on?
“Where’s Glitch?” Brooke asked, checking around.
“He had to go straight to class,” Cameron said before stalking past us.
We followed. “Really? He didn’t say anything.”
“I don’t see the new kid. Let’s just get you to science.” Normally, getting to class was not one of Cameron’s priorities.
The boys seemed to be lost in thought as they walked us to first hour. We stopped outside the classroom, and I turned to say good-bye to them. Well, mostly to Jared. I wondered if there was a chance I could see what had actually happened to him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked him, inching closer.
His smile faltered and he camouflaged any emotion behind an empty expression. “I’m certain of it.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
He crossed his arms at his chest. “No.”
I leaned forward and put my hand on his. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”
He raked his teeth over his bottom lip and stared intently. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. Then, with his beautiful mouth tilted up at one corner, a playful grin sparkling in his eyes, he asked, “Are you getting anything?”
I dropped my hand and rolled my eyes.
A deep laugh, soft and gorgeous, sounded in his chest.
“How do you always know?” I exhaled loudly and gave up. “Never mind.”
He took my jacket and pulled me closer to him. “You’re giving up?”
The world tumbled in my periphery, dissolved into nothing. “No.” Then when I could catch my breath, I said, “Never.”
“We need to get to class,” Cameron said, completely breaking the spell I was under.
We turned in unison to look at him. Mostly because he was standing really close.
Brooke stepped closer as well, shouldering between Cameron and Jared. “Are we in a huddle for a reason?” She glanced at each one of us in turn. “I don’t want to be left out of the loop.”
Jared’s mouth softened into a breathtaking grin. He reached over Brooke and shoved Cameron backwards. Not hard, just enough to let Cameron know he was not welcome.
But Cameron came back. He leaned closer and said, “I’m not leaving until you do, reaper.”
“I’ll see you later,” Jared said. “I’d hate for blondie to stroke.”
Cameron scoffed and stepped back, waiting for Jared to follow.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“Not until I know more.”
“Fine.” I shooed him away with both hands. “Get to class. History awaits.”
He laughed. “I don’t think Mr. Burke likes me.”
“That might change if you’d stop correcting him.”
He raised his hands helplessly. “Your history books are full of errors. I’m just trying to help.”
* * *
In science, the class was studying the effects of sugar on cellular structure. I was studying the effects of Jared’s presence on my nervous system. It was kind of scientific. Jared was the stimulus and I was the test subject. Oddly enough, every time the stimulus was presented, the test subject’s cells flooded with adrenaline. Clearly it was a valid test. I should publish.
But I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened exactly. It would take something very powerful to bring down Jared. He was almost indestructible. Who could do that? What could do that? And his behavior was different. To deny that would be infantile.
But still. That grin.
I was busy replaying that grin of his in my mind for the seven thousandth time when I felt a sharp jab from behind. I sprang to attention. Ms. Mullins was standing in front of the classroom, her expression questioning, her gaze focused directly on me.
“Um, yes?”
She smiled. “You’re right, Lorelei. At least someone studied.”
When she turned back to her slide show, I sank back and rolled my eyes in relief.
Brooke leaned forward from the desk behind me. “Nice save.”
“I’m going to pass out your papers now,” Ms. Mullins continued, “and based on the scores I saw last night, I’m going to present you with a prediction: I predict that at least eighty percent of the class is going to fail the test on Friday if it doesn’t study. These scores leave a lot to be desired.”
When she got to me, she looked down in disappointment. “You can do better, Ms. McAlister.”
I scrunched farther into my seat and took the paper. My grade wasn’t horrible. I wouldn’t be grounded for a 78. But I would get a good talking-to. Mostly from Grandma. She freaking loved A’s. But I’d had a horrid vision that day when I brushed against a senior with bulimia. Surely that counted for something.
“Score!”
Brooke, another A freak, must have aced the