by Mary Lindsey
As if she were in charge of him in some way, she nodded, and he scooted out of his seat and joined his two friends several rows back.
So stiff she looked brittle, she lowered herself into her chair, studying him.
“Gimme a piece of paper,” he said. “We need to look like we’re working.”
She passed a piece of notebook paper and crossed her arms over her ribs. “What do you want?”
“Answers.”
“Well, you’re shit out of luck, because I suck at math.”
“Not math, and you know it.”
She slumped low in her desk and frowned. “Look. I appreciate you not ratting me out last night, but that’s all you’re going to get: appreciation.” She snatched the paper back and copied the problem from the board, pencil rasping over the surface. He was surprised the lead didn’t break, or maybe even the entire pencil, as hard as she gripped it.
The hairs prickled on his neck, and he glanced over his shoulder at her three friends, who had perfected the you’re-a-dead-man glare.
“Your boyfriends don’t like me.”
She stared at him, face unreadable. He’d hoped she’d clarify her relationship with them, but instead, she shrugged and resumed scribbling. “Neither do I.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Don’t want to.”
He knew he should throw his hands up and go back to his own desk, but his curiosity was bigger than his pride.
One of the scratches on her arm widened as it disappeared up into her T-shirt sleeve. He reached to pull up the sleeve to see how bad it was, and without even turning her head, she clamped her hand around his wrist with a surprisingly strong grip. Pale, narrowed eyes met his. “Touch me and you’ll regret it.”
He glanced over his shoulder to find her friends leaning forward, gripping the edges of their desks. He suspected she wasn’t referring to them making him regret it, though.
“That’s a really bad scratch. You should get it looked at. Might need stitches.”
She slammed down her pencil. “Look, Emily, or Erin, or whatever your name is.”
“Aaron. But I go by Rain.”
“Right. Sprinkles.” She picked up the pencil again. “I really do appreciate your not exposing me last night, but get out of my business.”
He leaned close. It was risky, but if she could tease about his name, he could tease right back. “Not sure you could have been any more exposed. Though maybe if your hair had been pulled back like it is now…” He arched an eyebrow and stared pointedly at the skulls on the Thirty Seconds to Mars T-shirt stretched across her chest.
Her face flushed red, and she resumed scratching numbers across the page. Then the corner of her mouth quirked up in a half smile.
He let out his breath and smiled, too.
“You flirting with me, Sprinkles?”
“Maybe.” He was dying to find out more about her. He’d never been this intrigued by a person. He shifted in the undersize desk to face her more. “Wanna tell me why you were in that barn last night?”
“Nope.” She set down the pencil, and it rolled off the sloped surface. She caught it before it hit the floor. Her reflexes were lightning fast.
“Wanna tell me about the scratches on your arms?”
“If I tell you, will you drop it?”
“Probably not. Depends on the explanation.”
She tapped the pencil on her desk and rolled her eyes. “I walked through some thorn bushes on my way back home. Looks much worse than it is.”
“You walked home? That means you live near Enchanted Rock and had clothes nearby, then.”
“Wrong on all counts. Don’t quit your day job, Sherlock.”
Man, she wasn’t making this easy. He’d almost gone mad last night, seeing her in his mind and not knowing if she’d made it home safely. He’d walked to school early and staked out the senior lot, hoping to speak with her before school, but she’d never arrived. Maybe, like him, she didn’t drive. Then, he’d spent the entire lunch period looking for her with no results.
She placed the paper on his desk. “Truly, I suck at math. If you value your grade, you’ll do this.”
He looked around, and everyone except her three buddies were hard at work, many of them using calculators. “Do you have a calculator?”
“Yeah.” She pulled one out of her backpack and handed it to him. “Never turned it on. Not sure if it even works.”
It was one of the super-expensive kinds the rich kids at his last school had. When he slid the case back, there were words written in silver Sharpie inside. You make me proud. Love, Dad.
His chest tightened at the words he’d never hear from his own father—a man he’d never known. “You and your dad must be close, huh?”
She cleared her throat and tugged the zipper shut on her backpack. “Just do the work, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d inadvertently hit a hot button with the dad. As he filled in a couple of empty spaces in the problem, his mind worked to fill in some blank spaces about this girl. “So, I noticed you seemed a little scared yesterday.”
“Maybe you should be scared.”
“Of you?” He met her eyes.
The side of her mouth quirked up again. “Nah. I’m no threat to you at all.”
He nodded and filled in another blank. “That’s good to know, because your friends want to rip out my throat.”
She glanced over her shoulder at them. “That’s a weird phrase, but yeah, you’re not high on their list of favorite people.”
“Why?”
“Just do the work, okay?”
He put the paper back on her desk. “You do it.” It was a dick move, but he was testing something. He’d stayed alive this long by being a good judge of people, and he had a hunch this girl’s tough act was just that—an act born of necessity, not choice. She had to appear tough to these boys for some reason.
She stared at the paper and sighed rather than snap orders at him again, confirming his hunch. He retrieved the paper and completed the problem, then leaned close as he placed it on her desk.
“Why were you in that barn last night?”
