Has he been there the whole time?
I force myself to ignore him and start grabbing my books out of my locker for my first class.
“There you are.”
I turn and see Lyla, looking a little worse for wear. There’s sweat on her brow, and her cheeks are flushed. I hear her phone buzzing. “What happened to your other locker?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrows at her. Is she really going to act like there’s not a big, flaming slap to her face on the school’s front lawn right now?
Oooookay.
“Someone broke into it,” I answer, turning back to my locker. “Was it you? After my black Bebe top?”
She tosses me a dirty look. “Like it would fit. I’m softballs, and you’re baseballs, babe.”
I hold back my eye roll as I stuff what I need in my bag, making sure I have my water bottle. I cast a quick glance behind me and see that Masen is gone.
Lyla’s phone keeps buzzing, and I don’t know if it’s Facebook notifications or J.D. burning her up, but I really don’t care.
Some girls pass by, covering their mouths with their hands, and Lyla shoots them a scowl. “Bite me, bitches,” she growls. And they look away, carrying their smirks with them as they walk down the hall.
Manny Cortez comes up behind her and tries to open his locker, but she turns around, facing both of us. “Well, well, well, maybe it was Manny who broke into your locker. Did you need some lipstick to go with that eyeliner?”
I see his expression harden as he keeps his back to her and doesn’t respond.
“Nah,” I step in, shutting my locker. “Two different color palettes. I’m a Mountain Sunset. He’s A Smokey Night.”
Lyla laughs but then she stops when we hear a yell.
“Heads up!”
We both dart our eyes upward and see a football flying down, coming straight for us. We scurry back, but there’s no need. The ball slams into the left side of Manny’s head, and he’s knocked to his right, his hand immediately shooting to cover his ear as he winces in pain.
“Oh, shit.” Trey runs up to us, laughing. “Sorry, dude. I honestly didn’t mean it. This time,” he adds.
I watch as Manny breathes hard, his black eyebrows wrinkled up in pain. He brings his hand away from his ear, and I see blood. My eyes go wide, and I suck in a breath.
Oh, my God. Is that coming from his ear or out of it? Before I can find out, though, Manny slams his locker door shut and charges off, disappearing into the bathroom as the bell sounds off.
“Nice going, asshole,” I scold.
“Hey, it was an accident.”
I see him cast a look at Lyla, and then I see J.D. pop up behind him as all of the students hurry to class.
“Get in class,” J.D. tells Lyla, his jaw flexing.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’ll finish talking to you later.”
She stands there, looking angry, but I don’t stick around to watch the outcome.
Walking past them, I head to Art, but I don’t see Masen in his seat. And by the time the bell rings, he’s still not there.
I just saw him in the hall. How does he get to just come and go as he likes and skip classes?
Luckily, though, Trey isn’t crashing class, either, so I make it through the entire period getting work on Misha’s cover done and being left entirely alone.
Even Manny is missing, probably having gone to the nurse to get his ear checked. I hope he’s okay. That had to hurt.
After class ends, I make my way to English, weaving through students as I slip into the classroom. Masen is sitting in his seat, and I pause, taken aback.
Jesus. What does he do? Put in appearances whenever he feels like it?
No books again, no visible pencil, and looks like he just showed up because he has nothing better to do. Isn’t he worried about graduating?
“Alright, take your questionnaires and go set the rest of your things down,” Mr. Foster instructs as we file into the room and he passes out papers. “And don’t forget to take a pencil. Once I call your names, you can pair up, take your things to the library, and begin working.”
Oh, that’s right. It’s Research Day.
Once in a while, Foster sends us to the library to let us work on our skills. He pairs us up, hands us a worksheet of information to find, and then we’re on our own for the whole period. It’s a reason to get out of class. I never complain.
“Lane, Rodney, and Cooper,” Foster calls from his roster.
Three students stand up, take their materials, and leave the room.
“Jess, Carmen, and Riley.”
He keeps going, one group after another, as the room slowly empties, and my nerves start to turn anxious when I realize there’s only a handful of people left, including Masen and me.
Please not him.
But Foster calls the next group. “Ryen, J.D., and Trey.”
I let out a breath of relief.
“Hell, yeah,” J.D. boasts, and I see him swipe a high-five at Trey next to him. I start to stand up, taking what I need.
“And last two…” Foster announces. “Lyla and Masen.”
I falter for only a moment and then swing my bag over my shoulder, hurrying out of the classroom.
Lyla and Masen. Great. She won’t be able to control herself.
I step out of the classroom, hardening my expression. Why do I even care? I don’t like him. I don’t give a damn if she flirts with him, which she’ll definitely do, so let her have at it. Fine.
She’s J.D.’s problem anyway.
And it doesn’t matter. Someone else already has my heart, and Masen Laurent isn’t him. He’ll never be Misha.