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No matter the road you take, it doesn’t matter if it’s beautiful or ugly, hard or smooth, paved or pitted with ruts—it’s your road to take. What matters is how it ends.
It’s been ten months since you were here, but I can’t forget you. I’ve missed seeing you walk down the hall. I’ve missed you cheering at my football games. I’ve missed the smell of your hair.
P.P.S. I’ve tried to fight it with everything I have, but I want you. Still.
Part of me never wants to see her face again, but the other side of me…well, that’s the one I have to worry about.
A suffocating feeling grows in my chest. She. Is. Here.
She made me look at her, and I hated it. Even now, I itch to peel the sensation right off my skin. No feelings allowed in this body for her.
Who is she deep down? To walk into this place, eyes lit with a vicious edge. My hands curl. She’s so sweet. So forbidden.
I narrow my eyes at her, not even listening to him, feeling annoyed by the vulnerable hunch in her shoulders that grows, the one she keeps attempting to straighten as she walks closer to us. I shrug, keeping the movement cool and light. “She’s definitely a spark that just might ignite and catch fire.”
“Both of you shut up. We’re all dicks. We’re Sharks,” Dane says just as the bell rings. Sharks. I don’t know where the name came from, this “club” we’re in, but it’s been around for years. Our dad was one. Chance’s too. We stick together. Mostly it’s jocks from the various sports teams, born to the richest parents. We don’t have a ceremony with hooded cloaks and candles and hazing. Either you’re part of the inner circle or you’re not.
I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Ava’s back as she struggles with the combination on her lock. Her head is tilted down, the strange dark hair draped on either side, exposing the graceful arch of her neck taut with tension. The skin there is creamy and perfect. She walked in here like she owns the place, but she doesn’t. I do.
The very air around her seems lit with an aura of expectancy. Emotion, something unnamed, rare and beautiful, brushes down my spine. I tense. Rein it in.
He laughs and leans away from me, but not before the air around him shifts and I catch his cologne. He smells like the ocean, salt and sunshine and coconuts, and my chest swells.
He likes this. He enjoys messing with me. He smiles. I smile.
“All I had that was mine—my body—was taken without my consent, by you or one of your precious teammates. There’s nothing else you can do to me, Cold and Evil. Go tell your little brat pack that today. Something’s going to trigger my memory and when it does, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.” “I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” His eyes flash.
There’s silence as Knox and I stare at each other. He shakes his head. “You’re mouthy.” “Get used to it.”
“I can’t imagine being alone with you.” He doesn’t answer, and I turn to look at him. He’s toying with his laptop, rubbing his fingers absently across the silver keyboard, looking at nothing. Suddenly, he frowns. “Because you’re afraid of me? It wasn’t me.” An odd look fills his eyes.
Sometimes the loneliest place on earth is in the midst of a crowd. But that’s okay. I’m here and that means something.
Class with Ava has me extra wired. Sitting next to her was intense, the smell of her hair when she moved, the way her lips puckered when she was pissed at me, and those eyes—don’t even get me started. I don’t like the heightened emotions she brings out in me, how she has this ability to goad me with just a look.
She’s devastatingly beautiful, although I don’t think she knows it. There’s no fake there. No expensive perfumes. No makeup except for those lips. Maybe it’s the way she smiles, just a little curve when she’s amused, her lips pouty and full.
He opens his mouth and then closes it. “What?” I ask. “Nothing.” “What?” I snap. He grimaces. “You really should stay away from me, Tulip. You shouldn’t have sat next to me. I don’t want to be your friend.”
“Let me do it.” “I don’t need you to help me, okay? I can save myself. Been doing it all my life.” “I know you can save yourself.”
Knox Grayson never paid me much attention in the years I went here, and the truth is, I’m a bit discombobulated by his nearness—in class today, in the office, and right now. I turn and we’re just…staring at each other. More of that stupid tension rises.
