Hostile(15)

Everyone around here knows Bree Moore is totally off-limits. The girl only hangs out with Rhett and Fletcher—wanting no part of any of us, just like Rhett.

Is he in love with her? Is that why he draws her? Does she love him back?

I try to shake away the sickening, hot feeling torturing me at that thought. Of course, they’re in love. They aren’t related, and they’re totally inseparable. Except for the last couple of weeks.

It’s weird to see her standing alone.

“Mark my words, she’s going to be my future wife.” I narrow my eyes at him, and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Or my next fuck.”

“No.” I surprise myself with the growled-out answer, but I stay firm. “You’re not touching Bree. Don’t even go near her.”

Why I feel the need to protect her above all the other girls I’ve listened to my dumbass friends talk about over the year, I don’t know. She’s the last one who actually needs my help. Rhett and Fletcher pretty much have that covered.

“What?” He sounds as surprised as I am at the fierceness in my tone.

“You heard me. Leave her alone.”

He studies me cautiously, his eyes darting to her and then to me. “Oh my god.”

“What?” I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me, as if he’s come to some big revelation.

“Bree.” He leans in closer, and I’m trying to catch up to what he thinks he knows. “She’s the one.”

“The one what?”

He waggles his eyebrows, looking so damn amused, it’s freaking me out. “The. One.” His grin widens as he looks around at no one and then back at me. “The one who has you whipped. The reason I can’t ever get you to have any fun.”

Oh Jesus. “No.”

He laughs to himself, slouching back in his chair. “Right. Why else would you give a damn if I go after her then?”

“Because she doesn’t like you.”

He chuckles. “Since when has that stopped me? You better speak up now or I’m going to make her mine.”

He says it in a joking way, but I still don’t like it. Why, I don’t exactly know. I was just having a jealous fit over the girl for having the guy I want, but still, I don’t want guys like Josh going after her. Not that she can’t hold her own. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

He only beams with a bright smile, like he’s solved some mystery. He glances back at her, shaking his head. “Damn. I knew it had to be someone pretty special, but Bree Moore . . . Holy fuck.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

What’s one more rumor? And it’s not like I flat-out lied, right?

I don’t have time to think it through any longer because my eyes are hooked on Rhett as he enters the lunchroom, his backpack thrown haphazardly over his shoulder as he talks to Fletcher, who’s at his side.

I watch as he gives a quick head nod to Bree—that’s frankly awkward as fuck—and she offers the barest of smiles back before he waves to both and leaves Fletcher to talk to Bree.

What the hell was that about?

I don’t waste any more time and jump out of my chair, leaving my friends behind and following Rhett as he heads to the courtyard outside the lunchroom. It’s fairly chilly today, but I’m fine in a long-sleeved Henley.

Rhett turns around, not seeming all that surprised at my stalker antics at this point. “Skipping lunch?”

“I had some chips. Why are you following me?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t tell me to fuck off and only stands there, one eyebrow raised, telling me to get on with it.

“What are you doing tonight?”

He looks suspicious now, running his hand through his tousled hair and shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing. Why?”

I grin. “Because we’re friends. I could come over.” He shakes his head and starts to head to the other side of the courtyard so he can enter the hall leading to the art room, but I catch up to him. “I’ll bring food.”

He stops and looks like he’s thinking it over. “You have a whole group of friends. I saw them.” He gestures toward the lunchroom. “Why don’t you go bug them?”

My grin only widens. “You’re more fun.” He snorts, but I’m not getting the same fuck-off vibe I usually get from him. Progress. “We can watch Netflix and eat pizza.”

“I don’t have Netflix.”

“I don’t care.”

He studies me quietly, probably trying to decide what the hell my deal is, and honestly, if he finds out, I hope he’ll tell me. I haven’t ever been this enamored with anyone in my life. Maybe I’m just bored—but something about Rhett is intriguing.

Adopted. Volunteers with kids in his free time. Hell of an artist. Probably straight.

And I can’t stop thinking about him.

“Fine.”

“What?” I’m so shocked by his answer, I have to ask again.

He gives me the smallest of smiles, his fingers digging into his thick hair. “I said fine. Eight. My place.”

“Okay.” I stand there, stunned stupid as he shakes his head, drops his hand from his hair, and walks through the door into the hall.