The Pack (The Pack 1)

“I don’t actually,” I responded dryly, grabbing the note in her hand. “But thanks for the lecture.”

I left before she could comment and hoped like hell whatever message Dad had left didn’t require a response.

Can’t pick you up after school.

The message was exceptionally short for my dad, so I could only guess that the receptionist had summarized. I groaned, crumpling the note and tossing it in a trashcan. I didn’t relish the idea of walking the two miles to the motel, but I didn’t have a lot of other options, not unless I wanted to beg someone for a ride, and considering my stellar record at making friends that wasn’t likely to happen.

The bell rang before I made it back to class and instead of fighting the stream of students, I positioned myself against a locker to wait. Since everyone was headed to lunch, it wasn’t long before the halls were empty and I started back toward the classroom. I needed to grab my stuff since my lunch money was in my bag. However, before I even made it to the hall, I was brought short by a voice behind me.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said, his words a low rumble that somehow matched his size. I didn’t even have to turn to know who’d spoken. “The cafeteria is that way.” He raised one muscular arm and I noticed the enormity of his hand. He could easily wrap it around my neck, snapping it with no effort whatsoever. I suppressed a shudder, disturbed by the image.

“I left my bag in the room. I had to go to the office,” I babbled, waving the hall pass I still held as some sort of proof. I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain myself to him. He might be a teacher, but that wasn’t enough reason for me to seek his approval.

“You’ll have to wait until after lunch,” he answered, dismissing me as he turned away. I huffed, irritated by his casual dismissal. He must have heard me because he turned back and lifted his eyebrow. I froze under the force of his gaze and it was only the sight of the tiny smirk on his lips that snapped me back into my normal snarky self. I despised the fact that I was a source of amusement to him, even as I forcibly ignored the thrill I felt at witnessing the tiny grin.

“I need my bag,” I managed to say; straightening my spine as if it was somehow going to put me on the same level as him. He didn’t respond except to cross his arms over his chest, a sight I couldn’t help but follow as his shirt pulled taut over muscles I didn’t even know existed. “My lunch money is in it,” I finally admitted, feeling like a five year old.

“The doors are locked when the teacher leaves the room. School policy,” he explained, some of his gruffness easing. I frowned, wondering if my day could get any worse. I had to walk home, and now I had to do it on an empty stomach. “Come on, I’ll buy your lunch today.”

My head jerked up at his words and for a brief second I saw his hesitation, as if he’d surprised himself with the offer. I was about to politely refuse, because no part of me wanted to be indebted to him for anything, when my stomach growled.

Loudly.

To my utter mortification.

He fought a smile as I blushed a new shade of red and crossed my arms over my stomach as if I could somehow muffle the sound.

“Let’s go,” he snapped, his smile gone like it had never happened as he turned back into the jerk I was fast becoming familiar with. “I’d rather not miss lunch waiting on you.”

He was already half way down the hall when I moved. He held the door open for me as if he knew I would follow, and I edged past him, making sure I didn’t brush against him. At the cashier, he paid for two lunches and when he handed me my ticket he didn’t let go when I grabbed it.

“Why don’t you sit at our table today?”

I tugged a little more forcefully on the ticket, not wanting to answer, but he didn’t intend to release it until I gave him an answer.

“Is that a question or an order?” I snapped, wondering where the hell my bravery was coming from because the guy in front of me was terrifying.

He tilted his head as if he hadn’t expected that particular response and let go of the ticket. I stumbled slightly, since there was no longer any resistance and he shook his head.

“An invitation,” he murmured, lowering his hand to his side as he stepped aside to let me go ahead. I eased past him, suddenly uncomfortable with him behind me. A quick glance around the room revealed numerous curious stares, and as my gaze skated over the teachers’ tables, I was reminded he wasn’t a student. One teacher in particular was watching us intently and I recognized her as the one who gossip said had been rejected.