Raphael
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All I can see is red.
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Gabe's checking out Zeke's shoulder while that little redneck bitch walks away without even looking back. There's still a knot of spectators whispering and giggling, fingers flying over their phones. I know without looking I'll have dozens of notifications when I check mine.
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Some of the braver ones have started gravitating towards us. Taylor Bennett is cooing over Zeke, flipping her long red hair and batting her eyelashes at him. Gabe looks at me, his grey eyes stormy, and I nod back. We've been best friends since Montessori school, words aren't necessary.
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Whoever this bitch is, she's going down.
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We make it to class, eventually, Zeke still muttering under his breath. His eyes light with unholy glee when he sees who's sitting at the back of the classroom, head down over her books like a good little girl. He makes a beeline for the empty seat next to her. Gabe and I take the two seats on her other side, hemming her in.
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She glances up, rolls her eyes, and goes back to her notes. I take my time studying her.
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She's not my type, obviously, but I have to admit she's cute. She's curvy in the classic pinup way, bouncy in all the right places. The braid of her dark hair brushes her hips, and her skin is clear and creamy with a sprinkle of golden freckles over her nose. She flicks her eyes towards me again, aggravation darkening their blue-green depths. She drops her gaze, her full lips tightening.
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I have a sudden flashback to the way my cousin- because of course the fucker would have to be my cousin- wrapped all that hair around his fist and pulled her head back to kiss her. The way she arched into him and just let him take what he wanted. I shift irritably in my seat. My phone pulses against my leg and I pull it out.
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Gabe's sent me a link, and I thumb it open. It's a video, taken in the parking lot, of little miss redneck putting Zeke on the ground. Someone tagged all three of us already, and I skim the comments, my molars grinding. I put my phone away and notice Zeke doing the same. A dull flush is creeping up his neck, then fades as he takes a deep breath and relaxes back into his chair. He taps his phone, and Gabe's buzzes when mine does. I open our group text to read his message.
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I'm going to fuck her entire world up.
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I'm not fooled. Underneath his golden boy looks and charming, carefree façade, Zeke's fucked up. I love him like a brother, but I'm not blind. I've seen what he does behind closed doors, when he drops the act and the real Ezekiel Stone comes out to play. If he's decided to destroy this girl, there's nowhere for her to hide.
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Gabe and I are just along for the ride.
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***
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We don't get a chance to talk until soccer practice. Zeke slams his bag into his locker, his icy blue eyes blazing with fury as he strips out of his uniform. Our teammates give us a wide berth, filtering out to the field. Zeke pushes his hands through his hair, then punches his locker closed.
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"What the fuck, man?" He smacked the locker again, fist meeting metal with a dull clang. "Who the fuck does that bitch think she is?"
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He rubs his shoulder thoughtfully. Gabe stands on my other side, arms folded over his chest. His gray eyes meet mine, full of concern.
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"I have no idea," I admit. "Fucking bitch is fast, though. You okay?"
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Zeke flexes his fingers, then shakes out his hand and shrugs, his anger stuffed back down into its cage. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Come on, we're already late."
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Not that it matters. We could blow off practice for the rest of the fall and no one would say a word. We're the Angels, and Sullivan Prep has belonged to us since the day we set foot on campus. No one defies us.
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Until now.
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I look at Zeke, his smiling mask back in place as we head out the door, and wonder what he's planning. Whatever it is, it won't be good.
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