It was three days before Maverick made his next move.

Part of me still expected a black eye for all the trouble I had put him through, but I was discovering Maverick was a lot more versatile than I originally thought.

I filed into the lunchroom along with the stream of other hungry students, tugging at the rough material that circled my neck. I had run out of my own scarves, so I had to resort to borrowing Ellie's. The mark Maverick left was still too dark to cover up with makeup alone.

My mother didn't say anything about it, but I was pretty sure she caught glances when I was being careless. Not for the first time, I wished I could break down and tell her everything I've been doing for the past weeks. She had always been honest with me, after all, no matter how much it hurt.

But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. Through everything we had endured, she was forced to be the strong one, to make the sacrifices, to summon insurmountable courage. It was my turn to carry some of the burden, even if I felt her drifting farther and farther away at every silent meal.

"What is he doing now?" Ellie said, disgust in her voice. Her nose wrinkled up as she stared across the cafeteria. I followed her gaze.

Maverick caught my eye as he stood up on his seat, preaching over his table. A leather-bound journal was fanned open in his hand, held out in front of him as he read the words in his smooth tone. My journal.

Maverick's voice already carried enough on its own, but with him projecting he was heard from wall to wall of the overflowed mess hall. Thankfully most people were more interested in their lunch than my awful poetry, but enough people had upturned their faces to meet Maverick's words for my face to turn a bright scarlet.

"Blacktop, by Angelica Moore," Maverick said. A grin twisted his words as he saw me throw down my lunch and storm over to him. He began reading anyway.

Maverick wasn't one for senseless revenge. He had some sort of angle. Sure, I was playing right into his hand by letting this get to me, but I wasn't about to sit here and listen to him mock my thoughts right in the middle of the lunchroom.

When Maverick first saw my journal, he called it a diary. He wasn't exactly far from the truth. All my secrets were poured into those pages. Everything I couldn't tell Miles or Ellie or my Mom ended up stained into the paper. Worst fears. Senseless dreams. Money problems. My bisexuality. My father. My crushes. Everything.

And now all of those secrets were in the hands of the one person who would ever dream of using them against me.

"Give it back, Maverick." It was as if I hadn't spoken at all. He carried on with his reading, his voice booming even louder than before. Stares were sticking to us as I waited beside his chair, arms tightly crossed over my chest. My cheeks were growing redder by the second.

"Cut it out," I groaned in frustration, making a move to get closer. He spotted me out of the corner of his eye and hopped up on the table, rooting his black boots among styrofoam lunch trays. My gaze glanced down to Ducky and Sticks. Solomon's lips were tweaked with laugher, but Ducky's usual frown had only deepened as Maverick almost kicked over his water. I wasn't about to get any help from them, or anyone in this lunchroom for that matter.

"For Christ's sake, Maverick! What do you want?" I practically screamed out in exasperation. His voice dropped in an instant and the arm holding my journal fell to his side. Nonchalantly, he hopped down off the tabletop, landing close enough to send me stepping back out of reflex.

"I'm glad you asked," he smiled. It was far from friendly. He was back to his cool and collected self, a fire blazing behind a mask of steel.

By now I'm sure he had figured out that I was bluffing about the security cameras. The administration wouldn't come after him. Even if I owned up to Mr. Harlow, it was questionable if my testimony alone was enough to get him expelled. There wasn't any actual evidence.

"Wait for me in the church parking lot after school. We need to talk." The way he chewed on his last word made me nervous, sending an icy feeling sliding into my gut as I tried to swallow down my fear. I nodded.

He brushed past me, and I tried to ignore the electricity that sparked through my skin as his shoulder slid past mine. When I looked back at him, his neck was craned over his shoulder to get one last look at me as well. He cracked another dark smile and then he was gone.

Ellie talked my ear off for the rest of the lunch period, but I hardly heard a word. The rest of my day was a muddled mess of thoughts. I was left drowning in Maverick's words, my stomach flipping at every theory I had as to what he could possibly have in store for me.

