Ransom smirks, freeing himself from his sweats and pushing my shorts aside, the head of his hard-on teasing my entrance.

“You shouldn’t have let me fuck you.”

I push into him, sucking in his tip and trying for more of his length. “Why not?” I pant.

“Because I don’t see how I can ever stop.” He stares at me, right into my eyes.

My sharp ache hits my ribs, twisting and tightening my lungs, but it’s confusing because my mind is full of him.

He said he can’t stop, but it’s only the end of October.

We have time for this.

For us.

My palms plant on his chest, wrapping around his back, and I pull him to me, whispering against his lips, “So don’t.”

Closing the door behind him, Ransom reaches over, lifting his backpack and my bag from the back seat, but when I reach out for it, he glares and hooks it over his arm.

Grinning. Face forward, we head toward the school. With Arsen and Beretta at our sides, we climb the first steps, where Scott, Dax, and a few others stand, chatting. Amy and Sammie among them.

I wait for Ransom to grow stiff at my side, but he doesn’t, not even when their heads do a double take as they notice we’re approaching.

Amy is trying to keep from frowning, but a smirk plays on her face, as if she’s still winning—as if this is a contest—since she had him alone and assumes I haven’t.

Sure, she screwed him once where no one could see, but there’s a difference.

She never had him; she merely fucked him.

I’ve had him twice and I have him now.

Ransom chooses the moment we are but two steps from passing them to slip his hand into mine, pull it to his lips and bite at my knuckles.

I couldn’t hold my grin in if I tried, and I don’t care to.

I do meet Amy’s eyes, and I could laugh at the wide, sheer shock in them.

I lift my hand, waving with my fingers like a spiteful bitch, but I don’t care.

Yesterday, I made a choice in front of everyone, my place in their world, my world, or another.

I chose them.

I chose him.

The thing about spoiled, holier-than-thou teenagers is they never acknowledge a loss for what it is, but pretend the situation, whatever it may be, is the one they favor.

The boys and I have become invisible, or so the others wish us to believe, when it’s obvious they stare from the corners of their eyes, continuing to do so as the day goes on.