Kingsley falls in line beside me as Everly flanks my other side. The throng of rowdy football players trail behind us, talking and jostling one another. A sheath of long blond hair catches the corner of my eye and I turn, gaze colliding with a heated blue one.
Sloane.
Unconcealed hatred wafts from her in hot, suffocating waves. She crosses her arms against her chest and stares daggers at me.
Once we reach the cafeteria, Everly and I split off from the guys as they head to the hot lunch line while we beeline to our usual table.
Her feet falter as she grumbles, “I liked it better when we sat by ourselves.”
I glance at her and then to the table in the center of the room. Jasper, Delilah, Austin, Duke, and a couple other boys are already there, digging into their lunches.
My guess is that her reluctance has everything to do with Duke. They’ve fallen into a strange pattern, Everly does her best to ignore him while the blond boy goes out of his way to needle her. He’s constantly poking and prodding. I don’t understand what his problem is. Before she started at Hawthorne Prep, Duke mostly kept to himself and didn’t bother anyone. It’s like she brings out the worst in him.
“I don’t mind if we sit somewhere else.” Over the last several weeks, Everly has become a really good friend. If she’s not comfortable eating lunch at our usual table, then we’ll move. Kingsley won’t be happy about it, but he can deal.
Indecision flickers across her face.
“Look,” I say, “I know you’re not crazy about Duke—”
She snorts before muttering, “How did you guess?”
“Did something happen between you two?” Maybe there’s more going on than I’m aware of.
“No,” she grumbles stubbornly, eyes narrowing, “I just don’t like him. It’s nothing more than that.”
Hmmm.
Why do I have the strange feeling that she’s holding back? There are definite undercurrents simmering beneath the surface between them, I’m just not sure what they mean. And let’s face it, I’ve had my own crap going on and haven’t been paying as much attention as I should.
And that’s on me for being a shitty friend.
My gaze flickers to the table again, and I’m surprised to realize that Duke has straightened on the bench and is watching us. Well, not us exactly.
More like Everly.
Yup, his focus is definitely locked on Everly.
From what I can tell, he doesn’t give a damn if she notices his blatant interest. If I was at all uncertain about something going on between them, those questions have been laid to rest. Now I just have to figure out what it is.
I clear my throat to recapture her distracted attention, since she’s full on glaring at the blond boy. If looks could kill, he’d be dead on arrival. “Maybe it would be better if we sit somewhere else for today.”
Her shoulders jerk back as she straightens to her full height. “You know what? Forget it, we’ll sit at our normal table. If that asshole thinks he can intimidate me, he’s got another thing coming.”
Well, she’s right about that. Everly has turned out to be the type of girl who isn’t easily cowed. By anyone. And that includes Duke.
Maybe I should say—Especially Duke.
Sparks are already flying, and we haven’t even reached the table yet. The two of them in such close contact seem like a disaster waiting to happen. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind if we move.”
Everly presses her lips together as determination settles over her face. She looks ready to do battle and I won’t lie, it’s a little frightening. “Nope, it’s all good.”
Sure, she says that now, but I’m worried about what will happen in ten minutes. The table could explode into a war zone.
“Clearly you two have a problem and I don’t want to make it worse.”
“It’s a little late for that,” she huffs.
I glance at Duke, unsure what to make of the bizarre situation. There’s always been a remoteness to his demeanor, as if there were an invisible shield separating him from everyone else at Hawthorne Prep. Everly, however, snaps him right out of his indifference. He gets this look in his eyes when she’s around. A strange mixture of anger and irritation.
Maybe even lust.
Then again, I could be reading into things that aren’t necessarily there.
“Is it possible for you guys to sit down and clear the air?”
“If clearing the air involves Duke Carmichael kissing my ass, then sure,” she mutters as we weave our way toward the table, “I’m all for it.”
Her snappy retort has the corners of my lips twitching.
As we reach the long stretch of polished wood, Everly takes the seat as far from Duke as she can possibly get and still remain in the same zip code. His lips curl into a feral smile, as if he understands her motivations for strategically positioning herself where she has. It’s like they’re playing an intense game of chess.