chatty sort of guy. He also appears slightly pale, as if he’s sick. Maybe he is, but I don’t ask him about it or his sudden quietness, since I’m being equally as quiet.
When we reach the car, Jax is on his phone, so I take the opportunity to slip by him and climb into the car. Zay is sitting in the driver’s seat and, like yesterday, he has on a black hoodie with the hood pulled over the top of his head. His hands are resting on top of the steering wheel, so I can see that his knuckles are a bit scraped up. The wounds look fresh.
“Did you have another temper tantrum last night or something?” I drag out my sassy attitude—my wall to protect myself—and greet him with a smirk.
He looks at me, a grin curling at his lips as he lifts one of his hands from the steering wheel. “You talking about these, princess?”
Great, we’re still on that whole princess nickname thing.
My eyes instantly travel to the scar on his jawline, just like the boy had in my dream. I wait for some sort of recognition to click, a sign that maybe it was a memory and not a dream, but not even a flicker of familiarity sparks from inside my brain.
What is wrong with me? Has my head finally just broke? Or do I know him? If so, does he remember me? I should ask him—I should—but a faint memory flickers at the back of my mind, one I’d almost forgotten about …
“Whatever happens, Ravenlee, don’t trust anyone,” my dad tells me. “Promise me you won’t. Promise me you’ll always keep your guard up. Who you are … it’s dangerous if anyone finds out.”
“You okay?” Zay stares at me like I’m a crazy person who’s about to go off the deep end.
I smash my lips together, desperately fighting back the urge to just ask, Do we know each other?
“I’m just peachy,” I manage to say in an even tone. Then I shove away the pain inside my head and scoot forward in the seat, changing the subject away from me. “Now it’s your turn.”
He stares at me, completely puzzled. It’s kind of a cute look for him, which is an interesting combination with how scary he looks. “For what?” he asks.
“To tell me what happened to your hands. Because I’m pretty sure you didn’t have those cuts when I left the house last night.”
“I didn’t.” His lips twist into a dark smile as he leans closer to me. “I spent the night using a liar’s face as my own personal punching bag.”
I eye him over. “Are you being serious or just messing with me?”
“Does it look like I’m being serious?” he asks with an arch of his brow.
“Yeah, but you always look that way. In fact, I think serious is all you can do with that intense face of yours. Well, that and glaring. You’re really good at that.”
Zay sears me a nasty look while Hunter lowers his head inside the cab to look at us, strands of his hair falling across his forehead.
“Dude, my BFF is so awesome and, like, super clever,” he muses with a smile, the paleness in his face no longer present.
I guess he got over whatever the heck was bothering him.
Behind him, Jax wanders off down the driveway, his boots scuffing against the dirt as he talks on his phone. He speaks too quietly for me to hear what he’s saying, and his face is a blank canvas, so I can’t even attempt to read him. Although, I doubt I could anyway.
Zay rotates forward in the seat again and mumbles, “Quit calling her your BFF.”
“Why?” Hunter asks with a twinkle in his eyes. “That’s what she is.”
“No, she’s not.” Zay pierces him a firm look.
Hunter keeps on grinning, but I swear I detect the slightest falter in his almost constant happiness.
“There are no rules against me being BFFs with our little raven,” he declares.
“Dude, you guys really need to stop calling me yours,” I interrupt with an eye roll.
Hunter casts a playful grin in my direction then looks back at Zay. “It’s so cute that she actually believes she isn’t ours now.”
Zay thrums his fingers against the top of the steering wheel, seeming worked up about who the hell knows what. “She needs to quit being ridiculous. She jumped; therefore, she belongs to us now, whether she likes it or not… whether we like it or not.”
“I don’t belong to anyone.”