by Leila James
The understanding in his eyes reaches someplace deep in my soul. He grabs at the back of his neck and looks me straight in the eye.
I look down at my running shoes, studying them as if they’ll tell me how to respond.
“It’s okay. You don’t know me. You don’t have to say anything.”
“No. I know.” I blow out a quick breath and wince at the jab to my side. “I’m going to have to get used to this, I guess. She had cancer. She died three months ago.”
“Ah, fuck.” The word comes out forcefully. “Fucking cancer. That sucks. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, eyeing me carefully.
I can’t believe we haven’t even exchanged names and I just told him my mom died of cancer. Oh my God, how embarrassing.
I keep having to look away from him, but I can sense his gaze on me. I blink a few times and am surprised by his questioning gaze. His hand reaches toward a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen before he pulls it away. The tenderness on his face just about breaks me.
Shit.
A shattered whisper passes my lips. “I’m so lost.” I step back, wiping both cheeks with my hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t—”
And then I turn and run.
Fuck that stitch in my side.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I sneak downstairs before anyone else is awake, both to exit without a full belly and to take advantage of the cooler early-morning temperature. Connecticut in August is more humid than one might expect, and I generally prefer lower temps. Not to mention, I’m not a huge fan of the sun beating down on my pale skin.
Once outside, I take a few minutes to stretch out my legs. One thing I have always loved about running is that it gives me a lot of time alone with my thoughts. But these days, spending time inside my head can be a little scary. I never know what kind of mood I’ll be in, whether I’ll be fine and able to handle everything or whether something will trigger me and I’ll spend the entire day in a bad headspace.
I fully admit to running from that guy yesterday out of fear that he’d get a glimpse of the churning mess of my raw emotions. And I’d been terrified he’d somehow look inside me with that oddly penetrating gaze of his and see just how well I’m not handling things.
Stretches done, I head out. I’m just getting into the rhythm of my run when my heart jumps up into my throat. That can’t possibly be the same guy.
But oh yes, it is. And it looks like he’s headed straight for me.
Of all the freaking luck. I swear …
He puts his hands up in front of him and waves them a little to get my attention as he gets closer, essentially forcing me to either stop like he wants me to or zigzag to get around him like a weirdo. Would he chase me down if I did that? Ugh. Stop being a damn baby and see what he wants, Scarlett.
I bring myself to a stop and take a few deep breaths as he approaches.
I’m a little wary of him until he smiles at me with those damn perfect teeth, and—oh my God—the most perfect dimple.
“Hey.” Fuck me silly. And he’s put that dimple on full display. Just. For. Me. I blow out a sharp breath. There is no way he would know this about me, but dimples are my kryptonite, and I can’t stop staring. My eyes are fixated on it, in fact.
A slight grin tugs at my lips, and I point toward the road behind him. “I’m trying to run here. Should I be spooked that you showed up again for the second day in a row? What’s up with that?”
“Nah. We must have a similar training route, I guess. I was running my route in reverse today.” He reaches back as he bends one leg behind him, catching it and stretching his quad, then repeating with the other leg. My attention is drawn downward, and I watch him for a few seconds until he’s done. My eyes roam over him, appreciating every fine inch of his muscular body.
Holy gray sweatpants, Batman. My eyes widen at the sight of a distinctly large bulge behind the fabric of his athletic pants, and my gaze jerks upward. Only, that doesn’t help much either, as his T-shirt is kind of tight, stretched across the broad expanse of his powerful chest. It’s also drenched, and like yesterday, I can imagine the deliciously carved muscles of his sweaty abs and pecs hiding underneath his shirt. Heaven help me, I’ve got to stop staring at him like I’m a starving female and he’s a big hunk of man-meat.
“I want to say that I’m sorry for prying yesterday. I had no business asking personal questions. I didn’t know …”
My stare flies from where it was glued to his chest up to his dark brown eyes, which seem to be twinkling at me a bit. It’s like he knows I was just devouring him with my eyes. How embarrassing. But whatever.
