Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,159

Despite said wishes, Frankie and our ever-cheery Tamika seem to be getting awfully close, which seems to be a direct result of them playing opposite each other in the spring play a few months ago. I never did audition for Frankie’s senior-directed play, but he understood, what with my Arts club commitment among other things. Kelsey is also swarmed by the yearbook staff, with whom she’s gotten especially cozy over the spring. Apparently after one last amazing contribution involving the front cover, she won over the staff—and the school—and suddenly everyone at Spruce High wanted a yearbook. Sales have never been higher. Kelsey’s face beams with pride.

Of course we also see Hoyt, who arrives much in the same fashion as the theatre crowd: among a group of dateless jocks who just wanted to come and have fun, including Benji and Lee. Julio shows up with his on-and-off-again girlfriend Stacey, the pair of them having broken up and made up at least six times since the fall, and I make sure to acknowledge him with a respectful nod, which he returns. We might’ve had a rocky start—and that’s putting it lightly—but after helping me with the big display of my art on the outer gymnasium wall last semester that won Toby over, I now see Coach Strong’s athletes in a new light.

Toby and I soon find ourselves in each other’s arms when the DJ takes the energy down a notch for a slow song. And it’s these romantic moments I especially love, because all the noise seems to fade, Toby’s cute eyes are locked on mine, and we’re the only two people who exist. As we slow dance, I put a finger under his chin and gently guide his lips to mine, tasting him. Toby’s lips are perfect.

I’m the luckiest man in all of Spruce, to have been given one more chance by Toby to prove to him I can be all he wants me to be. But perhaps a better truth is, he gave me a chance to prove the same fact to myself: I am capable of more than I ever dreamed.

“So who’s gonna run the Arts club when we graduate?” asks Toby as he lays his head on my shoulder, swaying along with me to the romantic music—some country song I’ve never heard of and would never have dreamed of finding myself slow dancing to.

I smile against the side of his head where my cheek rests. “Oh, it’ll be kept alive, don’t worry. Mr. Hewitt more than assured me of that. I don’t actually think he realized how many students at Spruce High were craving such a creative outlet. Hell, even Marcus joined on the first day. That guy’s got a knack for color.”

“Speaking of: I think I finally picked a color.”

I lift my eyebrows in surprise even though he can’t see them. This has been an ongoing debate for weeks: the color he wants to paint our final project to present to my Arts club, the project that represents a culmination of a whole semester of our work. “Oh?”

“Yes. But … it’s probably going to be a no-brainer for you.”

“Golden yellow, like a moogle’s pompom?”

“Nope.”

“Dark purple, like a moogle’s bat wings?”

“Jeez, am I that predictable? It isn’t related to moogles at all. Nor to Dread Knight …”

“The blue of Sub-Zero’s martial arts uniform?”

“Nor to Mortal Kombat,” he finishes testily, then chuckles, lifts his head off my shoulder and smiles at me with dreams in his eyes. “I think your newest demon needs the deep, greenish-blue hue of the ocean behind him.”

I squint. “Blue. So I was almost right with Sub-Zero?”

“Greenish-blue. I just noticed that your demons are all in Hell. Maybe one of them realizes they rather prefer the sea view.”

I don’t see it. I try to picture my demon on a beach. I try to see the sand and the ocean waves, but all I see is my demon in a polka-dot swimsuit sipping from a drink with a tiny umbrella in it. “Nah, I don’t know,” I groan, unconvinced.

“C’mon. You won’t know if it’s a good idea unless I try.”

“But once you begin painting …” I start to say.

“Hey, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll do a beach, and if it still bugs you, we can turn it into an ocean of lava. All it takes is a little bit of red and that painting’s right back in Hell where you like it.” He grins, satisfied. “I … kinda bought the paint already.”

I smirk. “By