She throws a nervous look at Riley, then looks back to me. “I’m good. Thanks for helping me out.”
She means it; I can tell by the look in her eyes. If the guys weren’t here right now, maybe I’d be scoring another hot kiss. The idea makes me smile.
“Yeah, well, what are friends for, right?” I shrug and spin back around, calling over my shoulder, “Now, hurry your ass up…unless you want to be late to class.”
It feels weird talking to her that way. Walking off like I don’t really care if she follows or not.
Yesterday, I probably wouldn’t have.
But now I know.
And everything’s different.
#21:
A Highly Addictive Distraction
Christiana
I nibble my lip, pacing from my window and back to the wall. Lightly kicking the wall with the toe of my shoe, I wonder how much longer I can resist.
Why hasn’t Trey snuck over?
It’s Saturday morning. Right now, the Eton Wolves will be battling out the last ten minutes of their hockey game…and Trey’s not playing. It’ll be killing him. I figured he’d come over as soon as Kade and Riley left. I could be the perfect distraction for him.
The corridors are quiet for the moment. Dean Hancock came to check that I was in my room before heading for his office. I heard muffled chatter with Trey and then the sound of his shoes clipping into the distance.
That was a century ago and still Trey hasn’t surfaced.
I walk to my door, grab the handle and then force myself to back away. Trey probably hasn’t come over for a reason. He’s not a Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. If he wanted to be in my room, he would. Which means he doesn’t want to be here.
Is he pissed with me that I got him messed up in this? That he’s missing a game because the fight was my fault?
I close my eyes, hating the fact I’m obsessing over it.
I’m ashamed to say I can’t even remember what Ivan said to make me dump my food on him. I think he may have called me a pussy or something. Whatever it was, it pissed me off and I figured I might as well act like a guy and throw my food on him.
Do guys even do that?
Whatever. It humiliated him. I try to convince myself that the split second of satisfaction I got was totally worth it. But then he chased me down like a rabid dog.
And Trey came.
To save me.
The girl in me wants to swoon, but then I get annoyed when I think about the fact he probably wouldn’t have helped me at all if he didn’t know my true gender, which turns him from a hero to a sexist pig. Why should he fight for me when I’m a girl but not when I’m a guy?
I let out a frustrated curse and kick the wall again.
I’m not really annoyed about him standing up for me. I’m annoyed because he hasn’t snuck over. I’m annoyed because I shouldn’t even want him to come over.
I can’t stop thinking about him. Everything about him—the way he smiles, looks, tastes. It’s a constant tease in the back of my mind. I shouldn’t want to hang out with Trey Calloway! It’s too dangerous. The last guy I kissed was murdered. Would being near Trey put him in danger too?
I squeeze my eyes shut against the question, hating that it even popped into my head.
“Rybeck said this place was safe,” I mutter, trying to rid the dark thought from my mind and go back to being annoyed about inane things like the fact I caused Trey to miss out on hockey today. He’s probably stewing in his room, cursing my name.
Damn, I wish I could tell him my name.
I stomp to my window, then spin and pace back, jerking to a stop when I notice something new about my wall.
It’s split open.
I frown and walk over to it, kneeling down to figure out how one little kick can create such a clean, straight line. I push the wood with my finger and it rolls to the side.
“Huh.” I push it all the way across to reveal a tunnel-like gap. My mouth makes a big O and I pop my head into the dark space, reaching forward and feeling the piece of wood in front of me.
No way.
This must be how the guys have been sneaking in so easily!
My eyebrows dent into a sharp V and I crawl into the space, ripping the loose board aside and finding a solid desk. With a grunt, I use my shoulder to shove the heavy piece of furniture aside. I manage to knock over a chair and by the time I’m squeezing through the narrow wedge I created between the wall and the desk, Trey is rising from his bed.
Pulling off his headphones, he lets them dangle around his neck while he crosses his arms and gives me a pitiful head tip. “What are you doing?”
I struggle to my feet and brush the dust off my knees. “You sneak into my room through a hole in the wall? How long’s that been there?”
He shrugs and takes off his headphones. “A while. It’s the safest way to shift our stuff around. Before you came along we’d put everything into your room and never get busted during weekly room inspections.”