“Just checking to see where you were. You didn’t show up to the cafeteria today.”
I blinked. This felt oddly like caring, and the guys didn’t do that anymore. “Nope. Just prefer the library. You can run back to Rogue like a little bitch and tell him that I’m not airing out all the Heir secrets for the world to know,” I said with a smirk before checking my watch. Luis and I had English in seven minutes. “Actually, I’ll let you walk me to class since you’re already here.”
With Luis watching me, I unscrewed the cap of the juice blend that my mama’s nutritionist made for me and downed it whole, wincing past the nasty vegetable taste.
“That’s your lunch?”
“Yep. Thanks to your dumbass Junior Debutante scheme, Mama wants me to lose six pounds by December.”
Luis didn’t respond, but I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. But instead of being the compassionate boy I once knew, he ignored my words. He bent over and grabbed my messenger bag on the floor and began leading me out of the library.
“So are you guys claiming me now?” I asked, noticing how the other Smith Academy students blatantly stared at us.
“Nope.”
I huffed out a breath. “Then why are you carrying my bag? Y’all are a bunch of confusing motherfuckers, you know that?”
At that, Luis smiled before pushing me against the lockers with his hands on my shoulders. He blocked me from view of the rest of the school with his body, caging me in with his arms. “You’re getting pretty cocky, Scar. I’d hate to have to remind you what happens when you go against the Heirs. You’re just going to get hurt.”
I saw the challenge in his stare, then let my gaze fall to his lips. Lips that I knew had been the talk of the school ever since he kissed Allison Newport at the playground in fifth grade. “Maybe I like going against you all, Luis. Maybe I like a little pain.”
His eyes darkened, and I leaned up to close the distance. Time seemed to slow. My heart was as destructive as the tornado that touched down outside of town last summer.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” I whispered, before leaning in and trailing my tongue along his bottom lip. Luis shuddered at the contact, and when I knew I had him where I wanted him, I shoved at his chest, just as the bell rang for class.
I smirked up at him. “Come on, Salvador. Don’t want to be late.”
Chapter Seventeen
I don’t know how he’d done it, but Rogue Kelly got me a private class with the best dance teacher in Savannah, right at the peak of debutante season. The junior cotillion ball was a big deal, and finding a dance instructor this late in the game was near impossible. Most had a waiting list a mile long, but I guess an Heir’s influence had no boundaries.
The only problem? The instructor was a total dick.
All I’d heard for an hour was barked orders and putdowns like: “Again!” and, “Keep that neck straight!” and my personal favorite, “Be a swan, not a shit-faced sloth!” He danced circles around me, and even though I had the muscle control of a well-trained gymnast, with dance experience of my own, it made no difference. According to him, nothing I did was right for the ballroom.
When my hour was up, the dance master sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Sorry?” I said with a cringe. I hadn’t thought I was that bad. I’d taken ballroom dancing before, but apparently, he thought differently. With my apology, he just straightened his pink leotard and flounced away with a, “I can’t even look at you anymore. You’ll be the talk of the cotillion with those moves. And not in a good way, sugar.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered as I wiped the sweat off my forehead.
I sat against the wall of mirrors and yanked off my heeled dancing shoes before stuffing them into my bag. My feet were killing me, all of my blisters had split open, and I had to come back in two days. Apparently, I needed all the help I could get before the cotillion. I didn’t like that he’d made it his personal mission to torture—I mean teach—me.
Savannah’s debutantes were renowned. It was a huge thing, talked about all over the state. There were lesser known