Finally, I gather my wits enough to respond. “Oh, um. It’s okay. I just hadn’t expected to talk about my mom first thing in the morning. It’s still a little fresh for me.”
“I get that.” His probing stare leaves me off balance.
Shit. How is he doing that?
“How about we get to know each other, Red?” He shoots me the most adorable smirk.
I tilt my head to the side, pondering the significance of him nicknaming me so quickly while I eye his adorable dimple again. He doesn’t know my real name yet, so maybe that’s to be expected. My teeth clamp down on my lip. I’m flustered. This guy is clearly at the top of the food chain, and I feel distinctly like easy prey.
“That way you’ll eventually be more comfortable talking to me.” He offers his hand, and I take it because I don’t know what else to do. It’s big and warm and does funny things to my insides when he gently squeezes my hand as he’s shaking it. “Could I get your name? I’m Xander.”
“Scarlett.”
Surprise registers on his face, which I get a lot. His voice is gravelly when he replies, “Pretty name.”
“Yeah, my mother was very inventive, what with the red hair and all.” I point to my head and swing my ponytail behind me.
“Right. Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, Scarlett.” He gives me a wave and takes off running again.
“Okay. See you around.” I shout after him, then frown, puzzled at his quick departure.
Chapter 4
Has anyone ever not had butterflies on the first day of school? Someone who claims they haven’t must be inhuman. My anxiety is at an all-time high as I smooth the skirt of my uniform down and look at myself in the mirror on the back of my closet door. This would be the one drawback of an academy—the uniforms. And I know they are meant to put everyone on an even playing field, but at the same time, blech. At least the colors are okay—white button-down, black jacket with a little rose school logo on the chest, and a red-and-black plaid skirt. Could have been worse, I guess.
I shift around, tugging my skirt back into place. It seems to ride up a little when I move around, but whatever. The best part is that I’m not comfortable in skirts. Never have been, never will be. There’s something about being able to feel the breeze up my skirt that strikes me as bizarre. I’m not a fan of tights either, so that’s not the answer. Who wants to hike those up all day long?
At the last minute, I pull a pair of yoga shorts out of my dresser and yank them up underneath the skirt. Better. Less exposed. Now if only I didn’t have to button the shirt up all the way or tuck it in … and let’s not even discuss the stuffy blazer. I take a deep breath and release it in strangled puffs. It’s not like everyone else won’t be in the exact same uniform, probably thinking the same damn thing. Oh shit, I’m so nervous.
With a glance at my phone, I see I need to get going if I want to avoid being late. We took a tour last week, but I still have no idea where I’m going, if I’ll find people to sit with, or …
I roll my eyes at myself. It’ll be fine. It’s the first day of school for everyone. No way will I be the only person feeling lost, confused, or out of place. Right?
Ten minutes later, I pull into the lot designated for student parking with a sigh of relief. Car doors open and slam shut all around me, and I quickly exit Ruth and join the herd of students who hurry together into the
building. I try my best to blend in, my heart pounding out of my chest with nerves the whole way.
My left hand makes a subconscious grab for my right wrist, adjusting the charm bracelet Mom had given me last Christmas. Mom, are you watching? Are you proud? Or are you scared shitless for me? With a deep sigh, I enter Rosehaven Academy for the very first time as a student.
Rosehaven Academy is a sprawling building with the look of a French château. The headmaster of the academy had taken us around and talked a bunch about the Revivalist style of the building that was based on French Renaissance architecture. The tour had only succeeded in boring me and my aunt and uncle.
It kind of looks like a castle—that’s all I really needed to know. Well, that, the fact that the grounds extend several miles beyond the gardens surrounding the building, and that there are running trails all over for the cross-country team’s use. That’s what’s most important to me. It’s the main reason I’m here, after all.
