Cookie

8

Logan walks into class wearing a pair of blue jeans and—without a doubt—the most hideous shirt I’ve ever seen on a guy. My eyes instantly water from laughing so hard, and Mary smacks my arm in protest, though it does nothing to stop me.

His ridiculous tank top is designed to look like the middle of a hamburger—the straps and bottom are the bun, the first layer is meat, then cheese, followed by two more identical layers. The whole thing is topped with a crispy bacon pattern. As if the outfit wasn't bad enough, his neck and shoulders are covered in even more hickeys than Mary’s. Small bite marks dot his skin, instantly drawing all the attention away from her and onto him. He’s completely stolen her thunder.

"Not a word!" Logan snaps, glaring at me.

I bite my lip, trying to stifle my laughter, but it’s impossible. It’s just too funny.

"Stop laughing, Twinkle!" Mary huffs, using her favorite nickname for me. "Don’t forget this is all your fault, okay? If you keep laughing, I might just tell everyone about your little late-night conversation with the devil himself."

At her words, my stomach tightens with nerves, and a cold shiver runs down my spine.

"Don’t," I whisper. "Please, don’t. I’m sorry."

Logan smirks, draping an arm around my shoulders. "Relax. We won’t say a word," he assures me. "You can trust us—we’re friends, aren’t we?"

I nod, smiling slightly.

"Perfect," he says. "Now, you’re going to help us get back at him."

My smile vanishes instantly, but before I can respond, I see Liam walk into the classroom. He heads straight toward us, dressed in black jeans and a gray t-shirt that simply says fuck off. His black curly hair is a mess, but somehow it makes him look even hotter—not that I care.

I sit in the front row next to Mary, with Logan taking the seat behind her, leaving the one behind me empty. That’s exactly where Liam sits. His presence is overwhelming—his cologne, the heat radiating off him, the sound of his breath so close—but he doesn’t even glance in my direction. It’s like I don’t exist. Like we didn’t just spend three hours talking last night.

And that’s okay, I tell myself. This is exactly what I asked for. At least Tiffany won’t suspect anything. But still… it would’ve been nice if he’d at least acknowledged me.

"You look delicious, bro," Logan drawls, clearly enjoying himself.

Liam responds with a husky, sleepy chuckle, one that makes my whole body tense. I force myself to keep my gaze forward, resisting the urge to turn around and look at him.

Before I can process anything else, a blonde girl in a very short dress struts up to us, her hips swaying as if she’s walking a runway. Just as I prepare to greet her, Liam's chair scrapes against the floor, and the next thing I know, she’s draped over him.

Then they’re kissing.

One of her legs wraps around his waist, and his hands are gripping her ass like they’re the only thing keeping her from floating away. Her tiny dress hikes up dangerously high, exposing lace underwear, and she lets out a sound that’s meant to be sexy but just… isn't. The wet noises of their kiss fill the air, and I feel my stomach twist violently.

I look away, forcing myself to swallow the lump in my throat. You have no right to feel this way, I scold myself. He told you he just wants to be friends. He never said anything that would make you think otherwise.

Still, it stings.

He’s surrounded by girls like her—confident, experienced, beautiful. And I? I’m just some damaged girl who doesn’t even know how to fight back when people are mean to her.

"Are you okay?" Mary asks, her hand resting gently on my leg.

I snap my head toward her, plastering on a fake smile. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

She doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go.

"Girls’ bathroom. Second floor," she says, her voice taking on a mischievous edge. "Next period."

Then she walks off, and I can’t help but stare at her swaying hips. If I can’t stop looking, I don’t know how Liam could possibly resist her.

---

The rest of the class drags on, but I don’t hear a word the teacher says. I’m too busy convincing myself I don’t care, that I shouldn’t care.

By the time the bell rings, I’ve nearly convinced myself. Nearly.

I watch Liam rush out the door, hitting the doorframe in his hurry, and I can’t help but laugh a little. Friends are happy for their friends, right? I’m happy for him.

---

Lunchtime finally arrives, and I’m exhausted. But as I step into the cafeteria, a small smile creeps onto my face. Today, our table will be a little more crowded.

I spot Liam a few tables away, eating with a group of guys I don’t know, a brunette perched on his lap. Ignore it, I tell myself. I scan the room and find Alicia, waving her over.

"Guys, this is Alicia," I say as we approach the table where Mary and Logan are already eating. "She’s in my computer science class."

"Nice to meet you," Alicia says, smiling warmly.

Mary groans dramatically. "This day is never-ending. One more class, guys. One more class, and I can go home and pretend this never happened."

"That bad?" Alicia asks.

"Bad? Girl, my teachers yelled at me all morning, guys keep making rude comments, girls have called me a bitch at least five times, and I nearly had a heart attack when I ran into Mr. Milles. I swear I thought the dinosaur was going to expel me."

I widen my eyes, shaking my head at Mary, but she ignores me. I should’ve mentioned that the principal is Alicia’s father.

Instead of being offended, Alicia bursts out laughing. "Dinosaur? That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has ever called my dad."

Mary’s face turns pale as a ghost, and she slowly turns to me, giving me an are you serious look. I just smile and shrug.

"Don’t worry," Alicia reassures her. "Seriously, everyone avoids me because they think I’m some kind of snitch, but I promise I won’t tell. My dad is annoying, though. Imagine having to deal with him at home too."

Mary relaxes, and we spend the rest of lunch talking, laughing, and, for the first time in a long time, I feel... normal.

Until I stand up.

I bump into someone—a senior, I think his name is Cavin? I remember he’s on the soccer team. And friends with Tiffany.

I quickly step back. "Sorry," I mumble, expecting him to throw his coffee on me or do something equally awful.

Instead, he grabs me.

His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him, his fingers digging into my ass. My breath catches in my throat.

"You’ve got a killer ass, rat face," he murmurs. "Do you have tits too?"

The cafeteria falls silent.

Then, suddenly, Cavin’s hands are ripped off me, and I’m shoved back—straight into Mary’s arms.

And then I hear it.

The sound of a fist colliding with flesh.

I turn just in time to see Cavin hitting the ground, and Liam on top of him, punching him over and over again.