“I wouldn’t bother. It already stretches around the block.”
She changes position, putting her hands on the wall behind her butt and leaning her upper body slightly forward. Enough for me to have a clear view down her hoodie to see her bra.
I look because why else would she be flashing me? But when she follows my gaze, she straightens, cutting off the view.
Not wanting to be pegged for a perve, I wave at her clothing.
The worn jeans aren’t that way because of a carefully thought-out design. They’re ripped, material thinning at the knees in a way that sends my mind to crawl in the gutter. Her top isn’t much better, the lettering cracked and faded from a thousand washes until I struggle to read the logo.
“Is this what all the plebs wear these days or is it a special occasion?”
“Oh, sorry.” She shrugs her shoulders, gaze creeping the length of my body. Like I give a shit what she thinks about my clothes, but it’s cute to watch her watching me, eyes drinking their fill. “Left my ruby encrusted ball gown in my other corvette.”
“Yeah, I get that.” I lean closer to her, resting my right forearm on the wall above her head, plucking at her strings of hertop with my left hand, tightening the hood. “It’s a pain when you forget which car you drove.”
“Or where you parked it,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Is it at my country mansion or my inner-city apartment?”
“A brain box like you should be able to figure it out.”
She flashes a brighter smile. “Is that what I am?”
“Shit, yeah. I barely scrape through the classes even with help and here you are, winning scholarships.”
“The first guy to win passed it up.” She gives a bashful shrug. “I was a last-minute replacement.”
“Right, I didn’t realise. Obviously, placing second in the country is just your average, run-of-the-mill achievement. Lucky you’ve still got your looks, then.”
“Well, I don’t like to toot my own horn.” She tilts her head, glancing up at me from the side, fluttering her lashes, the scant light in the cloakroom fading out any imperfections so she looks like a tempting ingenue.
“Toot anything you like,” I tease her, pushing away from the wall to pump my biceps, enjoying the hunger in her gaze a second before she glances at an approaching pupil. Her eyes widen and she abruptly straightens, folding her arms over her chest.
“Lock?” Kari stands a few metres away, flanking me. Her voice is somehow both shrill and deathly low. “Would you like to introduce us?”
Be discreet.
How the fuck can I be discreet when she goes to the same school?
With growing reluctance, I understand I’ll need to back away. At least until I think it through. My father’s track record means my life is quite literally on the line.
“No.” I step back, aware of my surroundings again. Aware ofmy place. To George, I say, “Maybe stay out of my orbit from now on, yeah?”
I suppose it shouldn’t hurt that she eagerly agrees and slips a few steps to the side, looking to me for permission, then turning and walking swiftly along the hall when I nod.
With her instinctive nose for trouble, Kari sends me a scalding glare that suggests she’ll deal with me later, then hightails it after George.
I briefly consider going after them to forestall any nastiness, but don’t. Kari might gnash her teeth and issue a few threats, but she’s not a real danger to George. Not unless I tell her she can be. Bless the patriarchy.
It shouldn’t hurt that the girl can’t wait to get away from me. As she succinctly pointed out, she’s a pleb. Not worthy of drawing my attention.
It shouldn’t hurt.
CHAPTER NINE
GEORGE
My body isa tangle of mixed signals as I escape along the corridor. This morning, trying to force down a few bites of stale bread and call it breakfast, I thought if I bumped into Lachlan, I’d scream for help. I’d fight to get away. I’d turn and run for the nearest teacher.
Instead, I ducked inside, failed miserably at hiding in the cloakroom, and practically guaranteed the confrontation would happen when we were alone.