She leaned in as well, shoulder touching his, causing warmth to radiate from where they met. “None of your damn business.”
“It’s totally my business. That makes twice I’ve lied to cover up for you, and I’d like to know why.”
Cold air replaced her warm shoulder when she pulled away. “Lying was your choice.”
“Everything cool, Freddie?” Thomas called from behind them.
She stilled, then turned. “Yeah. Butt out.”
“Hey, she’s got a thing for your butt, Tommy,” Kurt teased.
“It’s not my butt she wants,” Thomas said, leaning back. “Is it, Freddie?”
Surely she wasn’t dating this guy. He tensed at the thought.
“Quiet,” the teacher called from the desk at the front.
Freddie crossed her arms over her chest, mouth clamped tight in a thin line.
“Okay, if I guess right, will you tell me?” Rain asked.
“It’s out of your league, Sprinkles. I’m out of your league.”
He leaned in again and spoke so quietly, she would have to listen very closely to hear him at all. “Yes, you’re way, way out of my league, but I pride myself on aiming high. Simple yes or no answers to two questions. Just two and I’ll drop it, okay?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then looked away and nodded.
“Were you in the barn to hide from those guys?”
Her eyes shot to his briefly, then back to the board at the front of the room.
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
She’d said it without expression, staring straight ahead. She was lying.
His desk made a metallic shriek as he scooted it closer to hers. “I know what it’s like to have problems. To hide and hope to hell I don’t get caught.”
She snorted. “That’s not your second question
.”
“If you need help with those guys…or with anything at all—”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, so you see yourself as some big-city superhero who can swoop in and rescue little ol’ helpless me?” Her voice dropped back to a low whisper. “From what, Sprinkles? You don’t even have a clue what’s going on.”
“You’re right, but I want to.” His instincts told him this girl was in some real trouble, which was something he did understand.
The bell rang, and she stood and scooped up her backpack.
“Turn in your papers in the basket on the teacher’s desk,” the substitute called. “Be sure your names are on them.”
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I’m serious about being here if you need anything. I’ve been in deep myself.” He shot a glance at her friends, who were heading their way. “I’m also good at beating the shit out of people.”
She tugged her arm free. “Pretty sure I’ve got this.”
“I’m sure you do. In fact, I’m certain of it. But I know from experience, sometimes it’s nice to know someone’s got your back, even if you don’t need it.”
She stared as if seeing him for the first time.
“I still have my second question,” he said, determined not to waste this connection.
“Everything okay, Freddie baby?” Thomas asked, snaking his arm around her waist. The other two guys flanked on either side defensively.
She slammed her elbow into Thomas’s ribs, and he withdrew his arm and grabbed his side. “Shit, Freddie,” he gasped. The other two boys took a step away from her.
“What’s the question?” she said to Rain, as if she hadn’t just rib-checked the crap out of someone.
“Wanna go out sometime? You know. Just hang out or something?”
The guys gaped as if he’d just stepped out of a flying saucer.
Her eyes widened, and she appeared to hold her breath. He’d surprised her.
“Yes or no?” he pushed.
She glanced at Thomas then ratcheted her chin up a notch, meeting Rain’s gaze directly. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Now her friends exchanged looks like she was from outer space, too.
Freddie’s sudden smile made his heart hammer.
“And thanks for…” She evidently decided against whatever she was going to say. “For helping with the assignment today. You’re right. It’s good to have backup sometimes.”
After she left the room, her friends shot him angry glares promising retaliation as they slunk out the door after her. Rain found it hard to contain his smile. He’d never met anyone quite like this girl—fierce and smart and painfully sexy. He dropped the paper in the box on the desk.
“If you’re at your aunt’s tomorrow night during our book club, I’ll see you then,” Miss Kendleton said.
“Yeah, great.” Hopefully, he’d be as far away from that shit as possible, and out with hot, mysterious Freddie Burkhart.
Six
Rain heard Freddie’s angry voice and paused before he rounded the corner to the bank of lockers where he’d seen her yesterday. The tardy bell was about to ring, so the hallway was clear of students for the most part.
“I’ll do whatever I want with whomever I want, Thomas. You have zero say. None of you do.”
“What do you think Uncle Ulrich will say?”
“Uncle Ulrich isn’t going to know. If he finds out,” she said, voice deep and raspy, “then he’s going to find out a lot of things the three of you’ve been doing.”
“Fine,” he said. “Just remember our dads’ agreement and keep your jeans zipped.”
“Screw you, Thomas. This isn’t the Middle Ages.”
“Screw me’s right.”
“Not in your wildest dreams is that gonna happen,” she answered.
“Happens in my dreams all the time. And yeah, it’s pretty wild.”
“You sonofa—” Her words ended in a growl.
“Hey, hey, hey!” one of the other guys said over sneaker squeaks and grunts. “Break it up.”
“Yeah, we need to get to class.”
Rain recognized the last voice as that of the dark-haired kid from the front row.
Freddie gave a frustrated huff. “Forget class, Merrick. You need to find Mr. Pratt’s cat,” she snapped. “Find it or you’ll be singing soprano tomorrow, we clear?”
