Say the Word(26)

My throat worked against the lump that had lodged itself painfully in my airway and I studiously ignored the lance of pain that shot into my heart as thoughts tumbled through my mind unchecked. I wanted to tear my eyes from him yet, being an eternal glutton for punishment, I couldn’t look away as he made his way toward Jeanine’s office without a backward glance at me.

“So that’s him, huh?” Fae’s voice snapped me out of my trance, and when I turned my eyes to face her she was looking at me with more than a little concern. “He’d be sexy if he weren’t so serious.”

I nodded slowly, my mind reeling with thoughts.

Why was he here?

Did Cara send him?

Was he going to report me to Jeanine?

Was I about to lose my job?

“I take it the break up didn’t go well?” Fae asked.

I nodded again.

“I have a feeling this particular Fae Friday is going to call for extra tequila.”

“You can say that again,” I agreed, collapsing into my desk chair with a deep sigh.





Chapter Ten





Then


“Lux! Hey, wait up!”

Crap.

I sped up my pace, weaving between clusters of people in the crowded hallway as I headed for the exit. Once the final bell rang, the halls filled with a cacophony of voices as my peers gossiped about the happenings of the day. I always made a point to visit my locker before last period so I could avoid the 3:00 p.m. corridor traffic jam and escape outside to catch my bus.

“Lux!” The voice was persistent and, if I wasn’t mistaken, faintly amused by my dodging efforts.

Maybe he’d give up if I just ignored him. He’d think I hadn’t heard his calls and move on. The exit was directly ahead, just ten feet away — I could make it.

“Hey!” His voice was closer now, definitely within hearing range and near enough for him to know that I’d either developed a hearing impairment overnight or was blatantly ignoring him.

Tough call.

Still intent on escape, I finally cleared the exit doors, relieved when they closed behind me to shut out the noisy hallway and my pursuer.

I hiked my backpack higher on my shoulder and started walking toward the bus stop.

“You know, I should be offended,” his voice whispered in my ear. I jumped about a foot into the air, whirling around to face him. I hadn’t even heard him exit the building — he must’ve made it outside before the door swung closed.

He stood grinning down at me, the only spot of color in the dreary, bleached out January landscape. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. A lock of hair had fallen in front of his eyes, and I had the sudden urge to reach up and push it back for him. Internally cursing myself, I managed to keep my hands to myself.

“Most girls run toward me, not away as fast as their feet can carry them,” Sebastian noted.

“Did you need something?” I asked quietly, my breath puffing visibly in the crisp air.

“Need? No.” He stepped closer to me, lifting one hand to rub at the light stubble on his jawline. “Want? Yes.”

“Well, what do you want?” My voice practically squeaked with nerves. I moved back a step out of his space, casting my eyes down at the ground. The grass beneath my sneakers was dead and gray, flattened against the hard-packed earth.

“I want to give you a ride home.”

My eyes snapped away from my shoes, up to examine his face. His teasing grin was gone, in its place a serious expression. “Why?” I asked.

“Do I need a reason?”

“You’re Sebastian Covington,” I said, only just managing to leave off the implied duh at the end of that statement.

“And you’re Lux Kincaid,” he replied, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips.

“So you see the problem here.” I spoke slowly, as if to a small child who wasn’t quite getting the concept.

“Nope,” he said, grinning full out. “I don’t.”

I titled my head sideways. “Are you being purposefully obtuse?”

“I’m not sure. Let me think on it. Why don’t you ask me again while I’m driving you home?”

He leaned forward and grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together as though it was the most natural thing in the world for the two of us — two strangers from completely different worlds, with nothing at all in common — to be holding hands. With a gentle tug, he pulled me in the opposite direction of the bus stop, toward the student parking lot.

“I don’t understand you,” I murmured quietly, the entirety of my attention riveted on the warm, unfamiliar point of contact between his palm and mine.

“See, the thing is, Lux,” he said in an equally quiet voice. “I think you might be the only one who can.”

I nearly laughed. What could I possibly understand about him? We had nothing in common.

No sooner had the thought entered my mind, than an image of his face from that rainy day in the car last week flashed before my eyes.

I saw the bashful flush on his cheeks as he spoke of his love for music. Heard the underlying hurt as he casually dismissed his mother’s beliefs about his inadequacies. Replayed the uncertain canter of his voice as he talked about himself — as though he didn’t really know who he was.