“You know,” she said, “like four people have walked up to me in the hall to give me a high five. For hitting your brother.”
Chris snorted. “You’re probably living a dream.”
Her voice got quiet again. “I think more people heard about that than the ... the other stuff. But Vickers made me come see her during first period.”
Chris looked up again. Ms. Vickers was the guidance counselor. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But what’s funny is that I don’t think I need her help now. I finally feel like I can handle Drew, or pretty much anything, on my own. Does that make any sense?”
He held very still, as if sudden movement would make her realize she was confiding in the wrong guy. “Yeah, Becca. It does.”
She hesitated, then gave him the smallest of smiles. “You called me Becca.”
“Sorry.” Then he mentally kicked himself. Why the hell was he apologizing for using her actual name?
“No—I was just getting used to Becky.”
Oh.
He had to be reading this wrong. But she stared up at him until he almost couldn’t stand it; he was going to have to touch her, to take her face in his hands and share that moment of breath before—
The bell rang. She snapped back, grabbing her notebook, shoving it into her bag.
He’d lost the moment. Beamis was talking; students were clambering for the doorway. Becca was gone before he could figure out what had just happened.
Chris fought his way through the cafeteria, throwing food on his tray without paying attention. Was she just being friendly, offering some kind of truce in the middle of all this crap about the Guide? Or was it something more? She hadn’t looked at Hunter once the entire class; that much he was sure of. It didn’t seem like they’d left together, either, but it was hard to tell in the stampede for the cafeteria.
She’d been pretty pissed at the dude yesterday morning, now that he thought about it.
What she’d said in class—it felt painfully personal. She wouldn’t randomly spill that to a guy she hated. Definitely not to a guy whose presence she was just enduring.
A boy she liked?
Chris grabbed an apple by the register. He knew where she sat.
Maybe he’d sit down. Maybe they’d start over.
Money couldn’t leave his hand fast enough, and he almost told the lady to keep the change. He practically shoved other kids out of the way, navigating the maze of people to get to the back of the cafeteria. Just like in a movie, the sea of students seemed to part for a moment.
There she was, spinning a bottle of water on the table in front of her. She was smiling, almost blushing like she’d been in class.
I was just getting used to Becky.
Chris grinned, and told himself he looked like an idiot.
He couldn’t help it.
Then he got closer, and he realized her smile, her blush, wasn’t about him at all.
It was for the guy sitting across from her. Hunter.
“So are the stories true?” asked Hunter.
Becca watched him slice into his grilled chicken. Quinn was taking a makeup exam, so they had the table to themselves. She still wasn’t entirely sure about Hunter. Her mind was having a tough time reconciling his gentle patience with the way he’d gone after Chris in her driveway. It was like seeing a friendly old golden retriever turn vicious. All laid-back kindness, but make the wrong move and you learn those fangs aren’t just for show.
Then again, Hunter had spent the night comforting her—and hadn’t tried anything. He’d found her yesterday and apologized—then backed off to let her figure out where she stood.
That was a big part of the reason he was sitting here.