Thomas was making his way through the corridors towards the lockers, his friends regaling him with imitations of Thisbe. He was getting impatient. His first class was English and he needed to get there on time. He had his eye set on a scholarship he'd need straight A's to get.
With a quick movement he turned the key to open the door to his locker and put away some of his stuff. A whiff of flowery perfume hit him and froze him in place.
”Hi Tom. Did you have a good summer?” a soft voice whispered from behind.
His head turned towards that voice as if it had a mind of its own. A beautiful girl, tall and slim with the face of an angel grinned at him. Dark ringlets of hair framed her face and cascaded down her, he suddenly noticed, bare back. She was smiling at him.
He tried to swallow as blood rushed to his face. For some reason that he couldn't ever get his head around, his mental capacities slowed whenever she smiled like that.
”It was okay. How was yours, Rachel?” he heard himself ask.
She smiled wider and Thomas stopped breathing.
”Not so good…” she said and took a step towards him. “I mean, LA was cool, but I…” Thomas relaxed as he inhaled the wonderful scent of whatever perfume she was using. “…I missed you,” she continued, smiling at him again.
Thomas swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, “I missed you too,” he replied and knew he was blushing when she reached up to give him a quick peck on the lips.
“I’ll see you at lunch,” she said and with a lingering look at him, she walked over to her friends who were waiting on the other side of the hallway. He didn’t know how to look away. He never knew how to look away from her. By the time she finally turned a corner his friends were sniggering at him. When he glared at them, they laughed.
“Good to see that the happy couple is still going strong,” Wayne said with a laugh.
“Shut up.” Thomas grunted.
”She so hot! I mean, wow man, look at those legs. And that a…” someone piped up.
”What did you say?”
The others fell silent as Thomas looked at Joe, a small guy who he’d never considered a friend, but who always followed him around. He was sporting a huge grin on his face, as if he'd just said something fantastic and Thomas saw red.
The next second he had Joe pressed to the hard surface of a metal locker, his hands locked around the smaller guy's throat.
”Never talk about her that way,” Thomas snarled, his teeth pressed together so tightly he could barely form the words. Joe tried to nod as he gasped for air.
“Whoa, Jefferson, chill. He didn’t mean it like that”, Jock said as he put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
Thomas heard what his friend was saying, but didn’t let go of Joe. He couldn’t let go.
”Do you get it? Never!” Thomas whispered and finally released Joe when Jock’s squeeze hardened into something more painful. He shook off Jock’s hand and turned to walk away while Joe slid down the front of the locker. After a moment’s hesitation the others quietly followed Thomas.
He noticed that they were exchanging pointed looks, but he ignored them, too wrapped up in his inner turmoil. He couldn't believe that he’d snapped like that. He never snapped, in fact he was famous for always staying calm. For crying out loud, Jock called him Iceman.
He stole a glance over his shoulder at Joe who remained on the floor where Thomas had dropped him. At least none of the teachers had noticed. And the guy wouldn't bruise. Much. Thomas fisted his hands. The little creep should bruise.
He fumed as he continued to stalk down the corridor. Of all the rude, stupid things that douche could have said… Joe knew how Thomas felt about Rachel. Everyone knew how Thomas felt about Rachel. And Joe should have known to keep his trap shut.
Thomas nails dug into the palms of his hands. He wanted to go back there and pummel… He took a deep, steadying breath and tried to control his emotions.
What Joe had said was stupid, but let’s face it, so was Joe. Usually Thomas gave him some leeway in stupidity since it was such a fundamental trait of his character. Besides, only idiots on steroids went around and pushed people up lockers.
He picked up his pace. He wasn’t an idiot and he had no business behaving like one. If he'd been caught doing it or if Joe said anything it could cost him his scholarship. Then he remembered the look on Joe's face as he watched Rachel walk away and the urge to go back and punch him returned.
The little prick had gotten exactly what he deserved. Thomas cast a glance over his shoulder as he turned a corner and walked straight into someone who for some unfathomable reason was standing in the middle of the hallway.
“Hey!” that someone protested and hit the ground.
Thomas didn’t reply. He was too focused on getting far enough away from Joe that he wouldn't be tempted to turn around and tear him a new one.
”Look where you’re going, idiot!” someone called after him.
The sound of that voice cut straight through his anger to the pit of his stomach and he came to a complete stop. Wayne bounced off his back.
“Sorry, man,” he said as Thomas swung around.
Thomas hardly noticed. He focused on the girl sitting in the middle of the floor, looking pissed. Her auburn hair was a mess and most of her stuff was spread over the floor. He'd done that too.
Thomas huffed with frustration. He was going to be late. Who was so stupid they stood still in the middle of a busy hallway? Then she had the nerve to call him an idiot.
“What did you say?” he asked.
She glared at him and the way her eyes sparked somehow lit him up. He took a step closer.
“I told you to look where you’re going!” she snapped as she began snatching up her things.
“Why were you standing still in the middle of the hallway?”
