“Don’t ask,” I mutter, accepting the hand he holds out to help me to my feet.
“Callie’s our new squeaky toy,” Nolan informs gleefully. “Look.”
Then he pokes me again which elicits another “Eep!”
Mirth dances in Connor’s eyes as I groan, accepting that this is going to be a thing now. He’s dressed in his normal jeans, boots, and hooded jacket, but chose a chocolate brown Henley today, proving he does own something other than button up flannel shirts. The tighter fit shirt follows the lines of his body, accenting the hard cut lines of the sensuous muscles underneath.
Nolan kicks off from the lockers, moves up next to Felix, and while adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, he asks, “Hey, I have a quiz in Algebra 2 this morning. Want to help with that?”
Felix shrugs. “Sure. What are ghost friends for?”
Kaleb does one of hislooking for patiencestares at the ceiling.
“You can’t be serious!” I hiss, which only seems to amuse Nolan, Felix and Connor. “You can’t cheat on a test.”
“A quiz. Not a test,” Nolan corrects matter-of-factly, as if that makes all the difference. “And I have a literal math genius here that no one in my class can see or hear. It’s a wasted opportunity not to.”
Felix holds his hands to his chest. “Awww. I feel so appreciated.”
“And I love you for your brains, not just your good looks,” Nolan says with a cheeky grin.
While they laugh, I check the ceiling to see if I can find the patience Kaleb is looking for. Mostly, I see gum and water stains.
Nolan offers up a “later” as goodbye, and he and Felix head toward Nolan’s first class of the day.
“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d be lecturing you right now!” I bellow after them, and get chuckling and dismissive waves back from both of them.
“You’re welcome to keep trying,” Kaleb sighs, his gaze shifting from the ceiling to my face, “but I’ve already gone through lengthy reasoning on why Felix shouldn’t help Nolan cheat. I might as well be talking to a brick wall-- then again I’m starting to wonder if I’ve turned into white noise by this point.”
“It sucks when you have to be the stick in the mud,” I sympathize, and Connor snorts.
Kaleb gives him a hard side eye, before replying, “I have a hard time not saying something when there’s a clear right and wrong, even if it falls on deaf ears.”
Connor’s face turns blank, but the wild energy that surrounds him I can almost feel tighten around his very being-- shifting from a careful control to a strangling noose. I want so desperately to be wrong, but there’s a painful knowing that slices through me. A tether of silence binds us that I know I should break, but how? How can I help him when I couldn’t help myself?
The morning bell rings, and I push the thoughts away before they can drown me.
Kaleb looks around confused. “Where’s Donovan? He’s supposed to be here to walk with Callie to class.”
“Maybe he got held up?” I answer. “It’s fine. I can…”
“I’ll take her,” Connor offers, his voice low and difficult to hear over the surrounding chaos of students rushing off to class.
“You don’t have to…” I attempt to interject.
“No, that won’t work,” Kaleb replies, crossing his arms. His fingers tap out a random pattern on his pronounced bicep. “You already have too many tardies. Any more and you’ll end up with detention. I should be okay to do it this time-- I’m never really late.”
Talk about deaf ears.
“Guys!” I yell, gaining their attention. “I can walk myself. Have two working legs and everything.”
They trade looks that I don’t understand, but before they can argue, I pick up my backpack, tell them I’ll see them both later, then disappear into the stream of students. I’m so short, I’m nearly impossible to find within the crowd. Their concern is-- touching? --but confusing.What do they think will happen to me walking from one side of the school to the other?
On my way to class, I find Donovan staring at one of those windowed displays where schools put up announcements and highlighted achievements. His black hair is wet and brushed back, leaving nothing to obscure the scowl on his face. He seems oblivious to the people frenziedly walking around him, as well that the morning bell has rung.
The smell of musk and his leather jacket fills my nose, as I walk up beside him. Tentatively I murmur, “Donovan?”
“It was supposed to be me,” he answers, seemingly unsurprised by my presence despite looking like he’s lost in another world.
