Because Ava—God bless her delusion—has convinced herself that the ferret belongs to her. As if it wasn’tgifted to me.
As if she didn’t just swoop in one day and cradle the damn thing like it was her firstborn.
Liam makes a “yikes” face that tells me everything I need to know. “I’m lucky to still be here,” he mutters, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair.
“I can’t believe you left poor Percy in your locker for almost the entire school day and brought him to school.” Christian gives him a pointed look through his glasses.
I glare at him. “You seriously put him in a locker?”
Liam groans. “It was either that or risk him getting crushed to death in my bag.”
Will raises a brow, looking far too entertained. “Aw, are you nervous for it? That’s adorable.”
I shoot him a flat look. “Try saying less. Or better.”
Will smirks, leaning forward. “No, really, this is a touching moment. Kai Steele—actuallyworriedabout his little fur baby. It’s beautiful.”
I reach forward, and my fingers close around Will’s jaw, tilting his face toward mine so that they’re only inches away.
His smirk only widens.
“You’ve got an awful lot to say lately,” I murmur, dragging my thumb lightly across the edge of his jaw. “Didn’t I tell you to shut it?”
Will huffs a laugh. “Someone’s cranky.”
“Cranky?” I repeat, keeping my hold for another second, maybe two. Then I let go, patting his cheek once before leaning back. “How quaint.”
He straightens his collar where I creased it, eyes still fixed on me, and I raise my eyebrows at him knowingly.
The look on his face almost makes me want to reach forward again—just to see if he’d let me.
Or stop me.
Or neither.
Liam groans and slumps backward on the couch, draping an arm over his face. “You two are making me deeply uncomfortable.”
Christian rolls his eyes. “Good. Now you know how the rest of us feel every time you talk.”
I rub my temples, exhaling sharply, I’m about to reply, until I seeherand the words get lost in my mouth.
Adeline walks into the caféteria, standing in between two other taller girls. Beatrice Mallory, whose family my father even invited for dinner once. I believe they work in the fashion industry. They have for years as far as I know, and so naturally they hold a decent reputation around here.
Lilia Harris, though, is a name I know for one reason, and one reason only.Will.We went to prep school together for a while, and aside from me, she was probably one of the only people who wasn’t afraid of him or didn’t find him weird. In fact, she seemed oddly taken with him.
He, to my knowledge, did not reciprocate the addict’s affection, or for that matter, any other girls’ in our year, who only began to approach him (albeit with extreme caution) after he got older and grew out of his awkwardness.
I, however, have always acknowledged the fact that he doesn’t see people in the same way most of us do, romantically speaking.In all honesty, I’m not sure he even sees them as people. Under the façade, he regards them with utter disinterest, if anything.
Not that it matters. Or that I particularly cared to investigate much beyond that.
I remember what it was like for him back when I met him though, not only at home but at school too. He didn’t have any friends at all—people would call him weird and all sorts of other names. He came across like he didn’t care, but I know it bothered him that everyone thought he was different.
He always has been. But that’s precisely what makes him so special.
In his mind. In his movements. In his tastes.
Even the way he dresses.
