I didn’t say anything else because I was falling in love with her. And I knew if I opened my mouth, it’d come pouring out. So, I just sat there, hand on her back, until her parents arrived. Then I left.
The weekend passed, but now it’s Monday—and all I can think about is picking up where we left off.
I wasn’t lying when I told Emma I wanted to lock us in my room. That thought crossed my mind more than twice. It's like every rational part of me short-circuits around her. And that kiss…
Hot. Soft. Addictive.
I need more.
I stalk the halls of Willow High like a predator, scanning the crowd for her messy blonde hair, paint-splattered clothes, and sharp green eyes.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Silas grumbles. He’s still pissed about what happened at the party.
“Why?” I ask, trying to play it cool.
“You’re more tense than usual.”
“Algebra test,” I lie.
“You’re good at math.”
“Didn’t study enough,” I say, lying badly.
The bell rings and school starts. But where the hell is she? We don’t share classes, just cross paths in the hall—and today, she’s vanished. What if her parents pulled her and Lauren out of school after everything? If that’s true, I swear I’ll kill Silas. This whole circus started because he can’t admit he’s into Lauren.
What an idiot.
At lunch, I sit with my brothers. There’s a group of girls hovering near Silas’s friends. I tune them all out. I’m busy scanning the cafeteria for one face.
Emma Green.
“Luca, you coming tonight?” Someone yanks me back to the table.
“Sorry, what?” I blink, dragging my gaze from nowhere.
My brothers laugh, shaking their heads—they know I wasn’t listening.
Victoria’s the one talking. We’ve shared classes. She’s cute and smart enough; we went out a few times. She leans forward, chin resting on her hand, eyes bright with expectation. “Movie night,” she repeats. “You in?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I shrug, already glancing away, letting my arm drape lazily over the back of the chair.
“Luca…” she presses, tilting her head, lips pushing into a pout. “You always say no.”
Silas glances over my shoulder, his jaw tightening, eyes following something across the room. He only gets that look when Lauren walks by. I whip around, pulse jumping, hoping Emma’s there too—but nope. Nothing.
“Then stop inviting me,” I mutter, drumming my fingers on the table.
“Is he always like this?” Victoria asks Oliver, her brows knitting as she tries to laugh it off.
“Only with people who bore him,” Oliver says with a smirk, poking at his lunch with deliberate ease.
Everyone laughs—except her. Her smile falters, and she fiddles with her straw.
I’m not a prude. I’m just not wasting my time drinking from the same puddle everyone else does. Get it?
By the end of the day, I toss my car keys to Silas.
“Again?” he asks, one brow arched, already knowing.
