No feelings allowed in this body for her.
Not a single one.
“She’s back,” Dane says, straightening up from the wall, an enigmatic expression on his face. “Gotta give it to her—she’s got balls.”
“Mmmm,” I say, studying her while she isn’t looking. Gone is the long blonde hair, replaced with jet black. She looks harder. Her mouth is frozen in a smirk with bright red, glittery lipstick on her full lips, accentuating the sensual curves there, the paleness of her skin. Small freckles dot over her nose, same as before, but it’s the tense set of her jaw that tells you she’s not the same. Her skirt is a hair too short by the school guidelines, the hem hitting about three inches above her knee instead of the required two. I wonder if scholarship students get the last pick when it comes to uniforms. I guess their clothes are free, like the textbooks. Do they give her just a couple of sets of each one? Two jackets, a few shirts and skirts? I can’t even count the number of uniforms in my closet at home, so many khakis, perfectly starched white shirts, and a myriad of ties.
Her red blazer with the Camden dragon crest is draped over her arm, her white blouse snug around the fullness of her breasts. On her feet are ragged black Converse. My gaze lingers, taking in the tall white socks on her calves.
“Why are you staring at her like that?” Chance hisses at me, standing on my other side.
“Like what?”
Who is she deep down? To walk into this place, eyes lit with a vicious edge.
My hands curl.
She’s so sweet.
So forbidden.
“Like you’re fascinated or some shit.” His voice is hushed.
“Mmmm,” I murmur.
I can feel him still watching me watching her as he says, “Leave her be.”
I narrow my eyes at her, not even listening to him, feeling annoyed by the vulnerable hunch in her shoulders that grows, the one she keeps attempting to straighten as she walks closer to us.
I shrug, keeping the movement cool and light. “She’s definitely a spark that just might ignite and catch fire.”
“And burn us all down in the process,” Dane mutters. “I agree with Chance—stop.”
“Can’t do it,” I answer under my breath. I lick my lips, battling internally to drop my gaze from her, feeling baffled by it.
She came back, she came back, she really did it.
Chance’s jaw pops as he watches her, grappling with control.
She seems rooted to her place in the hall, sweeping her eyes over us. Students jostle past her, giving her a wide berth.
Come on, little Ava.
Come closer to me, fierce girl.
One more step.
Let me touch you. On the arm. Your hand. Anything.
Please.
My fingers twitch.
“I can’t believe she’s back,” Chance grunts and looks at me, keeping his voice low so she can’t hear us. “Did you know?”
“Why would you think I’d know?” I say dryly.
“Because you always know shit. Your dad is on the board.”
I laugh. Oh, if he only knew the information I have—all of it about defiant, charity case Ava. I have so many details about her life it makes my head spin, makes my cock hard—
Stay far, far away.
Chance’s chest rises. “My father took my car away after that party. I still don’t have it—when I did nothing wrong. She was my date, and that was all it took for him to judge me and hold me responsible.”
Yeah, but he left with Brooklyn.
Annoyance tugs at me. “Weren’t you in love with her?”
He inhales sharply, but his voice is subdued. “No.”
Liar.
I chuckle under my breath.
My gaze lingers on her heart-shaped face, watching as she stumbles, her feet pushing forward and stopping about four feet from us, staring at Chance. Hate flows from her, almost palpable. Hot. Electric.
He pales and his throat bobs, some of that anger leeching out of him and turning into…hmmm, fear? Nothing ruffles him these past months like someone bringing up Ava, and seeing her for the first time since that night—well, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost.
He drops his eyes.
“You over her for real?” I stare at him hard.
“Fuck yeah.”
Last year, he was totally lost in Ava. I saw it when he gave her puppy dog looks in class, and shit, even I heard angels singing when she gazed back at him. I saw it when he’d throw down his helmet after a game and dash over to pick her up and twirl her around. He talked about her constantly, how he thought she might be the one. He didn’t brag about his sexual conquests with her. No, he kept that under wraps.