It was particularly difficult to pull myself out of my anxious haze in current events where I was plagued by his constant mocking smirks and vaguely threatening comments. But I would have stayed there for an eternity rather than stand here, in the middle of the church parking lot, for it meant the safety of Mr. Montgomery's eyes sweeping over the classroom.

The lot was empty by the time Maverick met me at my car. I was leaned up against the back bumper, hands shoved into my pockets. He took a seat next to me, one boot kicked back against the silver finish.

"You look a little pale there, Angel," he teased, brushing the back of his fingers along my arm. I pulled away.

"What do you want, Weir?" My voice was sharp.

"You."

"Cut the crap and give me a straight answer."

Maverick pushed off the car and took a few sure steps along the pavement. He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time that day.

When Miles was eight and his parents split, he went through this odd phase of carrying around a magnifying glass everywhere he went. He had a fascination with ants, or rather, angling the sunlight just right in his glass so that the bugs would fry in the intensity of the heat, shrivel up, and die.

Under his gaze, I felt like one of those ants.

"You work for me now. I'll let you deal, but you get all your weed through me, I set the prices, and you sell to who I tell you to." He took a few steps towards me, resting his hands on the fender on either side of my hips. His lips were dangerously close to mine.

"I own you now."

"I don't have to listen to this shit," I spat, pushing past him in disgust. My shaking fingers struggled to get a hold of my keys as I rounded the car. His voice followed me.

"Walk away now and you won't have secrets anymore. What happened in the cafeteria today was only the beginning," he warned.

I faltered, my motions stuttered by hesitation. I didn't doubt Maverick would make good on his threat. He took a few steps towards me as he spoke.

"I bet Ellie would love to know you've been dying to kiss her since the seventh grade."

I stopped completely, feeling the hope drain out through my toes. My keys were dead weight in my hand, only half shoved into the door lock. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out everything about this. They snapped open when I felt his hand brushing my neck.

"I had no idea you were so kinky, too. Exactly how turned on were you when I handcuffed you to that stairwell? You know, if you asked nicely I might even do it again."

I ripped away from his touch but didn't make a move for the driver's side door. Maverick simply had too much hanging over my head. This was it. I was powerless.

"I'll stop selling — for good this time, I promise. You win. I'm not your problem anymore, just leave me alone." I tried to open up my car door, itching to get as far away from him as I possibly could. In a swift motion, his hand reached across and clicked it shut.

Maverick's wry smile twisted to the side, and his voice dropped, low and threatening.

"It's too late for that."

"What do you mean 'it's too late'?" I seethed. "You've been trying to get me stop selling for weeks now. Isn't this what it's all about?"

He shrugged. "Things changed. You're more useful to me now."

"I can't do this." My breath was coming shorter.

"You don't have a choice," he reminded me. I could see his patience slipping, but the undeniable amusement in his eyes was still there. He had the upper hand and he not only knew it, he enjoyed it.

Talk about twisted.

"I had the chance to turn you in," I muttered. I could hardly breathe. "I lied for you. I protected you." My eyes flicked up to him, but his expression was detached, emotionless. So much so that I returned my gaze to the ground.

"If you were any smart, you would have. Ready to cooperate?" he asked. I glanced up once more, hardly able to hold his dark gaze before my stomach twisted into a knot. Sharp edges cut into my palm as I fisted my hand around the car keys. This wasn't making a business deal. This was signing my own death warrant.

"I'll do it, but I want my journal back."

He laughed. "No way. That's my insurance. Besides," he said, leaning in close, "you're not really in a position to be negotiating." He mocked me with a smug smile.

I ground my teeth together, not trust my own words, and felt my blood drain from my face. He was right. I didn't have any power here.

He jerked his head to the side towards his vehicle. "Get in the truck." He turned his back and walked off, trusting that I would follow.

I did.