We paused outside the doors while Silas showed Jude something on his phone.
My eyes were doing this weird thing that could only be summed up as indecision. They weren’t sure where to remain or what to absorb the most of. His hair—god, so thick. The straight disarray of it perfect—not too long up top and not too short on the sides. Those lips, a little plump, but just enough that I knew they’d fit between mine so seamlessly.
He might have lived next door, but I’d hardly seen him since the summer. Only small glimpses like this at school, if I was lucky.
Seeing him now, having him mere feet from me, that hypnotic caramel earthy cologne wafting from his tanned skin… my knees buckled a little.
The last time I was standing this close was in the cafeteria line at the start of the school year. It had been raining, and I’d watched as drops of water slid down his neck to dampen the collar of his shirt.
He wore that same shirt now, as did all the guys at school, but I was willing to bet it was a size larger, judging by the broader expanse of his shoulders and upper arms. The black cotton was only half-buttoned, exposing a gray T-shirt beneath. Lean with muscles that shifted in his beautiful arms and a face sculpted from stone, he was an Adonis. An eighteen-year-old god.
How did I know he was eighteen? His birthday was a month before mine—five months and four days ago—November second. His mouse of an ex-girlfriend had embarrassed him at school with a bundle of black balloons. I knew everything about him. Well, as much as I could discover through eavesdropping, social media, web stalking, and some minor stalking in general.
His gray slacks hung low from his waist. I could tell when he lifted his bag over his shoulder, granting a mouthwatering glimpse of a defined hip. To touch it, trace it, and oh my god, to lick—
“Who’s the gawker?” Jude said, and I blinked. “She new?”
Eyes framed with dark, curling lashes were aimed at me. His thick brows, perfectly shaped, sank low.
Of course, I’d be noticed now, ogling the hell out of him.
Cory laughed, but it was that fake, forced laughter she did when she was nervous or offended. “Uh, no, she’s not.”
Still pinned on me, Jude’s eyes widened expectantly. “Does it have a voice?”
This was my time. I could allow the heat slowly infiltrating to grace my entire face or stop it in its tracks by snatching what could be my only opportunity.
“Oh, I do,” I said with more ease than I ever could’ve thought possible because holy fucking shit, he was talking to me. “I do,” I said again, like an idiot, and smiled in a way I hoped accentuated my eyes. “I can have many voices if you’d like. You can sample them—”
Cory slapped a hand over my mouth.
Jude was openly assessing me now, his expression unreadable.
“Excuse her,” Cory said. “She took some of her mom’s Valium by accident, thinking it was her iron pill.”
I tried to pry her fingers from my face to no avail.
Jude smirked in a way that spoke of sinister whispers heatedly delivered to your ear in the dark. “Remove your hand. I’d like to hear what else she has to say.”
That voice… so silken with its slight accent and sensuously deep.
Cory did that fake laugh thing again and proceeded to drag me away. “You really don’t.”
Silas was laughing silently, staring at the ground.
I shoved Cory off, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She grabbed my wrist, tugging hard to the doors. Forgetting I was wearing the stupid heels, I almost tripped. I scowled at her, and hissed, “Quit it.”
I could feel Jude watching, but when I turned back, he was in conversation with Silas as two more members of the football team arrived.
I wanted to growl, scream, and kill my idiot best friend.
But considering she was my only friend, that wouldn’t be smart. A girl needed her allies.
Peridot Academy was war, and we were but warriors just trying to survive.
“God, I didn’t think you were serious,” she said between her teeth, smiling at Agatha Jones when we passed. “You can’t just do that, Fern.”
“I can, and you ruined it,” I said as we found our lockers in the seniors’ hall.
“More like I stopped you from ruining it,” she said. “I can have many voices?” Her tone pitched high with disbelief. “Really, Fern?”
Tipping a shoulder, I failed to see the problem, leaning back against my locker as she opened hers. “He seemed into it.”
“He seemed confused.” She lowered her voice, sympathy riding it. “He didn’t even know who you were, Fern, and we’ve been in this cesspit for years.”
Letting my eyes skim the passersby, the excitement and fear that stained the hall under the obnoxious scents of cologne and perfume, I smiled to myself.
He’d noticed me. Not only that, but he’d seemed curious about me.
If there ever was a time to make damn sure I got what I wanted, it was now. “Well, he’s about to know me,” I muttered. “Real well.”
Cory rolled her eyes. “He’ll make a meal out of you and leave you in scraps.”
That was what I was hoping.
After school, I lingered, but there were no more sightings of Jude.
I waited beside my locker for Cory, but she was a no-show. The crowds began to wane, Melanie’s upper lip curling, her sharp eyes dipping up and down my body before she turned to Marnie and laughed.
Marnie kept her head down, clutching her vintage Chanel tight to her side as they rounded the corner and headed for the exit.
Marnie Trench was sweet, the perfect loyal poodle with glossy eyes and brown hair to match our queen bee, Melanie Hillings. Without fail and never a protest, Marnie followed her every order.
Marnie and Melanie, or M&M as I’d once heard Marnie suggest during English in sophomore year, had the type of friendship that seemed to stay afloat due to the amount of dirt they had on one another. The glower blazing from Melanie’s green eyes, followed by the whiny, “Ew, no,” had shut that nickname down real quick.
I’d spent the rest of class wondering what nicknames she’d dubbed Jude with, and if he’d soften for her enough in order to give him one. They’d supposedly been a couple since middle school, so it was plausible she’d managed to cajole a nickname from the aloof six-foot-three hunk of a male.
At home, I left my car out front and bounded up the shrub-lined steps to our porch. It wrapped around the house, and at the side was a set of stairs leading to the balcony above.
I’d sometimes sit out there in one of the rockers, feigning interest in a book, hoping I’d catch a glimpse of Jude. More often than not, I’d just see his car come and go, and sometimes, his younger brother, Henry, playing soccer outside.
I wondered if Jude liked soccer and if he ever played. As the wide receiver for the school’s football team, he spent at least one weekend out of every month of football season traveling off the island to play other schools.
I’d left the island a few times. It sat off the coast of New York. January, my mother, loved to shop, so she’d take me with her to the bustling, claustrophobic giant city when I was younger. Now, I was old enough to stay behind and be left to my own devices.
I was harmless, sure, but there wasn’t much I wouldn’t do if it meant getting what I wanted.