They hadn’t finalized my schedule when we’d visited last week, so my first stop is the main office. I wait my turn behind two other students who are already requesting schedule changes. Once they step aside, I give the secretary a tense smile. “I’m Scarlett Miller. I was told to stop in and pick up my schedule this morning.”
“Oh, yes. I have that right here, sweetie. It’s an odd day, so you’ll attend all the odd-numbered classes on your schedule today. Periods one, three, five, and seven.” She shuffles some papers around before pulling one out of the stack and hands it over the counter to me. “And these are your textbooks. All the other kids picked theirs up when they registered.” She pushes a huge pile toward me right before she glances over her glasses at the two other students. “I’m sure Max and Daphne will be happy to help you get to your first class if you’ll wait just a second.”
“Oh. Um, okay. That’d be nice.” I pull my backpack off, unzip it, and shove my books inside to give me something to do.
The secretary taps a few keys on her computer, prints something out, and waves it at them. “Here you go. Daphne, you’re in the library as an assistant during your study hall. Max, you’re going to help out in guidance.”
Daphne just nods and takes the paper being thrust at her. Max grins and gives the secretary a sly wink. “Thank you, Mrs. Cooper. You’re still my favorite.”
He turns to look at me, his hazel eyes appraising, and I take that same time to analyze him. He’s about five feet, ten inches with sandy hair, and a kind, though mischievous, smile.
“I’m Max. This is Daphne.” He jerks his thumb at the girl, whose long dark hair almost reaches the bottom of her uniform jacket.
She smiles shyly, her green eyes flicking to mine as she studies me. “Hi.”
I press my lips together. “I’m Scarlett. New here. Obviously.” I give an awkward, uncomfortable wave.
We leave the main office as a unit. “I’m sure they gave you the grand tour when you registered. We’ll just concentrate on getting you to your classes for today.” Max snatches my schedule from my hands. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” He holds his phone up and snaps a photo of it.
“You don’t have to—” I grab at my schedule, but fail to get it out of his hands before he passes it off to Daphne.
“Settle down, Cupcake,” he says with a wink. “We just want to make sure you don’t get lost. That’d make for a shitty first day.”
My gaze bounces between them. I don’t have any idea who these two are, but they seem nice enough. I think.
Daphne quietly studies my schedule, tongue tucked into her cheek. “She’s with you first thing, both odd and even days, Max—English 12 and Precalculus.” Scanning down further, her eyes light up. “And we all have the same lunch right after our second class of the day. That’s good. Oh, and the two of us have AP US Government together after lunch on odd days and 3D Art last period on even days.”
I take a deep breath. I could at least try to get to know them. “Are either of you here on scholarship?”
Daphne rolls her eyes. “Max is a legacy student—his grandfather attended Rosehaven. He loves it when I call him a Rose.” She snorts a little at the faux-wounded look he throws her way. “As for me, I’m a thorny academic scholarship student. I’ve only been here since junior year, but I know most of the kids.”
“Do you live in the dorm?”
“No, with my parents. I’ve lived in the area my whole life.”
Max side-eyes me as we walk toward the language wing where our first class is. “Where’d you transfer from, by the way? Were you at River Rock? I haven’t ever seen you around.”
“Oh, um.” My eyes flick to his. “My mom and I used to live about an hour from here. She actually attended Rosehaven, so when they offered me a scholarship for cross-country—”
“You guys moved back for the scholarship?”
“Well, no.” I bite my lip. Made it a whopping ten minutes. My throat constricts. Here we go. I let out a sigh and push forward. “She passed away three months ago.”
Max’s brow furrows and a look of genuine sympathy settles on his face. “That’s rough, Cupcake.”
I blink a few times, stuffing down the pain, swallowing until I’m sure it’s not going to erupt. “Yeah, well. Life sucks sometimes. My aunt and uncle have custody of me until I turn eighteen. Liz and David Baker.”
“Oh, I think I know who they are. They own the garage in town, right?”