“I was trying to find my locker. And don’t you dare put this on me!”
“You can’t just stop in the middle of…”
“Well, I’m sorry for standing in your way,” she hissed, clearly not sorry at all. “I should have used my psychic abilities to predict that a big, dumb footballer was about to come charging around the corner like a…”
“Baseball player,” Thomas corrected.
The girl frowned at him. “What?”
“I play baseball, not football.”
She rolled her eyes. Actually rolled her eyes. Thomas had been sure that people only did that in books, but this girl had perfected the move. Her eyes were light brown, he suddenly noticed. They reminded him of his mother’s amber necklaces.
“Whatever,” the girl said as she picked up the last of her stuff and jammed it back into her pack. “You should have looked where you were going. You haven’t even apologized.”
Thomas took another step towards her, his frustration amping up. “Why would I apologize? You’re the one who…”
“Got knocked on her ass. For standing still.”
Thomas gaped at her. He couldn't believe she’d said ass. None of the girls he knew used that word. There was something about the way she'd said it as well, about the way she spoke... She waited for him to reply, but he was too stunned to form a complete sentence. She shook her head and started to walk away.
“Hey!” Thomas called out, taking a few more steps towards her.
“What?”
“I… I didn’t mean to knock you over.”
“And…?”
He frowned at her. He wasn’t going to say sorry. He might have sent her to the floor, but she was the one who had been standing still where people were obviously meant to be walking.
“You’re new here,” he said instead.
“Yes, I am.”
“Where are you from?”
“Why do you care?” she asked with another glare.
He glared back. He didn’t know why he cared. He just did. It pissed him off when she shook her head and resumed walking.
“Hey! You didn’t answer my question!” he called, but she kept going,
waving a hand over her shoulder dismissively.
“See you later, football boy,” she called back, before turning a corner.
“It’s baseball!” Thomas yelled after her.
He shook his head and turned back to his friends who were all watching him with varying expressions ranging from surprise to confusion.
“What?” he asked them.
“What the hell was that about?” Jock wanted to know.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Thomas said and set off walking again towards the classroom again, faster now. He was running late.
“Since when do you not apologize to pretty girls when you hurt them?”
“I didn't hurt her. And she’s not pretty.”
“She’s real pretty,” Wayne objected, pushing his overly long fringe back from his eyes. “That accent is hot.”
“She doesn’t even know the difference between football and baseball,” Thomas protested.
“Who cares?” Dave said with a snigger. “There are other balls that…”
“Shut up,” Thomas ordered with a smack to his friend's head.
“Ouch! Seriously dude! What’s crept up your bum today?”
“Nothing.”
“No?” Dave asked incredulously. “Well, can you cut it out?”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Whatever,” Dave said irritably. “Stop being a jerk to everyone.”
“I am not being a jerk,” Thomas protested, right as the bell rang and they all pushed into the room for their first class. He decided to save his arguments for the break. He didn’t want to start the new semester with a detention for talking in class.
With a frown he pulled up his textbook. It wasn’t his fault that everyone around him were being especially awful today. Joe had gotten exactly what he deserved and that girl…His frown turned into a scowl. Well, she wasn’t pretty.
Not that she was ugly or anything, but her nose was a little too long, her eyes were too catlike, too intense and her hair… He opened his book and tried to focus on what the teacher was saying. He had to get through the next few hours until lunch and he got to see Rachel again. She was pretty.
Sofia jumped in a vain attempt to reach the ball coursing over her head. The opposing team cheered as she missed and the ball went through the hoop. She cursed to her diminutive size. She wasn’t cut out for basketball. She was too short.
“Come on girls! Focus!” a tall girl with a head full of braids called from her right. Denise, she suddenly remembered, surprised that she could recall the girl's name after the traumatic event of going through the preppy presentation the gym teacher had submitted her to.
She’d felt so awkward standing there talking about herself, she hardly remembered anything the others had said.
Someone sent the basketball her way and she dribbled it across the floor to the other hoop. She passed it to Denise who seemed to know what she was doing. She was at least a head taller than Sofia so she was visible over the horde of other girls currently trying to block her. Denise turned around, jumped and scored without breaking a sweat.
“Well done,” Denise said as she passed her on the way back to their side.
“You too,” Sofia replied and did her best to stop the other team’s forward, or whatever it was called in basketball, when she tried to sneak past her.
Honestly, why couldn't they be playing floorball or football? Those were sports she was good at. Another ball went far over her head. This was depressing.
“Aren’t Swedish people supposed to be tall?” Denise asked her with a grin as she ran past her.
“Compared to who?” Sofia huffed as she tore herself free from a red-haired girl who was all hands.
Denise caught a pass and lobbed another one through the hoop.
“Most people,” she replied as she jogged past.
“Yeah, well, we’re supposed to be blonde as well.”
“True. You’re not exactly living up to the stereotype.”
“Are you disappointed?” Sofia asked with a grin.
