Faking Perfection

12|All Yours

𝟙𝟚|𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤

Zane is looking downright incredible this morning.

I want to hate myself for thinking it, and I probably should, but I can't ignore it when someone is attractive. I can't disregard that snapback he's wearing backward today. I can't turn away from those gray sweatpants clinging to just the right places. He knows exactly what he's doing, and when he approaches me by my locker after lunch, he's got a cocky grin on his face.

"Hey, sexy," he drawls, dragging his eyes up my body. "Should I be expecting you to come over after school?"

God, I shouldn't. I really shouldn't. Not after Mason and I's text conversation this past weekend. But Mason made it clear he won't give me what I'm looking for until I choose him and him only. It's a fair enough request, but It's one I know I'm not capable of yet. Not when I've been eyeing Zane's dick in these sweatpants all morning.

Zane tugs me against his chest and rakes his hand up underneath my skirt, right in front of everyone to see. He doesn't care who's watching as he squeezes gently and scrapes his teeth against my earlobe.

"I'll see if I can make it," I tease.

"Good." He pulls out his phone when it starts to ring, clicking ignore before he shoves it back into his pocket. "I haven't seen you much." It's not an accusation, but it's a question. One I'm not sure how to answer.

"I've been studying a lot," I admit, which isn't a lie. The results of our History tests will be released to us tomorrow, and I'm scared shitless.

He arches a brow. "Right. All that studying you do with Mason."

"You have a problem with him?"

He shrugs. "Trust me, I'm not threatened at all, I just—" His phone rings again, but he presses ignore for the second time. "I just haven't been seeing you as much, and I have needs, Izzy."

I bite back a laugh. I'm not sure why I thought Zane might be catching feelings, or even jealous. Our relationship has never been like that. But with him saying that it makes me feel sleazy, like I'm just an object for him to use and discard.

Isn't that what you are, though?

Zane's brown eyes narrow like he's trying to decipher my thoughts. "Look, all I'm saying is that we had a deal, right? We can't fuck anyone else because we're fucking each other, but when you stop giving it up, then—"

His phone rings again, and I want to ask who the fuck needs to get in touch with him so badly until I hear Everett say from behind us, "I would get that if I were you." His tone is icy, calculated, a death sentence. He must have overheard the last thing Zane said.

Zane twists his head to eye Everett, but he has to glance up at him. My brother hit a growth spurt before the start of freshman year, and the basketball coach has been begging him to join the varsity team, but he refuses. Everett may not be built, but the coldness in his stare is enough for most grown men to run for the hills.

"Yeah," Zane agrees and answers his phone before my brother can knock his teeth out, disappearing down another hallway.

"Why the fuck are you putting up with that?" Everett asks. "He's a fucking tool."

I shrug and gather my textbooks for my next class, but when I turn back to face my brother, I spot Mason at his own locker down the hall talking to a girl I've never seen before.

The punch to my gut was a sensation I wasn't expecting. I've seen Zane speak to and kiss many females, but I've never felt the need to rip their fucking throats out. It's the same sensation I got when that girl came up to Mason at the first party I took him to—when she dared to run her fingers through his hair.