His little looks—oh, how can I call them little? They’ve always been big looks, sweeping and brushing over me then dismissive, reducing me down to nothing but the air he breathes, the very dust motes that float around our hallowed school. But…tonight—God, it’s still the same night, right?—I forged ahead, swallowing my misgivings about him because Chance appeared in front of me. Beautiful, sweet Chance. My heart, which feels sluggish and weak, beats a tad quicker. He’s a Shark, in that inner circle, but he likes me. He’s been mine since this summer, little touches and slow kisses. We’re
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