Just as he shook his head and relief pooled in my belly, the phone on his desk rang. I jerked upright as my stomach flipped.
“I’m betting that's Ric—my uncle,” I said, correcting myself. I leaned closer to the phone. He nodded as he turned it toward me before standing up and rounding his desk.
“You can stay,” I blurted, gripping the arm of the chair. The teeniest, tiniest smile found its way to my mouth. “I know you listen through the door anyway.”
The headmaster looked surprised at first, and I let myself laugh softly.
“Well…” he said as the ringing continued. “Okay then.”
Then, he plopped himself back down onto the chair just as Richard’s voice hit my ear.
“Hello, Gemma. I’ve missed you.”
Wish I could say the same.
Chapter Forty-Four
Isaiah
The fire crackled and popped every few seconds as my teammates surrounded it. The glow flickered across all of our team lacrosse shirts, making the white color appear orange with its burning hue. My eyes fell to every single person that circled the team, locking onto Bain for good measure and then scanning the crowd once more for Gemma. Where was she?
“Looking for someone in particular?” Brantley grunted, running a hand over his short hair. “A petite, brown-haired girl who has you wrapped around her dainty little talented finger?”
I snapped my gaze to him. “What do you know about her talented fingers?” A burning bolt of jealousy flung to my bones before I dug my shoes into the foliage underneath my soles. Get a fucking grip, Isaiah.
He chuckled, looking back out to the fire. “I was referring to her artistic abilities…but it’s good to know that our little chat earlier didn’t help get your mind out of the fucking gutter.”
Cade laughed from behind us. “Been there, done that. It won’t help, Brantley. Once you’re sucked in, you’re fucking done for.”
“Will you two shut the fuck up, please?” I popped my neck to the side, irritated that I was at the center of their conversation. I was even more irritated that I knew they were right. Both of them. Brantley had pulled me aside after lunch, gripped me by the neck, and brought his forehead down to mine. If it weren’t for our friendship, I probably would have swept him off his feet and choked him out, but his eyes burned with such an intensity that I actually waited to hear his reasoning. He was reminding me of my vow. The one I took when I first stepped foot in this school and had girls clinging to my side every single hour of every single day. I could touch, kiss, fuck, but emotions stayed out of it. Always. I made that clear to everyone when the claiming parties started. The claimings were supposed to be anonymous anyway, but some knew w
ho I was, even in the dark, and they thought they could continue the charade well into the next day. Not happening.
Brantley and Cade knew of my reasoning: because of my mother, because of my life, because of my future. They made that same vow.
And it was all fine until I kissed Gemma.
She wasn't the type of girl you kissed and forgot, and she wasn’t the type of girl you only touched once.
Cade knew how I was feeling. He had felt it with Journey, and just like Brantley was doing now, we all warned him to knock the shit off. It didn’t work. And even though Journey was gone, I knew he still felt her deep inside his bones. He carried around the burden every single fucking day. That was probably why he tossed girls out three seconds after fucking them without an ounce of dignity in his tone.
I knew after today in the dining hall, when Gemma seemed to bring me back down to earth, that I wouldn’t let her go easily. When she left St. Mary’s with the money and fake ID I promised her, she was going to have to truly disappear, because if not, I might just try and bring her back. And it ate away at me that I didn’t know more about why she was running. What had he fucking done to her?
“What exactly is your plan, Isaiah?” That came from Cade as he tipped back his Solo cup full of St. Mary’s punch. I snatched it from his hand and lifted it to my nose, smelling the Bacardi.
“Did you lace the punch?” I glanced behind me and saw Coach talking with Mrs. Graves a few feet away from the punch table. “You better hope to God Coach doesn’t catch you drinking that shit the night before a game.”
Cade smirked. “I laced my punch. No one else's.”
“Rude,” Shiner snarled, walking up behind us. “Share, fucker.”
Cade tipped his head over his shoulder and turned his back on the chaperones. He pulled out his flask next as I scanned the crowd once more for Gemma. A knot began to settle in between my shoulder blades.
“Bain’s right there. You can relax.” Brantley’s voice was low, but I heard the slight uptick of annoyance in it. “What has your dad said about Saturday? Anything?”
“No,” I snapped. “I don’t know how he expects me to take over when I’m on a need-to-know basis with him.”
Shiner smacked his lips after downing his cup of spiked punch. “Damn, that’s good.” If I weren’t on probation, I’d have some too. The burn would surely soothe the coolness of anger pumping throughout my body this evening. I was still irritated that Bain had almost gotten to me earlier. He knew it, too, by the way he kept grinning at me over the fire like a smug fuck.