He’s staring back at me. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something new in his eyes. Something I can’t quite name. His mouth curves up at one corner and I realize with a sinking feeling that I’ve just made a terrible mistake.
He looks… pleased.
“Mr. Patton!”
Professor Whitmore’s heels click rapidly across the stage as she swoops in to rescue me. She’s all business casual and bright smiles, the kind of authority figure who thinks every problem can be solved with enthusiasm and a color-coded spreadsheet.
“What awonderfulidea!” She beams at the audience and then at Raiden. “Having one of our star athletes involved in theChristmas celebration… It’s perfect! Mr. Blackwell, you’ll join the planning committee, won’t you?”
It’s not really a question.
Raiden leans back in his seat again. He shrugs one shoulder, casual as anything. “Sure.”
But he’s still looking at me.
And I can’t look away.
His gaze is steady, intense, like he’s memorizing every detail of my face. Like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to him all week. The corner of his mouth is still tilted up in that almost-smirk, and I have the sudden realization that I’ve just given him exactly what he wanted.
Proximity. An excuse to make my life even more miserable.
Oh God.
Damn it.
I’m screwed.
Professor Whitmore is still talking, something about teamwork and school spirit, but I’ve stopped listening. My heart is pounding in my ears, and all I can think is that I just volunteered to spend the next two weeks working side-by-side with Raiden Blackwell.
The one person on this entire campus I’ve been trying desperately to avoid.
He studies me with that slight head tilt, then lifts his chin in a quick, sharp motion, offering a subtle nod that dares me to look away.
2
Chapter 2
Two days later, I’m sitting on a cold stone bench in the campus courtyard, watching my breath fog in the December air while Karolina rants about Professor Oberin’s latest assignment.
“—and then she had the audacity to say my color theory was ‘derivative,’” she says, gesturing wildly with her coffee cup. “Derivative! Like every artist since the Renaissance hasn’t been derivative ofsomething.”
“Mmm,” I murmur, only half-listening. My mind is elsewhere. Specifically, on the slow-motion car crash that is my life right now.
“Earth to Artie.” Cameron snaps his fingers in front of my face. “You’ve been staring at that brick wall for five minutes. What’s going on?”
I sigh and slouch lower on the bench. “I’m clearly screwed, that’s what’s going on.”
“Because of Blackwell?” Stella asks. She’s perched on the arm of the bench, braiding her red hair with quick, efficient movements. “Come on. How bad could it be?”
“How bad? He’s going to make my life a living hell. You saw him in that auditorium. He wasenjoyinghimself.” I drop my head into my hands. “I basically challenged him in front of three hundred people. He’s going to destroy me.”
“Or,” Josh says thoughtfully, pushing his glasses up his nose, “he’ll actually help with the party and you’re catastrophizing.”
I look up at him. “Have you met Raiden Blackwell?”
“Fair point.”
Karolina sits down beside me and bumps my shoulder with hers. “Hey. Look at me.” I turn to face her. Her dark eyes are serious. “You’re going to pull this off. We’re all going to help you. And if Blackwell tries anything, we’ll handle it together, okay?”
