“Prom stuff,” I say vaguely, shrugging it off to avoid questions about the reasons for my scowl.
“Uh-huh.” Deshaun leans over to get a closer look. “And I’m guessing Harper was part of thatprom stuff? The two of you both seem in weird moods today.”
I look over my shoulder, and sure enough, she’s materialized out of nowhere.
Wordlessly, Harper seats herself at the opposite end of the table; I watch her organize her lunch. Container of fruit, sandwich, cookies—and a bite-sized candy bar. Neat. Orderly. In a pink container, of course.
“I’m officially done decorating.” She glowers in my direction.
Ouch. The words are meant for me, but I don’t react, bending my head to fixate on my lunch until Gabe reaches for my hair, plucking at the gel, which I only applied for Maddie.
I slap his hand away, agitated. “Stop touching me.”
He grins, but Macy isn’t laughing. She frowns, chewing on an apple as her gaze bounces between me and Harper like she’s watching a tennis match.
“You two good?” she asks, swallowing. “Loop me in.”
Harper stabs her food with unnecessary force. “Nothing. I’mgreat.”
I scoff, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah. Totally—never been better.”
“Uhhh…” Marcus finally looks up from his phone, brows raised. “What’s up with you guys?”
“Nothing,” I say at the same time Harper mutters, “Askhim.”
Great. Perfect. Just what I fucking needed—Harper making athingout of this Maddie Miller situation in front of everyone because her feelings are hurt and we haven’t had time to hash it out in private.
God, I am a dumbass.
My food tastes like cardboard as I take my first few bites, tuningout my friends as they talk about nothing. The gym. Working out. Ordering our caps and gown. Shit like that.
“You coming with us?” Deshaun interrupts my thoughts.
I steal another glance down to the end of the table. Harper hasn’t said much at all since she sat down, quietly absorbed in eating her lunch.
“I’m down.” I have no idea what he’s referring to but agree to go, stuffing half a sandwich into my mouth.
Gabe grins. “Sweet.”
“We’ll get a good warmup in, some weight training, and maybe hit the treadmills at the end. Gotta stay fast for games.” Parker stretches, then flexes his biceps.
Then.
Then the worst possible thing happens.
From the corner of my eye I spot Maddie Miller walking toward our table, long legs striding assertively. Blond braids swinging. Cell phone clutched in her hand.
Determined look on her face.
She’s on a mission, and she’s heading toward me.
My stomach drops into my ass.
The cafeteria noise dims, my focus zeroing in on her like a heat-seeking missile, and I suddenly feeltrapped.
Harper notices—of course she does—and her posture stiffens, her forkful of pineapple stilling midair. I can feel the shift in her energy before Maddie stops right beside me at the table, a little too close, and smiles—a slow, calculated smile that sends my already ruined day plummeting to the pits of hell.
“Hey, Easton.”
