words. Whatever they were, they didn't look good, and the nervous butterflies in my stomach hovered in anticipation.

"You told me that you guys didn't... do anything," she finally said. Her eyes found mine again, flittering back and forth as she searched my face for answers. "Do you remember that?"

I felt my back stiffen as my head snapped sideways to meet her gaze.

"That's the truth," I told her. "I know I was messed up, but I also know that nothing happened. I swear—"

"I know," Chontelle muttered, then bit her lip nervously as she rolled her eyes to the floor. "But before you got here this morning, out in the parking lot, Matt said—"

"He said we did," I realized.

Of course. All along, deep down, I had expected nothing more from him. It was my word against his.

"He did," Chontelle admitted. "At least, he tried to."

I turned back to her quickly, my eyes now the ones searching hers.

"Apparently there was someone else in the room," Chontelle rushed, sensing my anticipation. "He was knocked out himself, but your... argument woke him."

I frowned harder as I struggled to rack my fuzzy brain. The football player with the drawing on his face, I realized slowly. The one snoring above Matt's bunk.

"He wants to keep things fair, apparently," Chontelle spat sarcastically, her disgust as clear as day. "Whatever that means. You should have seen Matt's face when Jacob called him out."

"What a jerk," was all I could say, the image of Matt's sharp jawline and taunting eyes flashing in my mind, so clear compared to the rest of my jumbled memories from that night. He had been so smug, so arrogant. And so sure that I'd take his under-the-table deal. Like I'd really do anything to be popular.