Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance by Lindsey Iler (free ebook reader for iphone .TXT) 📕

“I have no say in this, then? Those two get to set up some wicked game, play games, for what?” I realize my voice has risen, and I’m gaining an audience.

Marek softly grabs my arm and ushers me into the shadows, with Palmer following us. “This is for you, but more importantly, it’s for the two of them.”

“This is so fucked up, Marek. You know that, right?” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to convince my nerves to slow down. My skin crawls at the very idea of a gauntlet. “Can you let me go, please?”

His eyes widen when he realizes his hand is wrapped around my forearm. “Sorry, but you need to realize that no matter what you say, this is happening. I don’t like it just as much as you.”

“So, convince them not to do it,” I say.

“Convince Breaker not to fight for you and prove he’s not afraid of Tripp DuPont?” Marek laughs manically.

“Is there more to this than me?” I ask, hearing the doubt and understanding in Marek’s voice.

“Tripp called this gauntlet. Bet you didn’t suspect that from your precious little boyfriend, huh?” Marek slams his open palm on the shelves behind my head. “You want it to stop, ask your little boyfriend to end it, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m telling Breaker to not bury Tripp.”

I rush past Marek, angry that he’s willing to allow this to happen. “You have the ability to stop this. I don’t want this to happen. Not for me.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but even I can’t stop this from happening. Settle in and enjoy the damn show because it’s going to be good.” Marek wraps his arm around Palmer who appears small next to his large stature.

“What if something horrible happens?” I ask, watching them for a reaction I can use to get what I want.

“Doesn’t it always?” Marek’s unmoved. Why am I not surprised? These boys may be used to destruction, but I refuse to sit around and watch any more blood be shed.

“Delaney!” Palmer groans as I walk away from them.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” I shake my head, even more frustrated than before.

“Well, that’s one way to stop the gauntlet.” She laughs, but it’s filled with sarcasm. Reminding me of what I already know about this impossible situation. “I know you’re upset, but I don’t see any way around this.”

“We’ll see about that.” I head out of the library without looking back.

Trish and her friends whisper and snicker as I storm past them. A couple of underclassmen talking shit about me is the least of my worries when a secret gauntlet is being planned.

******

As I storm across campus, I’m stopped a few times. First by a group of girls asking if Breaker and I are a thing. I somehow resist rolling my eyes. Then my first period teacher interrupts my anger, wondering where I was this morning. Having no real excuse, I lie.

“Sorry, period cramps,” I say, offering an apologetic smile.

One thing I’ve learned is that male teachers cringe when a female student mentions anything female related. They take our word as gospel.

In a voice filled with discomfort, he reminds me we have an exam on Friday, one I’m totally not prepared for.

“Oh, and, Miss Chambers?” Mr. Calhoun clears his throat and tugs on his tie. “I’m sorry to hear about the mess going on with your family.”

Nothing is more infuriating than an adult smiling at me like I’m a little child, hoping to soften the blow of what they’ve laid at my feet.

“My parents’ divorce is already final, Mr. Calhoun. No need for an apology.” I nod, hoping to be done with this conversation.

When my father’s affair became public knowledge, everyone couldn’t wait to see what my response would be. Unlucky for them, I didn’t have much of a reaction. His affairs are nothing new. He was a playboy when he met my mother. She happened to be the one who locked him down with a baby who grew up to be a young lady. Now I get to deal with the sad looks from classmates every time my parents’ mess is plastered over the internet.

“Delaney, have you not checked your phone today?” Mr. Calhoun’s mouth flattens when I shake my head. “You may want to call home.” He walks off, leaving me in the middle of campus.

I take out my phone and see several missed calls. Three from my father. Twelve from my mother. Two from Tripp. There are also thirty missed text messages I’ve received in the last ten minutes.

“What the hell?” I open a search and type in my parents’ names, and in a flash, information bombards me.

Love child? More than a simple affair? Paid off? Secret money in daughter’s name? Embezzlement?

It’s too much information to process. My chest rises and falls with short breaths that grow harsher with each one.

When I call my dad, it rings and rings several times before clicking over to voice mail. I don’t bother leaving a message.

The same happens when I try my mom, while walking through campus with no true direction. I’m close to the gate when I hear the first click. I’ve been going to events since I was old enough to walk up and down the red carpets. A camera lens clicking isn’t new to me.

The flashes make my eyes water. Rows of photographers line the metal fence that surrounds our campus. Security is trying to shove them away, but they’re outnumbered.

“Get in!” Breaker yells.

I twist towards his voice. His truck idles beside the curb, and he slings open the door, waiting for me. A glance around proves I have no choice. A photographer makes a break for me, pushing through the small line of security. Racing forward, I dive into the passenger seat, slamming the door as Breaker rolls up the window, blocking me from the rogue photographer.

“You good?” Breaker asks, racing through the gate.