“Crushed,” Denise said with a hand to her chest. “Soon you’ll tell me you don’t have polar bears walking the streets.”
“We don’t.”
“Stop shattering my illusions, girl!”
Sofia shook her head and barely managed to focus in time to duck a ball coming straight for her head.
“Hey!” she objected as the ball smacked into the wall behind her.
“What?” the girl who’d thrown it asked. “Can’t catch a ball?”
Sofia gritted her teeth as she walked over to the sidelines and picked it up to throw it back in.
“You know, people here aren’t living up to the stereotype either,” she told Denise.
“No?”
“I thought Americans were supposed to be nice and friendly.”
Denise laughed loudly. “Whatever gave you that idea? Have you not watched a single high school movie?”
“True,” Sofia sighed. “I ran into the school’s major jerk before.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
Sofia blinked. ”There’s more than one?”
”I can think of three right at the top of my head. What did he look like?”
“Blond, big...” she grimaced as she tried to find the right word. “... chiseled.”
Denise tilted her head. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Blue eyes, pissed off expression.”
“Would you say that he was more of a pretty-boy or a Neanderthal?”
Sofia considered the question as she intercepted a black haired girl, grabbed the ball and passed it to another of her teammates.
She wouldn't call him pretty. Classically handsome would be a more accurate description. Not that it made any difference to the way she felt about him.
He’d been rude and unpleasant. So what if his eyes had been the coolest ice blue, his jaw square and his face annoyingly symmetrical? She didn’t care about superficial stuff like that.
Fine, she might have stared a little too long the way his biceps bunched under his tight t-shirt, but that was only because he’d been fisting his hands as if he wanted to punch her. She hadn’t been admiring him, she’d been taking precautions.
“Well?” Denise interrupted her thoughts with a nudge to her side.
“He was somewhere in between. Tall. Fit. Disgustingly sure of himself with all of his boyfriends gathered around him.”
“Killer smile?”
“I didn’t see him smile. He was glaring at me during our whole… conversation.”
“Must have been Ryder. He’s the quarterback and he’s convinced that…”
“No, he said he played baseball.”
Denise’s eyebrows climbed so high they nearly left her forehead. “You discussed sports with him?”
“I called him a big, dumb footballer and he told me he played baseball.”
Denise threw back her head and laughed.
“It wasn’t funny,” Sofia protested. “He’d just knocked me to the ground!”
“He hit you?” Denise asked, aghast.
“No, he knocked me over. I don’t believe it was intentional,” Sofia admitted. “But he still should have looked where he was going and he should have apologized instead of blaming me for standing in his way. Who does that?”
“But he didn’t tell you his name?”
Sofia shook her head. “No, he…”
“Girls! Less talking, more running!” their gym teacher called from the sidelines. “I don’t want to make you do laps.”
Sofia and Denise exchanged glances, but they kept quiet for the rest of the class, focusing on the game until their teacher finally blew the whistle and they were swallowed up in the throng of girls heading for the changing rooms and showers.
When Sofia set off towards her next class fifteen minutes later she was still thinking about jerk guy. She munched on an energy bar and tried to turn her map the right way around. It wasn't fair that som
eone so rude could be so attractive.
Sofia huffed at herself as she finally found the right classroom. She’d thought she was deeper than that. She was deeper than that. This was a temporary lapse brought on by lack of sleep and food. And those, blue, blue eyes.
With a shake of her head she munched down the rest of the bar, opened the door and came to an immediate halt when her gaze once again got caught in ice blue. Great.
3
Vocal Points
Thomas barely managed to stifle a groan as he watched the girl hesitate in the doorway. So she was in his year. Why did she have to be in his year?
“Look at that, your new friend is here, Jefferson,” Wayne said loudly.
Thomas blushed as the rest of the class laughed. Clearly, everyone had already heard about the… altercation… in the hallway.
The girl straightened her back and continued into the classroom. Her face was flushed, her wet hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. She must have either come straight from PE or pissed off someone else and gotten dunked in the toilet. The last thought made him feel a bit better about having her in his class.
He didn’t look away from her until she sank down on a chair in front of Denise with her back turned towards him. Thomas frowned at the back of her head. She hadn’t acknowledged his existence with so much as a word.
“You should have apologized,” Jock muttered to him.
“Why?”
“Because then you could have introduced me to her. Now, I’m going to have to pretend I don’t know you if I’m going to have a chance.”
“Come on, you only go for blondes.”
Jock shrugged. “I’m open to trying new things.”
Thomas couldn't stifle his laughter. “Is that what it says on your profile?”
“No, on your mom’s.”
Thomas shoved at him. “Funny.”
Jock grinned, his focus still on the new girl. She’d turned around and was talking to Denise, smiling. She still wasn’t looking at him.
“I liked it better when her hair was out,” Wayne mused from behind them.
“It’s always better when it’s out,” Dave said from Thomas’s left.
“I don’t know,” Jock mused. “I like the way her neck looks when it’s up.”
Fractured (Unreel series Book 1) Page 2