“Yep.” I let the P pop on my lips. I freaking hate talking about myself. Especially now that there’s no guarantee that I won’t just lose it in front of the whole school on my first day here. I clear my throat. “Max, why do you keep calling me Cupcake?”
“Because if we aren’t careful, the guys around here are going to eat you up like a goddamn treat.”
My mouth drops open, and I laugh in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Daphne shakes her head with a small smile. “He means nothing by it.”
All three of us are suddenly distracted by a flurry of activity. Up ahead, the hallway fills with broad shoulders in jackets.
“I really don’t.” Max nods his head toward the wall of well-muscled guys headed our way. “I’m more interested in them than in you.”
I glance around, lowering my voice. “Oh. Sorry, I—”
“It’s okay. It’s well known around here that I bat for the other team. You ever want to watch baseball practice, football practice, hell, any practice with dudes in tight pants, I’m your man.”
My lips press together, suppressing a smile. “Understood.” As they get closer, recognition dawns on me. My eyes widen. “That’s Xander in the middle, right?”
Daphne’s head whips toward mine and in a low voice, she whispers, “How do you know Xander?”
Confused by her sudden anxious tone, I whisper back, “I’ve seen him twice while I was out running this past week. I guess he runs, too?”
Max shakes his head, chuckling. “Mm, sort of. He’s the football team’s wide receiver. His buddy Beau, on the left? Running back. And the giant on the right is Micah. One of the tight ends.” He snorts and then says under his breath, “And boy, is the position fitting.” He wriggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.
“Are the two of you …?”
“I wish. He’s as hetero as they come. Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the view. Anyway, they are Rosehaven royalty and you’d do well to not get on their bad side. They're the ruling class, Cupcake. The OG Roses. Their families, along with a few others, founded the school three generations ago. Their shit doesn’t stink. Like, at all.”
I give him a disbelieving look and snort. “Whatever.” Is this place for freaking real? I feel like I’ve stepped into some made-for-TV movie, and not the good Netflix Original kind.
We have no choice but to step aside as they pass. When they do, Xander’s gaze connects with mine and holds. None of the warmth, kindness, or humor I’d seen from him when we first met is present. In fact, his stare is cold and unrelenting and sends a shiver down my
spine. I tear my gaze from his and look down at the floor, color flooding my cheeks. As they pass by, I can sense that he hasn’t looked away. Not for a second.
“What. The fuck. Was that?” Max looks at me with curious eyes.
A commotion from the other direction has us turning our heads.
Daphne wrinkles her nose and murmurs, “We can discuss it at lunch. No time now. Here comes the HBIC and her cheer bitches.”
I grumble, “You lost me again.”
“The Head Bitch in Charge. Aria Warrington, the head cheerleader. And those are the closest of her minions, Alora Berridge, Danica Seeger, and Farrah Kendrick.”
Max laughs. “Again, steer clear. You’ll have a better experience here if you do.”
Daphne pats my arm. “You’ll catch on soon enough. I’ve got to get to class. See you two later at lunch. Max, you’ll get her to her second class?” At his nod, she gives us a little wave and hurries away.
It takes so long for the hall to clear of the football team and cheerleaders, we’re almost late. When Max and I walk in the door, I look around and see there are only two seats left. The room is set up with rows of tables, two students at each.
A guy calls out to Max from across the room to come sit with him, leaving just one seat open. My breath hitches as I watch Max leave my side and turn my gaze in the direction of the only open seat. Of course. Because this is my lucky day.
It’s the one right in front of Xander.
It would seem half the football team has taken up residence in the back two rows of the classroom, with the exception of that one empty chair.
I walk slowly toward it. All eyes are on me.
“How’s it going, Red? Saved you a seat.” Xander pats the top of the chair in front of his, and winks lazily at me as his face twists into a devastatingly brutal smirk. The deep, gravelly tone of his voice hits me low in my stomach, and my eyes flare wide at the uncomfortable sensation. How can someone look so cruel, but somehow be so damned appealing at the same time? And what did I do to deserve his sudden hostility, anyway?
