Page 27 of The Devils They Are
"Well done on having basic knowledge, Hunter. I'm thrilled for your achievements."
Turning back to the desk, I try to ignore the footsteps as they get closer, until the asshole places his foot on my lower back.
Hell. No.
Spinning around, I launch to my feet, glaring at him. "Don't fucking touch me, Lannister, or I'll break your foot."
"I'd like to see you try,Duchess."
A moment of frustration overpowers me, and I shove my hands into his chest, sending him backwards. Immediately, his eyes darken. Two large steps toward me and I find myself torso to torso with Hunter Lannister.
"What's wrong?" I goad. "Don't like being touched?"
His jaw hardens as he stares daggers at me, but I just straighten up further, refusing to look away.
I slip my hand behind my back, squeezing the tube in my palm as I count to five in my head and calm the wave of emotions. He doesn't get to come in here and torment me—he and his father can go to Hell. This whole situation is their fault, and I'm not about to bend over backwards and let him intimidate me.
"You're worthless, Spencer. You'd be lucky to touch me."
Walking over to Smythson's desk, I drop the tube and sandpaper on it, dusting my hands. Hunter watches me carefully as I approach him again, narrowing his eyes.
"Is that a fact?" I ask casually.
He nods. "I wouldneverallow someone likeyouthe honor of touching me. You're not worth my time."
"And yet, here you are."
Hunter shoots me a wicked smile. "Just doing my civic duty to make sure you don't fuck up anything while unsupervised."
"Ahh," I say thoughtfully, nodding. "Does this count?"
My hands shove him again, but we've switched positions. Hunter stumbles back, this time catching himself on my little renovation project. He grips the side of the desk with one hand as he steadies himself, hovering over the top. I step forward, slamming my hands down on his upper thighs. The movement startles him for a moment, forcing him to put his weight on the desk to regain his balance. There's a small sense of satisfaction at my handiwork and repairs as the desk somehow doesn't buckle and collapse under his weight, before his hands quickly whip out and snap around my wrists painfully.
"I'll fucking end you," he hisses, squeezing so hard that my bones start screaming in pain.
But my face remains expressionless, unwilling to let him see that he's hurting me. That's what he wants, after all.
"You can try." I repeat his words back to him. "But I don't think you'll get veryfar."
Hunter goes to stand, to tower over me, except…
I can't help but laugh like an insane person at the sudden panic on his face.
Walking over to the corner of the room, I scoop up my bag from the floor, stopping at the teacher's desk. Picking up the tube of superglue again, I hold it up. "You know, I might just keep this. Seems to work really well."
"You fucking vicious bitch!" Hunter yells, the whole desk now an ass attachment. It's completely off the ground, the adhesive stuck to his black pants which has him stumbling to find a new center of gravity.
"That's right," I agree, swinging my bag over my shoulder. "And don't forget it. Good luck getting the desk off your pants. I'm sure Mrs. Smythson will give you a hand when she returns."
My laughter drowns out his curses as I head out the door. Because judging by the look on Hunter's face, Mrs. Smythson is now long gone for the day.
Now that we'd all but declared war, I decided it was time to bring in the cavalry.
Tuesday morning, I hunted down someone from Cedar to escort me to the field. Given it was before first period, I was surprised to find someone so easily—Millie.
She jumped at the chance to come on amission—her words, not mine.
We made sure to arrive early to the locker rooms, so I could change into my gym clothes and give my backpack to Mills to guard during first period.
