His already thin lips tighten, becoming almost nonexistent, his grip crushing my wrist bones and twisting my skin. Pain shoots up my arms, making me wince, but I refuse to make a sound.
When the pressure only increases, my chest heaves, and panic rings in my ears.
The bathroom door swings open, and a breeze hits my skin.
“Girl, I heard about that over a month ago already.”
Two girls pause mid-step as the door shuts behind them. Their lips part to form small circles, eyes widening while they take in the sight of us.
“Um, okay,” one of them eventually says. “We’ll come back later.”
They disappear before the last word is fully out.
I look back at Carter, whose eyes keep darting to the now-closed door. My expression remains bored, but my words are clipped. “Unless you want everyone at school to witness your embarrassingly clingy side, get the hell off me.Now.”
He hesitates before complying.
Rubbing one of my sore wrists, I turn and grab the doorknob. We’re both breathing a little harder than normal as we exit the bathroom together, my neck and palms clammy.
Almost immediately, whistles bounce off the walls. People stare with mixed expressions, some confused, others horrified, most disinterested. Some of the guys tip their chins at Carter, giving him the signature nod of approval. I can’t see Carter’s expression, but I’m sure he’s playing it off like we just fucked around.
Whatever. As long as he’s not touching me, I genuinely don’t give a crap.
The instant I turn right to head to bio, my gaze collides with smooth, warm whiskey. Easton’s best friend Zach talks animatedly beside him, but just like last time, he’s watching me. Resting a shoulder against his locker, one ankle loosely crossed over the other. I’d be convinced of his indifference if it weren’t for the tension locking his jaw tight and the dark edge spreading like ink from his pupils as he drags his focus from me to Carter, then back again.
My heart pulsates against my rib cage as I walk closer.
Closer.
Having Easton’s attention on me is what I imagine a long pull of nicotine feels like to someone trying to quit smoking. It’s a shaky buzz and a serene calm all at once. It’s comfort wrapping around your lungs, with just enoughsqueezeto threaten your air supply. It’s home and longing, because all you want is to live in it, but you know you can’t.
“So, you and Carter again, huh?” Zach says, stopping me just as I’m about to pass them.
He looks past me, to where I assume Carter lingers with his loser friends, then runs a hand through his brown curls. Zach’s blue eyes aren’t like Carter’s. They’re light and boyish, friendly.
“What’s a guy like me gotta do to get you to go out with me?”
I arch a brow, flicking my gaze to Easton, but he doesn’t look back at me. He’s too busy focusing on my wrists. His jaw works back and forth, a muscle in his throat twitching. I follow his stare to the red fingerprints on my skin. They’re more obvious than I realized. Shit.
Clearing my throat, I adjust the strap of my backpack. “Is that a serious question?”
A small smile toys with Zach’s lips. “Why not? I’ll take you on proper dates and everything.”
I laugh. “I don’t date Easton’s friends.”
“Ah, come on. It’s not my fault my best friend’s your brother ... -ish. I’m a lot better than that asshole Carter, right?”
Easton’s gaze slides up my arm, my neck, landing on my eyes. Examining, scrutinizing. Flooding me with warmth like a heater in my core.
Staring right back, I calmly challenge, “Who says I don’t like assholes?” I trace the red marks around my wrist sensually, my fingernails caressing them. “Maybe I get off on dirty words and rough hands.” I grab Zach’s hand, trailing a finger down his arm, then his palm. “Being manhandled.”
I don’t see his reaction.
Because he’s not the one I’m paying attention to.
A shiver runs over my body when Easton’s eyes darken to depths deep enough to consume me. He tears his gaze away, but I don’t miss the subtle flare of his nostrils.
A bell rings.
