Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,61

something else, lifts one dubious eyebrow and changes directions. “Wait. You go to church?”

“Some Sundays, yeah,” I admit. “Not all of them. It depends on my mom’s schedule, and whether the stepdad sleeps in from a drunken binder the night before. Reverend Arnold has a gay son who sometimes leads the service. They take turns. Why do you look shocked?” I ask after biting off the end of my breadstick.

Vann swallows a mouthful of green bean mash, then shakes his head. “Didn’t take you to be a Godly guy.”

“I’m not really sure what I am. I guess in Spruce, you just kind of do what’s expected of you, to a degree.”

“See? That’s part of our problem.” Vann jabs his plastic fork at me. “Too many things are just accepted around here. Like the jocks running the school. Or art classes and clubs being canceled.”

“Oh, you heard about that? The arts program? My boss Mrs. Tucker said that has something to do with the mayor. That’s half the reason Nadine Strong is running against him, to change things around here. Allegedly. I don’t really pay attention to politics.”

“Things are going to change.” He bites his own breadstick.

I feel like Vann just assigned himself a mission: to be my big, brave bodyguard and personal escort. I guess that’s what he needs to do to feel a sense of purpose in this place. Still … “The way home from Biggie’s is pretty safe,” I point out. “I’m pretty sure I’ll—”

“You sure about that? Last time I checked, you were almost mauled with love in a mud pit by your own dog. Besides.” He lifts his eyes from his tray after stabbing an individual green bean with his fork. A moment passes. “I want to do it.”

I swallow. “You … want to do it?”

“Sure.” He keeps his eyes on me, as if waiting for something.

I study the look of silent, calm determination in Vann’s face while bombs go off in my heart. Something about the way he looks at me has my pulse picking up. If he walks me home every shift from Biggie’s like the big, jock-warding bodyguard he wants to be, does that mean he’ll stay over every weekend at my place, too?

I’m going to need a bigger bed. And a muzzle on my morning wood. “But you can’t repeat the first day.”

Vann squints in thought, his fork still skewering a single sad green bean. He lowers it back to the tray. “What do you mean?”

“The fight. With Hoyt and the jocks. Throwing yogurt across the cafeteria. We can’t do that again, even off school grounds. The last thing either of us needs is—” I sigh, then go for a more honest approach. “The last thing I need on my conscience is you getting two more strikes on my behalf. I don’t want you packing your bags and heading off to Fairview High because of stupid Hoyt.”

A moment passes where I’ve touched Vann with my words.

That moment shatters at once when he wrinkles his face up and spits back, “So you’d rather those butt-wipes run you over, beat you up one night after work, then gloat in the locker rooms with their buddies later on about how they owned your ass?”

Clearly I did not, in fact, touch Vann with any of my words. “I just want you to be smart about this. Careful. Think it through.”

“I’ve thought it through,” he retorts. “I think you’re the one who needs to do more thinking. About what matters to you. About how much you’ve put up with already. Look at you … and me.” He points his fork back and forth between us. “We’re eighteen-year-old seniors stuck at a hick high school. The world has shat on both our plates. It’s time we stand up to it. It’s time—”

“Did you just casually use the word ‘shat’ …?”

“—that we fight back, Toby. And …” His voice softens. “And I’ll show you how. You aren’t alone anymore. I care about you.”

I stare down at my tray, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. I think I’m trying not to blush. Or smile too big. Or cry. My emotions are all over the place, like Vann just tossed my heart into a blender and flipped the switch. “I care about you, too.”

“Good.” He stuffs the green bean into his mouth, satisfied.

A moment passes. The lunch room seems to be full of noise and chatter that, mercifully, seems to have nothing to do with us. I am suddenly