A. Couple. Of. Weeks.
Weeks.
Weeks close enough to touch her. Weeks spending time in the same house, going to the same school.
I’m going to go out of my damn mind.
I got into Westover at two this morning, opting to get a few hours of sleep in my old truck before school. I refused to knock on their door in the middle of the night, no matter how badly I wanted to see her and press my nose into her delicately scented hair.
Ignoring every other person in the hallway, my eyes float around until they land on Frankie. My memories didn’t do her justice at all. She’s so fucking gorgeous, her silky brown hair hanging in waves around her shoulders. The vibrant color of her shirt makes her gray eyes pop against her milky skin.
I haven’t really looked at anyone else, but I still know she’s the prettiest girl in this school.
“Look out!” someone yells, ripping my attention from the girl at the other end of the hall.
On instinct, I lift my hands and catch a wayward football before it slams into some girl’s head. I toss it back to the idiot, using as much force as I can manage. He catches it in his gut with an oomph.
“That was awesome!” someone praises, and when I look over, I see a cluster of girls in cheerleading uniforms smiling at me. They clap and smile like I’ve just scored a touchdown in a state championship game. Clearly, it doesn’t take much to impress these people.
When my eyes find Frankie again, she doesn’t seem happy to see me. I guess she never anticipated that I’d show up on her turf after she left without so much as a goodbye.
Here I am, pretty girl, and I’m not going anywhere.
I glare at her, making sure she understands.
Her lip twitches in annoyance, but the sight of her blinking eyes and the handful of freckles dotting her perfect nose makes me soften a little toward her.
The entire drive here, I fought myself on how I wanted things to be when I got to Colorado. A part of me wanted to hate her, wanted to punish her for walking away and taking a part of me with her, but the biggest part of me, the part that pressed the gas pedal to its limits to get here faster, wanted to walk right up to her and kiss her pretty lips and demand that she be mine.
Now that I’m in the moment, surrounded by new people with her glaring at me from across the hallway, I’m once again torn. Maybe giving in right away isn’t the best thing for us? Maybe we both need a little time to adjust to me being here?
Before I can make up my mind, a warm hand slides down my chest. My eyes snap down to the intruder, finding a decently pretty girl with red-painted lips and a devious smile.
“You saved my life,” she purrs.
I want to snort and tell her to get lost, but one quick look back at Frankie is enough for me to keep the charade going. The gray-eyed girl down the hall is less than impressed with the girl standing in front of me with her hand on my chest like she owns me. It’s clear that these two aren’t friends, and I’m asshole enough to play that very angle for a little while. She hurt me when she left, and I think she deserves a little of that herself.
Man does jealousy look good on Frankie.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell the girl as she steps even closer. “What’s your name?”
“Bronwyn,” she coos, letting her finger slip between the buttons of my shirt to rake her fingernail over the skin of my chest.
I feel nothing but the urge to push her away. If Frankie ever touched me like this, I know I’d be a steel pipe in my jeans looking for the first empty classroom.
The air is charged around us with everyone standing around and watching. Several smaller groups are carrying on conversations, but most of the people are looking back and forth between this girl and the blond guy standing behind Frankie.
Even though I’m just now noticing him doesn’t keep me from wanting to plow my fist into his face. Then a pretty blonde girl clasps his hand in hers, and my heart rate drops a little. Frankie isn’t with him. He has someone else.
“That’s a pretty name,” I tell the girl without taking my eyes off Frankie. “I’m Zeke.”
Bronwyn says something else, but I can’t seem to pull my attention from the girl at the end of the hall. I want her to storm over here and rip this girl from my chest and claim me for her own, but I know enough about Frankie to know that it will never happen. She’s nonconfrontational at best, and unless she’s cornered, she won’t say a word. She definitely won’t be aggressive with anyone while there are witnesses. She’s too shy for that.