Sweat rolls down my back beneath the training leotard. I jab and duck and parry, ignoring the pains both physical and emotional that are spreading through my body.
Salvatore charges at me—but it’s a trick. He leans into my dodge and manages to kick my feet out from under me.
We crash over on the mat, him braced over me, straddling my thighs. He snatches one wrist and lets our hips align.
A glint dances in his eyes. “Just where I wanted you. Are you enjoying yourself yet?”
The shift of his hips wakes up a starker flare of longing. It is good—it’s exactly where I need him?—
No.Nothim.
With a growl, I twist my torso hard enough to flip him off me. I roll free and spring up.
As Salvatore clambers to his feet, I give myself a little shake and make a show of brushing myself off.
“We’re done,” I say, cold and firm.
This isn’t the man I fell for. I’m not going to be this Salvatore’s toy.
His cocky grin still hasn’t shifted. “Oh, I don’t think so, a stóirín.”
He takes another step toward me. Radiants help me, I don’t know how much more of this I can take without cracking.
But he just isn’t going to stop, is he? Not unless I make him.
With a bittersweet jolt of inspiration, the right words leap across my tongue. I deliver them with an acidic edge. “If you want to impress me so badly, why don’t you go cook me a nice lunch instead?”
The snarky remark probably sounds a bit odd to anyone following our fight, but for the first time, Salvatore’s expression stutters. The emotion that flashes through his eyes isn’t remotely playful.
Even in my reality, even after we’d been together for years, he was sensitive about people discovering that interest of his. Both his parents acted like cooking was servants’ work, and I’d imagine an awful lot of our classmates share their views.
He recovers enough to toss out a retort. “I think you’re the one who should be heading to the kitchen, Devine. And getting pushed up against a counter there.”
The response isn’t as cocky as before, though. A trace of new uncertainty lingers in his gaze.
I’ve rattled him.
I give him a sharp little smile I hope will add to the effect. “Thanks, but I’m good in both departments.”
I manage to catch Mia’s eye, and thank all the gods, she’s taking a quick water break. Striding over, I hold out my hand. “Swap partners?”
Anyone would be better than continuing with Salvatore.
Mia perks up, which makes me feel a bit guilty that I didn’t partner with her to begin with. Behind me, Salvatore mutters something that sounds vaguely obscene, but he finally lets me go. I exhale slowly and position myself across from my friend.
It’s too fucking hard staying away from these guys. Let me get out of here and find my ticket home before I ruin someone’s life all over again.
Twelve
Asher
Six years since I transferred to Luminary Academy, it still feels strange walking over to the sister school where I spent nine years before that.
The Beacon Preparatory campus is only a block south, but the difference couldn’t be starker. Rather than stately brick buildings, structures of dull gray concrete rise from the ground around the central field, where the paint is flaking off the goal posts at either end. Half of the grass has given way to muddy patches, because no one with the money to re-seed the space thinks it’s worth the expense.
Crossing the street, I veer toward the cracked pavement of the parking lot that leads to the senior building’s front steps. Several Beacon students are hanging around the edges of the lot in tight clusters. Their skeptical gazes take in my Luminary uniform, eyes narrowing.
My skin prickles. I resist the urge to tug at my sweater’s sleeves, to protest that it doesn’t make me any different from them.
