Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,23

only allowed to invite one person each.

One senior used their only pass to invite me?

It had to be a mistake.

“Take it,” I told her.

There was no way I was going. This was a trap waiting to happen.

She held it for a moment and then sighed, handing it back to me. “As tempting as that is, you need this more than me.”

I crumpled it in my fist, about to toss it onto the floor of my locker, but Elle plucked it out of my hand and stuck it inside my jacket, slipping it in between two buttons.

“Line up!” our director called.

But I was swatting Elle’s hand away. “Stop, dammit,” I gritted out. “I’m not going.”

“In case you change your mind,” she chirped. But then she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I mean, what’s to worry about? It’s not like you’re really locked in with them.”

Them. She meant the seniors.

But when she said it, only four came to mind.

I side-eyed her, tossed Godzilla into my locker, and pulled out my flute.

• • •

“He’s so cute!” Elle said, but it came out in a little growl like he was a baby and good enough to eat.

I chuckled under my breath. I wasn’t sure which one she was talking about, but I could guess.

Will Grayson jogged down the court, dribbled the ball, and passed it to the center before racing ahead again, catching it, and shooting it straight into the basket.

It slipped through the net, the scoreboard added two points, and the crowd cheered. Michael Crist shot him a five and charged down the court, sliding in front of the other team’s forward and stealing the ball again, passing it to Kai.

“Whoo!!” everyone screamed around me.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, watching Will lift his shirt up and use it to do the same.

I couldn’t help my eyes falling to his bare stomach, the shorts making his skin look more golden with the ridges and dips tight and visible from here.

Heat covered my face again, and I looked away. Navy blue was absolutely his color.

I tried to space off like I did with the football games, but even when I wasn’t looking at the court, I wanted to look at it. Will Grayson was the best shooter we’ve ever had, better than Crist who was already in talks for an athletic scholarship he didn’t need for college next year.

Why wasn’t Will vying for one? How lucky it must be to have a talent like that to get you in the door, but then again, he didn’t need help opening doors, did he? He was probably a legacy somewhere, his future already planned.

The final buzzer blared, and I checked the scoreboard, making sure of what I already knew. We won. By a lot.

Too bad it wasn’t a real game. Just a little show before the regular season started in November.

Hesitantly, I raised my eyes again, finding him on the court. He talked to Damon Torrance as he wiped the sweat off his face, the wet hair at the back of his neck darker than the hair on top.

Then…he looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with me.

A smile spread across his face, like he knew I’d been watching him the whole damn time, and my face fell, heat rising to my cheeks.

Ugh. I looked away.

Such an ass.

Everyone descended the bleachers, the crowd dispersing, and I looked up at the clock, seeing it was just after seven. The hunger pangs had stopped, but my mouth watered for that granola bar, and now I could eat.

I wasn’t stupid enough to eat food from someone I didn’t know, though. Hopefully Martin left me alone so I could get some food in me before he went to town.

“Scott!” someone called.

I looked up to see Mrs. Baum, the director. I slipped through the crowd of students, walking over to her.

She leaned in. “Change and put your instrument away,” she told me quietly, “and then hurry back into the gym to help clean up the mess before the lock-in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I was grateful she didn’t shout that across the room. No one needed reminding that I was a work-study kid.

Heading for the locker room, I passed Elle as she talked to two of our band members. “Have fun tonight,” I told her.

She smiled. “Better hurry and make it out in time before they lock the doors.”

And then she wiggled her eyebrows.

“They don’t actually lock the doors,” I retorted. “It’s a fire hazard.”

She stuck her tongue out playfully, and I smiled,