He and I have been best friends since our days at the elementary campus. When I showed up one day in middle school with my face in stitches, swollen and red, and he asked me what the hell happened, I told him it was nobody’s business. He accepted it, made it his own personal crusade to tell everyone to Back the fuck off and stop asking. When he lost his mom sophomore year to cancer, I stayed by his side for weeks, playing mindless video games and talking about nothing to ease him. I know what death is, the grief it brings.
Chance’s jaw grinds. “I never thought I’d see her again.”
I stare down at my phone. “Yet here she is. Random factoid: did you know date rape drugs wear off pretty fast?”
Chance flinches. “Just stop, Knox. She wasn’t assaulted. She lied.”
“Mmmm,” I murmur.
Dad easily obtained the police report for Dane and me after her interview and everyone else’s at the party. I know about the bruises on her inner thighs. I know she doesn’t remember much. And those police interviews with the players? A fucking joke, or at least I think so, though it was a tense few days with my dad’s scrutiny squarely on us for the first time in a while. Dane was one of the guys dancing with her in the video, and then there was my predicament. Still, once our obligatory interview with the cops was over, Dad flew us to LA for a U2 concert as if nothing had happened.
Dane may have told me to stop staring, but even he has her in his sights, a low, wary look in his gaze.
She certainly draws the eye.
“Guess it doesn’t matter,” I say to Chance. “Nobody believes some scholarship girl.” I study my nails.
His reply is lost when Brooklyn appears next to Chance, batting her lashes up at him as she curls her fingers around his upper arm. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs, sending a scathing glance back at Ava. “You okay?”
He gives her a nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Brooklyn smiles at him and wanders off to slide in next to Jolena, and I watch them huddle together for a moment then approach Ava.
How will she handle it?
Will she stay at Camden when life gets tough?
Because it will.
It’s going to be fucking bad for her—
Chance snaps his fingers in my face, and I realize I’d forgotten about him. His eyes have followed mine to the girls several feet away. “You’re a dick. Stay away from her,” he finally says.
I laugh.
We all know he doesn’t mean Brooklyn.
“Both of you shut up. We’re all dicks. We’re Sharks,” Dane says just as the bell rings.
Sharks. I don’t know where the name came from, this “club” we’re in, but it’s been around for years. Our dad was one. Chance’s too. We stick together. Mostly it’s jocks from the various sports teams, born to the richest parents. We don’t have a ceremony with hooded cloaks and candles and hazing. Either you’re part of the inner circle or you’re not.
We straighten, pick up our backpacks, and head down the hall, cutting through the less fortunate, making our way to class.
Yet…
I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Ava’s back as she struggles with the combination on her lock. Her head is tilted down, the strange dark hair draped on either side, exposing the graceful arch of her neck taut with tension. The skin there is creamy and perfect.
She walked in here like she owns the place, but she doesn’t.
I do.
Still…
The very air around her seems lit with an aura of expectancy.
Emotion, something unnamed, rare and beautiful, brushes down my spine.
I tense.
Rein it in.
4
I’m so freaking late, practically running when I dash into my History of Film class. The teacher, Mrs. White, is an older lady with gray curly hair and small wire-rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a baggy dress with huge pockets on the sides and old sandals. Rather absentminded and a bit quirky, she has a rep as a fun teacher. She lifts her head when I come to a stop, my shoes squeaking on the slick tile. Everyone already has a seat, and it’s clear from the seating chart on the whiteboard that she doesn’t have my name down. Great. That’s what last-minute registration gets me. It’s going to be like this all day, me showing up and not being on the roll.
She stops talking, a surprised look on her face as she motions me forward. Everyone cranes their neck to get a look at me as I walk up to her desk, maneuvering through the small desk tables, each one seating two students. Dang, I’m going to have to actually sit next to someone. I send a prayer up that it’s not one of the Sharks, hoping for just a regular student like me. I pass by Piper, whose eyes are wide. I grimace when I see she’s been placed next to Dane. She sticks out her tongue at me and rolls her eyes so hard it actually looks painful, and I bite back a grin.