Chapter Nine

Dalen looked for Rory between classes and waited impatiently for her in third period when he still hadn't seen her all morning. After that class, he began to look for Carson as well, and he was nowhere to be found either. By lunchtime, he was seething, thinking she'd taken off with him. Well, she'd be sorry, he promised. He'd make her pay for two-timing him. Then he'd make Carson really sorry, and that would be the end of it.

“Have you seen Rory?” he asked at lunch and mostly no one had.

Jeri raised an eyebrow and sniggered. “Why do you care, man? She's playing behind your back. Just dump the slut,” she said, not noticing his anger. After the other cheerleaders stopped giggling, she added, “I heard she got suspended for cutting classes yesterday.”

Dalen didn't wait to hear anymore. He went tearing off to the faculty wing and into the teachers' lounge. His mother was sitting at a table with two other instructors. “I need to talk to you, Ms. Pryce,” he said pleasantly. She put down her sandwich and followed him out of the lounge. He went straight back to her office, and she was right behind him. Dalen closed the door after her and she sat in her office chair. “Did you suspend Rory Abramson?” he asked.

“I did,” she answered. “She cut class yesterday to take Carson Winslow to the hospital. She got five days’ suspension, and he got seven.”

Aghast, he demanded, “You suspended them together?”

Ms. Pryce frowned. “Yes...well, not in the way you mean, but their suspensions both started today. You're lucky you weren't suspended as well. If you'd been the one to throw the first punch, you'd be out of here so fast your head would spin.”

“He started the fight,” Dalen said impatiently.

“That may be, but he's the one with a broken nose,” Ms. Pryce retorted. “You deserve a week's suspension as much as they do.”

Dalen leaned forward, planting his hands on either side of her desk. “Then suspend me, Mother,” he bit out. In fact, he wanted to be suspended. He could spend the week with Rory.

“I would if I could. Of course, then you couldn't play in Saturday's game, and we know what your father would say about that,” she told him bitterly. “Go back to lunch, go to class, just get out of my office.”

Dalen shrugged and stood up slowly. “Fine, Ms. Pryce.” He stormed to the door. “Next time if it involves Rory or Winslow, you clear it with me,” he ordered without turning around.

Ms. Pryce chuckled. “I don't think so, Dalen. I'm the principal here and I make those sorts of decisions.”

Slowly, Dalen turned towards her with a threatening look. “That can be changed quite easily, Ms. Pryce. Since you have no alimony, what would you do without this cushy job?”

She didn't even blink. “Get another one,” Ms. Pryce answered evenly. “Blackmail doesn't always work, Dalen. Remember that,” she cautioned. “Also remember that there are some things and some people you can't bully. Sometimes, even for you, no means no.”

It was Dalen's turn to laugh. “Not for me,” he said arrogantly and left his mother's office. Dalen went straight to the parking lot and got in his Porsche, gunning the engine. He drove to Carson's house, and there was no sign on Rory's car. Though the garage door looked broken and incapable of opening, he got out and peered in the windows to make sure the Mustang wasn't parked in the gloomy recess.

Satisfied she wasn't with Carson at his house, Dalen drove across town to her home. Rory's Mustang was parked on the front of the street. Feeling better, he roared back to the high school and boldly sauntered into fifth period. He shot the teacher a challenging look, daring her to give him a tardy. She dropped her eyes and returned to the lecture. He sat in his usual desk and daydreamed of Rory.

After practice, Dalen went to the home he shared with Shuler and for the time being, Avriella. He knew his father would be gone for at least four more hours but he didn't go to find her. Since meeting Rory, well even before, he'd lost interest in Avriella. She still dropped hints and flirted with him, but he would never again take her to bed.

He took a shower and changed into jeans and a rugby shirt. He was combing his hair when the doorbell rang. Dalen didn't bother to go downstairs to answer it. After all, they had servants for that sort of thing. A few seconds later, Jeri tapped on the door and walked in. “Hey, handsome,” she greeted. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” he responded blandly. “I'm going to take Rory out for dinner tonight.”

Jeri rolled her eyes. “Why would you want to do that?” she asked sensuously, stretching out on the bed, “When you could stay in and have me for dinner?”

“Very amusing,” Dalen commented as he strapped on the Rolex his dad had given him for his thirteenth birthday. He noticed Jeri draped on the bed and sighed impatiently. “No more, Jeri,” he told her firmly. “I'm in a relationship now. I'm going to remain faithful.”

Jeri looked shocked. “But you've always wanted to fuck me. You haven't been able to get enough of me since we met. I've even helped you get girls before, and you still wanted me. What's wrong with you?” she demanded, standing up. “You're turning into a love-sick fool.”

Dalen's mouth tightened. “Get out,” he ordered. “Just get your ass out of here now.”

She laughed shrilly, grabbing her purse. “You are a fool, Dalen,” Jeri taunted. “It's plain to see she doesn't want you. She'd be in Carson's bed right now if you hadn't fucked with her head. Hell, maybe she's in Carson's bed anyway. It's not like she remembers the other night she spent with you. Do you honestly think if she wanted it, you would have had to drug her to fuck her? Get real. You've turned an amusing little game into an obsession. I hope you come back before it destroys you—destroys what we have together.” Jeri ran from the room, and Dalen was so angry he roared.

Using his arm, he swept everything off the top of his dressing table. Still furious, he smashed his fist against the mirror. Jeri was just being catty. There wasn't a bit of truth to what she'd said. No one said no to Dalen for long. He always managed to change their minds. Rory would be no different.

By the time he got around to pulling the glass shards from his hand and cleaning the wounds, he'd calmed down considerably. Dalen could barely feel any pain from the cuts and he scrubbed them thoroughly. After they were clean, he covered the deeper ones with gauze pads and wrapped them with tape. Then, whistling a happy tune, he drove to Rory's house.