What did Bedroom Window Guy give him?
I jump at the start of an engine. Tearing my gaze away, I fix it on the truck’s window instead—which is now rolled completely down. Like déjà vu, he’s looking right at me.
A narrow street separates us, but the dangerous glint in his eye is crystal clear. Shaggy dark hair falls over his forehead, shadowing his face. His stare holds me captive for so long my palms grow clammy, my throat dry.
Then he blinks, and I see something else too. Or maybe I feel it, along with the hot breeze tickling the back of my neck. Whatever it is, it’s surprisingly soft, and it gets under my skin, curling around my chest and drawing me closer like a magnet. But just as I roll forward again, he pulls his gaze away. Staring straight ahead, he takes off and disappears down the street.
I’m stunned in place for a minute. I still feel it, the pull on my chest. But something about this moment feels intrusive too. I’m just a leaf in the wind, passing a tree that doesn’t belong to me. With a final glance at the crying man, I swallow hard and push the pedals forward. Right now, with his face still buried in his hands, it just doesn’t feel right to disturb him. I’ll come back after school to make sure he’s okay.
I’m late.Reallylate.
I know it without checking the time because the lady at the front desk has told me three times. I feel bad for dampening her day, but sometimes, there are other things to see besides the ticking clock. Unfortunately, she doesnotagree.
After she gives me a map and my schedule, I follow her from the office to the corridor with my tail tucked between my legs. I wipe my palms on my skirt as I walk, but a wave of excitement flips my stomach as well. I’ve read about high schools in books, but the nearest public school to our house is forty miles away. I never thought I’d actually set foot in one.
The endless rows of lockers and closed doors distract me within moments, and it isn’t long before my shoulders relax. The excitement grows until it’s all I feel. The building is a little stuffier than I expected, but the thought of maybe snagging a window seat has me hopeful. After the lady leads me to the second floor, she opens the door to my first class.
And I take a deep breath.
Hunt
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I have to choke back a bitter laugh when she walks through the classroom door. The big man in the sky must be getting a kick out of this. Hell, what’s one more thing to add to thisawesomeyear, right?
I start to drag my gaze back to the textbook in front of me, but then the girl flashes an annoyingly bright smile at Mr. Lancer, and my eyes narrow on her instead. It’s the same look she gave me when I caught her staring through one of Mr. Everest’s bedroom windows.
Until her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Then the look was something else altogether.
She and the teacher talk for a minute, just low enough for her soft voice to be unintelligible. Mr. Lancer turns to grab something from his desk, and I don’t know why I’m still watching when she gathers all her blonde hair and twists it over one shoulder. It’s crazy thick, kinda wild. There’s a solid streak of light pink in the front, outlining the curve of her cheek and making her green eyes stand out even from here, and why the hell am I still looking at her?
I break my stare. Turn back to my book. Try to find my spot.
I don’t know why I’m letting her distract me, but I know I can’t afford it. There are two empty spaces in this room, so as long as she doesn’t steal the window seat right in front of me—
A backpack drops near my feet.
Keeping my head tipped toward the textbook, I drag my gaze up. She’s standing less than a foot from my desk, eyes fixed on her sandal as she leans forward and messes with one of the straps. With arip, the strap tears from the base of the shoe.
“Crap,” she mutters before removing both sandals. She bends, slipping them in her backpack.
Then she sees me.
My body tenses at the way she looks at me. She’s close. Real close. And she smells like coconuts.
She squints, tilting her head. “It’s you.”
“Excuse me.” Mr. Lancer coughs, but she doesn’t flinch. “Miss, um,”—he glances at the sheet in his hand—“Bluebell Everest.” Snickers erupt in the class, and I roll my eyes before returning to my book. But her last name,Everest, clicks, and I wonder if she’s Tim’s niece or something.
“Mr. Joshua Hunt?”
I look up, reluctantly meeting his gaze.
“I’m glad to see you two getting acquainted, but I’d appreciate it if it were done outside of my class.”
I focus on my textbook again and reread the last line. I know the girl’s still looking at me—her gaze burns straight through my damn skin—but after a second, her chair scrapes when she scoots it in.
“Hey.”
