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“I don't have anything else to do.” Ignacio chuckles darkly, making me chew on my inner lip anxiously.

“You don’t?” I ask.

“I work side jobs for my dad and I own the club with the guys,” he says. “I’m pretty free during the day, and while Theo and Jared like to fight on the legal side of things, I just enjoy being an asshole. I’ll stir the pot all day long. Think I can get some volunteer hours here at lunch time, Rachelle?”

Relaxing slightly, I decide to let things unfold the way they’re supposed to. I have a support system. I’m too stubborn to back down now.

“Before we get out, I want to add this,” Rachelle says. “I have your pain meds. If you feel like you need more toward the tail end of the day, my office is in the western wing of the school. It’s by the bell tower. I kind of have a thing for them, and they’re a good place to hide if you need to.”

I take that advice to heart with a nod, because I might honestly need it.

“Are there any other places she can go that’ll get her a break?” Ignacio asks. “Rachelle used to know all the good hiding places at school. I’m not saying that she should have needed to know them since I was definitely the problem, but⁠—”

“Stay on topic,” Rachelle says, rolling her eyes as she turns off the car. “A few of the theater kids have mentioned the auditoriums have walkways over it that they like to spend their lunch hour in. The school has two of them so that the band, orchestra, and theater students can practice without bothering each other. There’s a lot of hidden spaces there. Since stairs are sometimes an issue, I would also suggest the maze of back rooms behind the stage.”

“See?” Ignacio smirks smugly, unbuckling his seatbelt as he pushes open the door. “Let’s see if I can make someone shit their pants.”

“Fuck, I might have brought the wrong husband for this,” Rachelle mutters as she grabs her purse.

“I somehow think you brought the right one,” I giggle, carefully opening the door and pushing myself up to stand.

Groaning slightly, I pick up my backpack and carefully arrange it over my shoulders. I found some shoe prints on my skin there too when I was getting dressed.

“How bad is the bruising?” Ignacio asks, watching me as I close the door.

“I have bruises in the form of shoes on my body,” I grumble. “It’s not great.”

“Doesn’t Lili’s dad swear by arnica cream?” Ignacio asks.

“Shit, he does,” Rachelle says. “I’ll pick some up. Why don’t you have lunch with me today, Noor. Then you won’t have to worry about the cafeteria. I’m sure Calvin would bring us lunch, and he’s already researching food that will help bruising.”

“I think I’ll do that,” I decide. “Avoiding anywhere the school population is during lunch sounds great. Do you really think Calvin wouldn’t mind?”

“Nah, half the time I think he’s bored since we all leave during the day,” Ignacio says. “His favorite days are when Rachelle takes clients at home in the backyard.”

“I am very hydrated on the days I’m home,” she adds with a chuckle.

Starting to walk across the parking lot, I notice how quiet it is. The first class has already started, which means most students are there.

“Another good option to hang out in is the library,” Rachelle says. “There are a lot of nooks there and there’s an elevator.”

“God bless the elevators,” I sigh.

I manage to walk up the front steps to the school with only a couple of heavy breaths, and then Ignacio is pulling open the door. The sounds of our shoes on the ground echo as we walk, and the hallway seems empty.

Ignacio’s eyes take everything in as we move through the hallways to the front office, and I startle as I see Ciaran’s blue-black curls as he leans in an alcove. His brows are pulled down as he glares at me, and he draws his finger across this throat.

“You have to try harder than that to scare me,” I say, worried my voice will crack. Thankfully, the only signs of my nerves are internal. My heart rattles in my chest, stuttering and pounding inside like a caught butterfly.

My breathing is slightly labored, but I expect that’s from the stress I’m placing my body through. I sound like I smoke several packs of cigarettes a day, even though I’ve never touched them.

Ciaran simply smirks as he slinks away, and Ignacio growls under his breath.

“Fucking punk,” he mutters. “God, please tell me I wasn’t this bad.”

“You were worse,” Rachelle replies, walking ahead.

Ignacio rolls his eyes as we follow behind her. Her heeled boots make a dull sound with each step, but it gives me something to focus on. I let myself dissociate a little so I won’t spiral out on why Ciaran was watching me.