“He’s hot all the time,” another sighs.
A third elbows her and nods toward me, and the girl turns scarlet. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
I almost say,It’s fine. He’s not mine,but the words catch in my throat. My eyes find Carrson again.
He’s bloodied, triumphant. His chest rises and falls with ragged breaths.
He doesn’t look at the brothers. Doesn’t celebrate.
He looks up at me.
Right through the window.
Like he knew I was watching all along.
The worst part?
I don’t look away.
Chapter nineteen
Carrson
I’m practically bouncing as I walk into my bedroom that night. In the middle of a fight, I’m calm and focused, but after it’s done, the adrenaline hits and it’s the sweetest high. It leaves me shaky, elated, like I want to pump my fist at the sky and dance around. Like I want to high-five strangers and maybe tackle someone just for the hell of it.
I pass a brother, Tyson, leading his Bonded up the stairs to their bedroom.
“Nice job today, Carrson,” the woman, a pretty blonde, calls out.
“Why, thankyou.” I mock bow, and she giggles, blushes.
I can’t miss how Tyson tucks her into his side and hurries her up the stairs, far away from me.
Like I’m a threat.
Which I totally am.
Chuckling, I head for my room. Well, our room now.
Laurel’s already there, curled on her side of the bed with a book in hand, looking way too unaffected for my liking. She doesn’t even glance up. I just spent the afternoon bleeding and brawling in front of half the goddamn school, and she’s acting like I went out to water the plants.
“I’m home,” I announce grandly, pausing in the doorway.
“Oh, hey.” She stares at the pages.
I flop onto the bed beside her with zero grace, like a child. I roll onto my stomach, hands folded under my chin, and ask sweetly, “How was your day?”
“Fine.” Flip. Another page.
“See anything interesting?”
Her eyes flick to mine, hold, then drop back to the page. “Not really.”
Infuriating woman. Beautiful and infuriating.
For the hundredth time, I ask myself why I like her. She’s mouthy. Closed off. Stubborn. Challenges me at every turn. Most days I don’t know if she wants to stab me or straddle me.
So why the hell do I keep orbiting like she’s the sun?