“No, but I was ready. I would have done whatever it took to keep her away from me.” “Fierce little thing.”
Well, well. My anger stirs. He has the nerve to look at me as if he wants me, yet he called me a slut? Out of everyone here, he should have believed me.
He’s still holding his wrench, and his face…it’s not shuttered this time. In fact, it’s layered in emotion as he watches me with Wyatt. “Take care of her at that dorm, will you?” he says to him. “She’s in the best of hands,” Wyatt murmurs.
It’s not a bad end to the day at all. But tomorrow will be here soon, and I’ll have to start all over again.
Bullshit. If you’re hot for her, just bang her like you do every other girl and get back to being our teammate.”
I’m losing it, but I can’t seem to stop myself from caring. I’ve kept this anger and resentment bottled up for months, thinking I had control of it, but since she came back…fuck.
Figure I’ll have one to match. I lean over to him, keeping my voice low. “I mean it. Say her name again and I’ll fucking hurt you.” Anger colors his face and he sneers but can’t hold my gaze. That’s right, asshole. Be scared.
I look around at the artwork, the plush furniture I can see inside the classrooms, the excited faces of teachers as they greet each student. I can’t be his real mom, but I can do this. I can give him a good start. “Thank you.”
Water drips down his cheek to his tan throat, slipping inside his tight black shirt. He looks up at his reflection and grimaces, his fingers trailing down his face. “Ugly, stupid, asshole motherfucker.” I hear him grunt. “You can’t have her.”
“You can’t be in here with me,” he grinds out, his hands on my upper arms. His grip is hard enough to bruise, but I don’t care. I wrench out of his grasp and reach out to his face. He thinks he’s ugly? Never.
He shudders. “You don’t even like me. I frighten you.” “I’m not so sure about that.”
“No,” is ripped from him. “You want me.” “No.” “Liar.”
I just… I just… His scarred face. His deep, stormy eyes. Something twisted and dark that resides in me yearns for him. And I don’t even know when it snuck up on me. I just know the real me gravitates to broken people. Their secrets. I wonder what mysteries made him like this, what or who gave him this fragmented heart, the fractured sense of how he sees himself with that slash on his face.
He misunderstands. I’m not sad for what I just did. I’m sad because he’s out of my reach. He swallows. “Shit, don’t break up with him. I shouldn’t have said that. He’s good. He’ll treat you right.” Then, “Just stay away from me,” he pushes out, his voice gravelly and rough as he puts his back to me, and I sense him gathering himself, fortifying, building up his force field.
“Knox?” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “What?” “You’re not ugly. You’re beautiful.” He pauses but opens the door and slams it shut.
“She only got to live there with him for six months out of the year—then she had to go back to her mother. To me, it sounds like their relationship couldn’t have been that solid.” “So you do remember.” I let him hear the satisfaction in my voice. “And as far as being solid, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Did you miss me when I was gone?”
He grunts. “Really? No one wanted them to be together. None of the gods approved. Who’d love the king of the underworld?” “The right person.” He inhales.
How… He smirks. “Your mouth is open.” I close my lips. “You’re so weird. I never thought you ever paid any attention to my comings and goings. Also I never told anyone that.
“Someone pissed me off.” “Obviously, but who would dare?” I make a pretend gasp and clutch my heart. He huffs out a laugh. “You keep surprising me, Tulip.”
watching. I sit for a full five minutes, thinking about my response, and I notice that the longer I pause, tapping my pen on the note, the more antsy he becomes, legs bouncing under the table, his fingers drumming against the desk. Still holding his note, I dart my eyes over at him. He’s watching me. Carefully. Intently. Little side glances. Almost grudgingly, as if he really doesn’t want to.
Standing there by the fire, with Tawny by his side, he pressed two fingers to his lips and sent the touch to me. With twenty-twenty vision, without the alcohol clouding me, I saw him, saw the slow, regretful way he tore his eyes off of me and Chance.