Queen of Hawthorne Prep

And then we’re pulling open the doors and getting swallowed up by the tide of students making their way to their lockers.

“Did you study for the lit quiz?” she asks.

“Not really.” I shoot her a grimace. “I’ve read the story so many times that I’m pretty sure I can get away with winging it.”

“I’ll catch you at lunch,” Austin cuts in as I stop in front of my locker.

I give him a quick wave as he strides away. Everly’s attention stays glued to him until he disappears down the corridor.

“Your brother is a real hottie,” she says conversationally. I get the feeling it’s more of an observation than a round about way of telling me that she’s interested.

A smile springs to my lips as I grab my books from inside my locker. “My advice is to steer clear. I hate to say it, ’cuz I love him and everything, but the guy is kind of a manwhore. And even though we just met, I like you way too much to see you get chewed up and spit out.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see how that comment will play out. From experience, it’ll go one of two ways. If she gets huffy, then I know Everly was never interested in developing a friendship with me. If she—

When a burst of laughter escapes from her upturned lips, the tension filling me evaporates.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not interested. I’m more than happy to admit that he’s pretty to look at, but the guy has dangerous stamped all over him. Which is exactly the type I avoid at all costs.” She cracks a grin. “But I appreciate the warning. I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve had to issue it.”

“It’s not.” I can’t help but return the easygoing smile. “A lot of girls look at him as a challenge.”

“Been there, done that. And have the T-shirt to prove it.”

“Ohhh,” I chuckle, eyes widening, “I sense a story.”

“Here, I’ll give you the SparkNotes version, it doesn’t have a happy ending. Anyway,” she says before quickly changing the subject, “I ordered a copy of Wuthering Heights last night, so I’ll be able to return yours in a couple of days. Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” I slam the metal door shut.

Everly keeps up a light chatter as we walk through the corridor to her locker. I’m only half-listening as I search the area for Kingsley. I don’t remember seeing his red Mustang parked in the lot when we arrived. I pull my phone from my blazer pocket and glance at it for the umpteenth time.

There’s still nothing. It’s been almost an hour and a half since I fired off the first text and he still hasn’t responded. Even though I can’t imagine what could be wrong, it feels like something is off.

The two-minute warning bell rings as Everly shoves her messenger bag into her locker and grabs her books for first hour before we hightail it to class. As soon as I step over the threshold, my gaze flies around the room, but he’s conspicuously absent. My brows draw together in concern as I slide into my assigned seat and Everly settles on the one across from me. There’s less than a minute before the bell rings and Kingsley continues to be MIA. I slip my phone from my pocket and send one last text before Ms. Pettijohn passes out the quiz.

Now I am worried.

What if something happened to him?

Like an accident.

Should I reach out to his dad? I don’t even have Keaton’s number.

I’m at a loss as to what to do.

As the bell rings throughout the building, signaling the start of class, Kingsley strolls into the room and takes his seat. Relief rushes through me as I sag on the chair. Why did I allow myself to get so jacked up? Clearly, everything is fine. He probably overslept and was running late.

“All right, everyone,” Ms. Pettijohn begins, “it’s quiz time!”

Groans ripple throughout the room.

Now that Kingsley is here, I wait for him to turn around and flash me a familiar grin or wink. Any gesture that will prove that we’re good and my downward spiral was nothing more than a strange case of self-induced paranoia. One minute slowly ticks by and Kingsley’s attention stays focused at the front of the room as our teacher finishes passing out the one-page quiz. When sixty more seconds creep by and he doesn’t acknowledge my presence, I realize it’s not a bout of paranoia after all.

Something is definitely wrong.

But what?

Chapter Ten

Confusion swirls through me as I mentally pour over the events of the last twenty-four hours with a fine-tooth comb.

I don’t get it.

Why is Kingsley ignoring me?

Last night, we had sex and I fell asleep with his arms banded around me. What could have changed between now and then?