“Yeah.” Merrick rounded the corner and almost bumped into Rain. He was followed by Kurt, and then Thomas, who had a nasty scratch across his cheek.
Rain flashed a fuck-you smile, which didn’t go over well. The three guys squared off shoulder to shoulder, and he resigned himself to the inevitable. The odds weren’t great, but he’d been in a lot worse situations. He’d really hoped to not get suspended, though. The gig with Aunt Ruby was new and the best he’d ever had. Now this.
“Come on,” he said. The tardy bell drowned out the thud of his backpack hitting the floor. “Which one of you pricks wants to start some shit, because it sure as hell isn’t gonna be me. I’ve no beef with you.”
Kurt snickered. “Beef,” he repeated.
“Moo,” the dark-haired one named Merrick said.
Thomas cupped his hands around his mouth and did a cow imitation. “Mooooo!”
“Stop it.” Freddie rounded the corner, hands balled into fists on her hips.
“Mooooo!” Thomas bellowed, and the other boys laughed. “He brought up livestock, we didn’t.”
What the hell? It was like they’d snapped and reverted back to grade school. The three guys high-fived one another and sauntered off down the hall, lowing like cattle the whole way.
Freddie dropped her arms to her sides. “Sorry. They’re total assholes.”
And completely out of their minds. At least he wasn’t nursing injuries and an expulsion slip. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.
“I, uh… Well, gotta get to study hall,” she said. “The teacher never takes attendance, so I won’t be counted tardy.”
“Yeah. I’ve got track. Same story.”
“Oh, you run?”
“Only if I’m losing a fight.”
She smiled and leaned against the bank of lockers. “Do you run a lot?”
“Never had to yet.”
She smirked. “Because you’re just that good.”
“Because I know when to fight and when to walk away.”
“Didn’t look like you were walking away from the boys.” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you really think you could beat all three of them?”
“I’d have kicked their asses.”
“You’re pretty cocky there, Sprinkles.”
And he knew she liked it. Understood it. “Maybe, but it really boils down to motivation. What I want is a lot more important to me than what they want is to them.”
“And what is it you want?”
You. The thought came out of nowhere, and the truth of it startled him. He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder and leaned back against the lockers next to her. “I wanna just lay low for a while without having to always watch my back or wonder what’s coming at me, you know?”
She turned sideways to face him. “Yeah, I do.”
Silence stretched between them like a tense bowstring, and all he could do was stare. Something was happening. Something fragile and rare and terrifying. And he loved it. Reveled in the conflicted, complicated silence as their bodies and minds acknowledged the unusual nature of their attraction—a raw, animal need on a level so basic, it was all he could do to keep his hands off her right there in the middle of the school hallway.
“You kids don’t want a detention the week before spring break, now do you?” a short, bald guy in tight coach shorts called from down the hall.
Freddie cursed under her breath.
“Sorry,” Rain said. “I’m new. I stopped her to ask for directions to the gym. Totally my fault.”
The guy looked him up and down. “I’m Jack Jones. Head football coach. What’s your nam
e?”
“Aaron Ryland.”
“Ruby’s nephew, then.”
He nodded.
The only thing that would make this worse was if the guy told him he was a member of Ruby’s book club.
“You a senior?”
“I am.”
“You look like you could take some hits. Too bad we didn’t get you on our football team a couple of years ago.”
Yeah. Hits.
“Follow me, I’ll show you where the gym is.” He delivered a pointed stare to Freddie. “Get to class, missy.”
She gave the coach a middle-finger salute behind his back, then she winked at Rain, causing that jackhammer in his chest to crank back into action. Good thing he was about to run laps; it would help him work off some of this tension that pushed the needle into the red zone every time she was near.
…
“Good job, gentlemen!” the gym teacher shouted as Rain’s group crossed the finish line after a 440. He bent at the waist, hands on knees, catching his breath while fighting the urge to throw up. It felt good to push that hard and take his body to the limit. He’d much rather be taking his body to the limit another way, but that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon—if he was lucky enough for it to happen at all. Freddie wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known. She was guarded and clearly carrying a lot of baggage she wasn’t ready to unpack.
“You sure you don’t want to run varsity?” a guy with curly blond hair and a dark tan asked. “Coach was serious, you know. We still have a few meets this year.”
Rain straightened, catching his breath. The guy was so tall, they stood eye to eye, only he didn’t bear that hardened look of the streets. He was more the college-prep jock type. “Yeah. Totally sure. Heading straight from here to look for a job. Hopefully I’ll find one and won’t have time for after-school training.”
“Have you tried Ericksen Hardware?”
“No. They looking?”
“They are if you tell them I sent you.” The guy grinned, showing perfect, straight teeth. “I’m Grant Ericksen.” He extended his hand. “My family owns it.”
“Rain Ryland.”
“I know.” The guy had a strong grip and a genuine smile. It usually took Rain a while to trust people, but a strange warmth traveled from their clasped hands up his arm, disarming his usual suspicion. He liked Grant immediately, which struck him as odd.
