Chapter Eight

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I ran only two laps when my anger finally broke the surface.

That slut!

Pardon my French, but it was so utterly, completely true. I'll explain.

Isabella. That stupid skank.

I'd been keeping an eye on her watching Jace through out the twenty minutes of us being out here in the steady downpour. Wet turf and fake grass covered everyone, sticking to the skin like adhesive. The uncomfortable sensation it caused had us attempting to rub it off as we jogged our way in squelching circles.

Isabella...

She wore her extra short shorts today, the kind that peeked at the bottom of butt cheeks. She was clearly showing off the fact that she was either commando or wearing a thin thong. Her tanned legs glistened in the dreary wet weather, looking perfect even in this despairing circumstance. Jace had glanced over at me a couple of times, waving the first time but catching onto my mood immediately while connecting the dots. He puzzled at Isabella's inescapable attention as he ran through football drills. His black shirt stuck to his frame in stark contrast to his radiant skin and sanguine eyes. I could see that his hair hung, dripping, in his face as the guys did some burpees. The shroud of rain obscured his figure from this distance, but I guessed he could see perfectly.

Isabella had practically been doing lap dances. She twirled with her soggy pom-poms like the rest of the girls, but hers were exaggerated and purposefully revealing in the way she 'accidentally' fell forward a couple of times, causing her ass to shoot into the air and a peak of- I guessed it- hot pink thong to ride above the rim of her waistband. Her tank top rode down, white fabric sticking to skin in see-through clarity. All the while, her slitted eyes in Jace's direction.

She had mud all over her now, but it was quickly washed away. She did a real life twirl of her hair, resembling the whores in Hollywood movies. I, with 70% of the class, stared in awestruck disgust. And with every movement, a flare of fury rose in my throat.

And the last straw came closely behind that as I ran my fourth lap around the field.

She was practically serving herself on a platter. The cheerleaders began to run like the rest of us, but Isabella started a girly jog behind the rest. And it did exactly what she intended to do: have her breasts jump in slow-motion. Over half of the football players had stopped their drill altogether, not that Coach Garrett was paying attention.

And of course, Jace didn't understand the half of it. He looked around, obviously confused why the other guys were not moving. He'd noticed Isabella's odd movements, but didn't catch onto the appeal it was meant for. Instead, he'd watched me and the other girls I ran with while continuing some effortless push-ups.

And that is what had made me snap. The fact that that tactic worked 99% of the time and she had no shame in it. That she'd target the new guy, MY guy. That thought caught me off guard, but it was true. With total disregard for her actual boyfriend. Shameless. My colorful vocabulary drew a few heads around me as I charged right over to her across the field.

By the time I was close to her, my legs were splashed thigh high in mud, but I was beyond caring at this point.

"Stop that," I said in a cold voice. Isabella looked up from "tying her shoe", smirked, and stood up.

"What, are you jealous? Poor thing, did you think that you could be better than me? Don't think I haven't noticed the way he follows you around but looks at me when he passes." The stupidity blew my mind. Delusional. It was egotistical girls like this that had no limits and took my anger level from 0 to 100 in a second. Maybe he glanced at her because anyone would look at someone who stared holes into their face. Even an alien.

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