“I’m Zara McKinley. Don’t let me interrupt your attempts to get him.” I wave a hand at Ares, who appears amused.
“Fuck off.” The girl slides down from the desk, turning her full attention on me.
“Angela, back the fuck down now,” Ares growls.
“What? She started it.”
“She has a name. I know you know it,” he tells her.
“Seriously? You’re going to pickthatover me?” She points to herself.
“She’s family, so I’d be real careful how you talk about her,” Ares says.
Angela huffs as she stomps out of the classroom. I came in early, wanting a break from people for five minutes. Ares followed a minute after I sat down.
It’s only now that I realise the classroom is still empty. “Where is everyone?” I ask him.
“Everyone who?”
“The class?”
“You’re in the wrong classroom,” Ares says.
My eyes widen. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?” I stand and pick up my bag.
“I figured you wanted to be alone.”
“So you followed me? Thinking I wanted to bealone?” My brows draw down. That makes no sense.
“I didn’t say I was going to let you be alone. Just that I thought you wanted to be.” He shrugs.
“Where is the history class I’m supposed to be in?”
“Next door.” He nods towards the wall, and I sit back in the chair.
“I don’t want to walk in late and have everyone stare at me.” I sigh.
“No one is going to stare at you.”
“Yes, they will, and you constantly being next to me isn’t helping me fade into the crowd.”
Ares laughs. “You think you could ever fade into the crowd, P? You stand out even when you’re not trying to.”
There go the little bees in my stomach again. I open my mouth to respond, but then close it.What do I say to that?
“You owe me a secret,” Ares says.
“What?”
“That was the deal. I prove you were as good as family, and you have to tell me something about you no one else knows.”
I roll my eyes. He really needs to stop with this family thing. It’s annoying, and not true. Just because his mum likes me enough to let me go over for dinner does not make us family.
I try to come up with something I can tell him that no one else knows, something irrelevant and not deep. “I’m scared of heights,” I finally say.
“That’s stupid. Tell me something good, something that’s really about you, Zara.”
“That is about me. I hate heights. I hate flying even though I have to do it a lot.” I lift a shoulder.
