Before I can say a thing, Oskar dives off his seat and onto the floor beside us. “Jesus.” I jump up to help him to his feet. “Aleks,” Oskar snaps. “If you wanted to sit next to Gabe, you could have said—you didn’t need to manhandle me. Only Lane gets to do that.” Then before I have a chance to catch up, Oskar shoves me into his vacated chair and drops into mine, looking entirely too proud of himself. I glance over at Sanden. “And you said I’m not subtle.”
