Since Sarah doesn’t like anyone in her space, she kicks me out with a chocolate smoothie and a ruffle of my hair.
I lounge by the pool with my sketchpad in hand. My lips purse and my brows scrunch together as I stare at what I spent the last thirty minutes sketching.
Levi.
The lines are a mere draft, but it’s his outline. It’s his side profile and those merciless, pale blue eyes.
I can’t believe he’s the first actual sketch I made in freaking months. I’m about to rip the paper when a familiar voice calls.
“Hey, bugger!” Dan’s footsteps sound from the pool’s door. I thought he had late practice today. He must’ve ditched after I texted that I wasn’t coming to school because I’m sick.
Best friend ever.
“Thank God! I’ve been dying of boredom.” I throw the sketchpad on the chair and jump up. “You better be ready for some Viking marathoning and me kicking your arse at pool.”
Dan winces, stopping not far from the door. My eyes widen when the other figure strolls ahead of Dan.
His light, devil eyes twinkle and his lips curve in a smirk. “I’m game.”
15
Astrid
I’m not playing this game anymore. Stop dragging me to the chessboard.
* * *
The last person I expected to see standing in my house is only a short distance away.
He’s wearing his uniform in that nonchalant, tousled way and of course, no tie. I hate how stupid tall he is and how that tugging starts at the bottom of my stomach.
No, not tugging.
It’s a rolling wave of anger about to crack me open.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I bite out.
“Daniel mentioned you were sick,” Levi says ever so casually while advancing towards me in predatory strides. “I came to wish you better.”
More like to ensure that he got me where he wanted.
“Get out.” I motion at the door, throwing a glare at Dan.
I can’t believe he brought the devil to our little heaven without a warning.
Worst best friend ever.
“Woah. Slow down, Astrid.” Dan gives a lopsided smile and offers Levi an apologetic one. “She’s not usually like this, Captain.”
Sure thing, Dan. I’m not usually bitchy with the one who’s out to destroy my life.
I don’t know if I want to pull his hair or kick him in the balls for bringing Levi here like we’ve been long lost friends.
Dan reaches me in a few strides and I jab him in the side, earning a groan. He smothers my hair back and whispers. “Be nice. My game depends on it.”
I want to tell him and his game to go suck it, but I’m not that type of bitch. My problem with Levi has nothing to do with Dan. I don’t want him to be the collateral damage of whatever war we’re having.
Besides, Dan wouldn’t have brought him if he knew what happened last night.
Or at least, I hope so.
The reason I didn’t tell him is because I feel cowardly and weak.
“I’m going to see if Sarah has some smoothie left.” Dan pats my shoulder one last time and saunters inside before I can stop him.
Damn Dan. I hope Sarah doesn’t have any smoothie for him.
It hits me then that I’m all alone with Levi.
The same Levi who terrorised me yesterday.
My courage from earlier withers away, and I’m back to the helpless fool from yesterday.
I gulp, doing everything in my might to avoid his gaze, despite the holes he keeps digging in my face.
“Your father didn’t tell you not to mingle with Cliffords?”
“I don’t have a father,” he says casually. “But my uncle warned me.”
“Then why didn’t you listen?” I peek at him through my lashes.
His eyes spark with pure trouble. “I’m not good at listening to warnings.”
“Then be my guest.” I can’t help the sarcasm in my voice. “I’d love to see Dad’s reaction when he finds you here. We have Grandfather’s shotgun that hasn’t been used in a long time.”
I flop on the lounge chair and snatch a cold bottle of water. My gaze gets lost in the blueness of pool, pretending he doesn’t exist.
Easier said than done.
His presence fills the space and ripples with something uncomfortable and pulling at the same time.
“Harsh, princess.”
A shadow looms over my sitting position, blocking the afternoon sun and sucking the air from my vicinity like a grim reaper.
My gaze slides up his body to the pressed uniform trousers with both hands in his pockets. His messenger bag is flung across his broad chest and rests on his