Trick Me Twice - Becca Steele Page 0,1

your face, thinking you’re so much better than the rest of us. Do I need to remind you of your place?”

Her heart-shaped mouth tightened into a thin line, and she stilled.

Tension grew heavy in the air as she held my gaze. Why wasn’t she backing down?

“Anything you want to say?”

A gleam of defiance entered her eyes, but she remained silent.

I released my grip, and she slumped backwards with a harsh exhale.

“Get out of my sight.” Stepping over her fallen books, I strode over to my locker and slammed my thumb on the fingerprint sensor. Behind me, I could hear Raine scrabbling around to pick up all her shit, and then she fled, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

D. Fuck.

“Let me help you with that.”

Standing next to one of the honey-coloured stone pillars outside the front entrance of Alstone High, I paused in the process of picking up my backpack. My stomach flipped at the low drawl, and not in a good way. I turned my head to see Carter Blackthorne, self-proclaimed king of the school, eyeing me with arrogant disdain. The football god with a muscled body that shouldn’t be allowed on an eighteen-year-old, expressive eyes that reminded me of autumn leaves, all browns and golds, depending on the light, and mussed, chocolatey hair falling across his forehead. He was undeniably hot, and he knew it.

Looks weren’t everything, though, especially as far as I was concerned. As well as his general arrogance, lately he seemed to get some kind of sick pleasure from tormenting me when no one else was around to witness it, and I had no idea why. I kept my head down and tried to stay out of his way, other than Mondays, when it was unavoidable.

Unlucky for me, we were sort-of neighbours, and ever since my uncle had divorced my aunt and left us to fend for ourselves more or less, she and Carter’s parents had struck up a friendship. They lived in a huge mock-Tudor mansion on the corner of one road, and my aunt’s and my smaller house was also on the corner of my road, meaning our houses were perpendicular to one another.

Carter seemed to take personal offence at their friendship—I guess we weren’t his kind of people, or something. Or at least, I wasn’t. I wasn’t rich or popular or outgoing, and I didn’t care about impressing the in-crowd. I remained invisible to most of them, but Carter? There was no avoiding him. Especially not now.

“I’m good, thanks,” I bit out, swiping my bag from the floor before he could grab it. My head was a mess, thanks to our earlier interaction at the lockers, but right now, my strongest emotion towards him was anger.

“What’s the matter, Laurent? Too high and mighty to allow me to carry your bag now, huh?”

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own bag, thank you.” I turned my back on him.

That was my first mistake. He spun me around, ripping the bag from my hands, inserting himself into my personal space without a second’s hesitation.

“It wasn’t a fucking question, Plain Raine.”

I set my mouth in a flat line, refusing to let him see how he affected me, even though every part of me trembled with awareness at his presence. His body heat made me suck in a breath, his hard muscles pressing into my breasts, his black-and-green football uniform a dark contrast against the crisp white of my school blouse. He was all hot and sweaty from his training, and that should’ve been enough to make me take a step back, but no. Instead I found myself breathing him in, mesmerised by the rise and fall of his chest, the way he stood tall and unyielding, feet planted on either side of mine, as he looked down at me.

His eyes. There was no warmth in those autumn depths as he took me in. “Come on.”

Sighing, I followed him towards the car park. There was no point in refusing.

Why? Why did he have to be my neighbour? Why did I have to be on his radar, now? All exacerbated by this completely ridiculous arrangement that meant I had to rely on him for a lift home—to say it was torture for both of us wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

It had all started last month, at the beginning of our final year at school. I’d mentioned in passing to my aunt that the after-school drama club was looking for students to work on costumes and set design. The next thing