Safely trapped inside my phone, he’s far easier to handle without the overwhelming flood of sensation his physical reality unleashes.
He really is the most spectacular looking boy. If circumstances were different, I can easily imagine being as smitten with him as Clare is with Wilder.
But things aren’t different.
I click the phone off and curl up in bed. A dozen dreamy adventures slowly play in my head as I edge closer to sleep, every starring character wearing Zane’s face, a tease playing around his mouth and warmth turning his blue eyes azure until everything unspools into the nonsensical images of sleep.
Tuesday morning,I go on a Dahlia hunt, tracking her down to a corner of the common room. She’s deep in conversation with a boy from the year below; an eye-catching mix of dark curls, sleepy eyes, and biceps straining the seams of his shirt.
Judging from her rapt expression, she’s fully aware of Wilder, arms-crossed, glaring at her from the other side of the room.
Not wanting to intrude on her fun, I hang back near the door, waiting until the boy saunters away before making my way across to her.
“Hey,” I say, excruciatingly shy. “I’m Avon and you don’t know me, but my mum owns the salon you posted about yesterday. I just wanted to say thanks. It really meant a lot to her and putting it on your account was so thoughtful.”
She breaks into a smile that instantly banishes my nerves. “Any time.” She tosses her head, fluffing out the curly blonde strands with new highlights catching the sunshine from the corner window. “And you don’t need to thank me. I love this style so much; I probably would’ve posted something even if I hadn’t been paid.”
Her eyes open wide, twinkling with mischief as she theatrically covers her mouth with one hand.
“Oops. I wasn’t meant to tell you about Zane bribing me at triple my usual rate.” Then she winks. “But I know you won’t spill the beans since you’re also immune to his royal charms. You should sit with me one lunchbreak and we’ll set up an anti-royal club.”
I’m left frozen in place, stunned as she saunters away, giving Wilder the finger and a wide berth. I stare after her in confusion for a second, then take a few steps, thinking I still need to thank someone and if Zane paid, it should probably be him.
But that’s insane.
He did something nice, and it coincidentally turned out to be a thing that both my mother and I benefited from, a lot, but if he told Dahlia to keep quiet about it, I shouldn’t thank him. That will just drop her into trouble.
My confusion from yesterday afternoon returns with a vengeance. I don’t understand his behaviour at all. Not the kiss. Not the kindness.
Still, at least this time, I’m on the winning side.
Best to enjoy the spoils and leave well enough alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AVON
For Wednesday lunch,Clare drags me to an indoor hockey game, stalking the socials of a sub from the rugby team while I sit beside her, happy that art is my next lesson, rushing to class the moment first bell goes.
The room is set with large tables, six students at each. I always take a spot near the front, not wanting to miss any of Mr Simmons’ words of wisdom.
“Today I want us to focus on a still-life,” he instructs, pinning a dozen reproductions across the whiteboard for inspiration or reference. “Choose anything at hand or, if you’re stuck, I’ll select something for you. Remember, you’re not drawing the object itself but the way the light interacts with it. Since it’s overcast, really look for how that mellows the highlights.”
I pick an apple from my bag, left over from lunch, and set it on the table while other students select from a large box of eclectic items, producing candlesticks and felt dolls and a hand-held fan.
“Mr Simmons?” Miss Murewa, the department head stands in the doorway. “We have a new student for you today.”
Zane steps forward, his gaze immediately fixing on me.
My mouth goes dry, the hairs on my arm raising with trepidation. His lips curve into a soft smile and I wrench my eyes away, staring at the apple like it’s my holy grail.
This is my space.
My favourite subject.
The last place I expect him to be.
I close my eyes, placing a hand against my abdomen. My emotions have stabilised since the party, but this is too much.
