James passes me his. My hand cups around, blocking the wind as I light the joint and inhale deeply. I wouldn’t usually get high this early, but knowing she’s here somewhere has me on edge.
“You good?” James asks, looking at me suspiciously.
“Fucking fantastic,” I grunt as we continue walking until we get to the small enclave, finding Dan and Spencer.
“You fuckers sleep in?” Spence asks. I’m usually here more than five minutes before the first bell rings.
“Family shit,” I say, and none of them ask anything after that. They know better than to ask aboutfamily shit.
Being the son of one of the De Bellis brothers means there is plenty offamily shitI have to keep to myself. My father and his brothers run Melbourne’s largest crime organisation. They also have a shitload of legitimate businesses, one of them being the country’s best whiskey distillery, but no one seems to care about that when they hear my family name.
When the bell rings out, both James and Daniel say their goodbyes. I never turn up to class on the first bell. I prefer to wait as long as I can. I also want to avoid walking through the crowded halls and potentially running into her.
Once the second bell rings, I stump out what’s left of my joint. “There a reason you’re hanging back more than usual?” Spencer asks.
“There a reason you’re nosier than usual?” I retort.
“Yeah, you’re acting weird.” He snorts.
We make our way into the building. The hall is empty. Spencer and I both have English first period. By the time we push through the closed door, everyone is seated and Mr Weston has already started his lecture.
“Nice of you two to join us,” he says, pausing what he was already telling the class.
“Anytime, sir,” I reply with a smirk. Spencer makes his way to the other side of the classroom, where we both usually sit.
My feet freeze. My eyes land on the back of a blonde ponytail. A big pink fucking bow sitting at the top. She can turn her face away from me all she likes. I’d still be able to spot her in a crowd. The fact she’s always wearing those bows is a dead giveaway. Then there’s the response my body has to her nearness.
“Whenever you’re ready, Mr De Bellis,” Mr Weston says, snapping me out of my Zara haze.
I school my features as I walk up to the kid in the seat next to Zara’s. I glare at him. “Move,” I grunt. I’m an asshole. I know.
The kid’s eyes widen but he picks up his shit and moves to the back of the room without saying a word. I catch Spencer’s amusement as he shakes his head at me. Ignoring him, I sit down and wait. Zara’s still staring out the window.
She’ll turn around. She won’t be able to keep herself from telling me what an ass I am. I count down from ten in my head, getting to six before her neck slowly turns towards me.
“Morning, P. Fancy seeing you here.” I let my gaze roam all over her features. Her clenched jaw, the frown lines between her brows, and then I settle on her eyes. She’s attempting to emanate hate, anger, and a bunch of other bullshit emotions she doesn’t really feel. Nope, what really shines through is sadness. It always does. Every time I look at her, all I see is sadness. It’s not obvious. She would never let anyone see her as anything but happy or polite. But it’s there, in her eyes.
A deep sadness that threatens to pull me into its centre and drown me whole. The frightening part? I’d probably let it consume me if it meant it would leave her alone even for a minute.
“Morning,” she eventually whispers, her face shifting from anger to the well-practiced heiress that she is.
I don’t speak for the rest of the period. What’s there to say? I know that me sitting here, at the front of the class, next to her is going to have the tongues of the school wagging. If Zara had hoped to blend in with the crowd, not be seen, she’s going to hate me even more for what I’ve done.
I’ve made her the very centre of the school’s gossip mill.
When the bell goes, she packs up her bag as quickly as she can and practically runs out of the room. I’m a step behind her. My hand reaches out to her elbow, stopping her escape.
“What class do you have next?” I ask.
She looks at the piece of paper in her hand and then back up at me. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I’m tempted to reach out and run my thumb along that same lip.
“I don’t need you to help me, Ares. You can pretend you don’t even know me,” she says.
“What would be the fun in that?” I smirk. “What class do you have, P?”
Spencer stops next to us, looking from me to Zara. “Hey, Spence, and you are?” He puts his hand out towards her.
I push his arm down. “Not fucking interestedis what she is,” I growl at him. I know my friends. I know how Spencer likes to be the first to get with the new girls. Especially ones as hot as Zara.
