Who Did This

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No amount of my hair curtain can block Gabe's stare.

He took one look at me when he entered Mrs. Anderson's class and stumbled to a stop. He didn't approach me as class had already started—guess he left after his fight and came back—but I think he wanted to.

The snickers around me also quieted the moment he dropped his bag loudly on his desk. If only he knew his attempt at getting people off my back started this whole mess.

Mrs. Anderson claps her hands and raises her annoying voice, "Pair up now and get to work."

I don't even know what the fuck we're supposed to be doing, but I hate when we can pick our own partners. No one will—

"I'm your partner." Gabe glares at the girl sitting beside me and takes her seat the second she scurries off.

"No thanks." I have a headache the size of his delicious ass. Right now I want to move twenty towns over—not be partners with the guy who's utterly messed up my mind. And my face.

"Too bad." He scoots his desk close and moves my hair from hiding my face. "Who did this to you?"

"I fell." I jerk away from his touch. Of all the fantasies I've had about him, having him see my sarcastic ass beat to shit was not one of them.

He growls, moving my hair again to give me one of his infamous glares. "Colette, fucking tell me."

"How the fuck should I know?" I shove his hand but don't try to hide again. I let him see. He might as well since he's part of the reason for it. "I was yanked by my hair to the fucking floor, dragged like a bad dog, threatened by a damn Amazon, then blinded with someone's fucking soda—which burns like a bitch, by the way—and then kicked when I couldn't see shit. So, like I said, how the fuck should I know?"

His blank expression is all I get. He keeps staring, not showing if he's angry about what's happened to me or if he's upset with how I'm talking to him.

"Do you know what the assignment is?" I check the board for clues but my stupid vision blurs because, yay, my eye and nose are starting to swell.

"Why won't you tell me?" He sounds bored, but I can tell it's not his usual boredom.

Don't get excited, girl. He's curious like anyone would be.

After all, River's brutal words could be true. There has never been a girl that Gabe has made more than a fuck buddy. The fact I haven't been with him should show me I mean nothing. "I'm sure you already know. Surely your fan club has videos or pictures to laugh at."

"Do they?"

I scoff. "I was blind, remember?"

"But you know who pulled you. Who was it? Becca?"

"No." I touch my nose and wince.

"Don't poke it." His strong hand engulfs mine, pinning it to the desk.

Oh . . . .

Fucking hell, Colette. This is not the time to have that fantasy.

He grips my chin, turning my face to inspect me. "Whoever she was, she fucked you up."

"Duh." I want to slap myself for being a stupid girl who's more focused on my fear of looking my worst instead of yelling at him to go fix this. Because I might've started the fire, but he went and threw gasoline on it. Yes, I'm going to ignore that I fanned the flames with Heather. She's a fart-blaming bully and a twat who attacks from behind.

"Finally some sass." He lets go of my chin and my hand. My dumb ass almost whimpers from the loss of his touch. "Might as well tell me—I'm going to find out."

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