“I’m starving,” I answered with a wave of my hand. Lance’s eyes flickered to the bandage wrapped around my palm.
“What happened to your hand?”
I glanced at it. “Oh, this? Nothing. Rose decided she wanted to do a blood ritual, so I let her cut me.”
Lance blinked once. Twice. Three times. “Yeah, your boss is insane.”
“You know? I actually am starting to like her. Don’t tell Decker that.”
Lance laughed with an eye roll. “He does always have to be right, yeah? Drives me crazy.”
“It’s worse at school,” I gritted.
Lance took another bite of food, making sure to blow on his fork for a good minute before plopping it into his mouth. And then he spoke with his mouth open, breathing out steam like a fiery dragon. “Guess you weren’t planning on having two brothers when you moved here, huh?” he joked before swallowing his food with a gulp.
My stomach twisted. I did not view Decker as a brother. I saw him like this unattainable force that drew me in. Something I knew was terrible for me but couldn’t avoid all the same. But if Lance wanted to establish the boundary and make it clear that the only affection between us should be brotherly, then I’d roll with the punches. “Yeah. I went from having no one to two overprotective brothers. I can’t wait to bring a guy home. He’s going to shit his pants.”
Lance had a twinkle in his eyes like I’d said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Did you meet anyone at school?” he asked.
“I met someone named Maximillian. He’s cute and sweet. He asked for my number,” I offered with a shrug, forgoing the fact that I only viewed him as a friend. He was too sweet. Too nice. Too easygoing. I was attracted, sure. Good looking people were just that—good looking. Maybe it was Mama’s influence that attracted me to the things I shouldn’t want or the things I couldn’t have. I loved a bit of danger. I liked my relationships toxic and out of reach.
“You should bring him over sometime. We can invite your dad, too, just to really terrify him,” Lance offered, making me snort.
“Sounds like a plan.”
And then we ate our food. We joked. We bonded.
And I decided that Lance Trask was an exceptional person to share blood with.
14
Blakely
Memphis Academy for Math and Science had a large, sprawling cafeteria. You would think that the heart of the campus would be the library, considering the caliber of its students. But like every other typical high school in the country, the cafeteria was where you could find the pulse.
My first day, I spent most of lunch hiding in the library, sulking over the fact that I kept getting looks of pity from my teachers and some of the students. However, Maximillian didn’t let me escape today. He’s been following me around, and the moment the bell rang for lunch, he grabbed my wrist and practically dragged me into the social circle of hell.
We sat at a table in the far corner near a large window that gave us the vantage of the entire cafeteria. I observed natural selection in its prime. Students segregated themselves based on interests, looks, and intelligence. I couldn’t help but wonder where I fit in.
Shifting in my seat, I let Max plop a straw in my Coke as he mentioned it was better for my teeth. A few students that I recognized from my classes sat with us, as well as a couple of guys I’d never seen before. It seemed I’d made a lot of friends fairly quickly, which was shocking considering I hadn’t really spoken to anyone. At my old school, I kept to myself and struggled to make meaningful connections; here it seemed people flocked to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the rumors or Maximillian.
Maximillian boasted that he was in every club imaginable. He wanted to run for class president, too. He was well liked, well known, and well acquainted with most of the female population. It didn’t take me long to find out that Max liked to date. A lot. The jealous stares tossed my way by prep-school geniuses were a dime a dozen. A hot future scientist was in high demand, apparently.
“You’re from Texas, right?” a mousy voice asked. I turned to my right to stare at a girl with long blonde hair and dark, bushy eyebrows. She had a timid way about her, with downcast eyes and a button nose. I remembered that her name was Taylor, and I wanted to say she was in my class with Decker—I mean Mr. Harris—but I wasn’t for sure. I liked her the most because she was quiet.
“Yep,” I said with a pop. “Lived there my whole life.”
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned the other way to stare at Maximillian. He was clutching me close in an awkward side hug that forced my chest to concave. Maximillian’s thigh pressed against mine, making my skin heat up from the friction. I felt nothing though. My heart felt like it was on a lag, too busy wading through Decker Harris to appreciate the feel of this pretty-boy’s undivided attention.
“I, for one, am happy Blakely moved from Texas,” Maximillian announced with a boyish grin.
“I bet you are,” a dark-skinned boy snickered while wiggling his eyebrows.
“Why did you move here?” Taylor asked. She was a nosey one, that was certain. Taylor seemed chronically inquisitive and a bit abrasive. I stared at her as she picked up the salad on her plate, intently picking up zero-calorie shreds of lettuce and dipping it into her vinaigrette. There was no cheese on her salad, nor any croutons. Just a bunch of healthy shit carefully proportioned to decorate her plate. Taylor seemed like a perfectionist, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.
I stumbled through my answer for a moment, remembering Rose’s advice. “My mother died.” My admission was like cement being poured across the table. “I found out I had a brother and moved out here to stay with him. It’s been different, but I like it,” I explained with ease, surprised how freeing it was to own my story and spit it out for the curious onlookers.
Taylor’s eyes widened, but there wasn’t actually any shock in her expression. Something told me that she’d already heard the rumors about my existence but wanted clarity from the source. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said in a lower voice before reaching out to place her tiny hand over mine.
The corner of my mouth picked up as Maximillian squeezed me tighter. Something about this entire interaction made it feel like it was more about them than it was about me. I once knew a man that would say giving comfort was more enjoyable than receiving it, and as I stared around the table at the sympathetic faces, I realized that he was onto something. I kind of wanted to steal a little comfort back.
“Don’t be. Mama was kind of a bitch,” I said with a shrug while reveling in the shocked expressions that crossed my table-mates’ faces. Maximillian let out a short laugh.
“I’m starting to realize you don’t say what I expect you to,” he said gruffly before removing his hand from my shoulder and picking up half of his sandwich to shove it into his mouth. I watched in awe, mostly because he didn’t appear to actually chew his food, just pushed it down his throat.
“I’m starting to think it’s fun to be unpredictable,” I replied. My little bit of socialization was already starting to drain me, so I distracted myself by pulling out my homework from last night to read over it once more. Around me, people still talked as I worked through a couple of problems I was unsure about.