I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I’d love to tell him the truth. I really would.
That I’m not fully human. That my wolf exploded out of me like some kind of lunar supernova. That I’m mated. Mated to the guy with the icy blue eyes and the future of a whole pack riding on his shoulders.
But Rick’s human.
And humans aren’t supposed to know.
“I didn’t light anything on fire,” I say, trying to keep it light. “Just... stood up to Cassie. That alone probably earned me a spot in the gossip hall of fame.”
He whistles. “Yeah, well, careful. I heard she’s been glaring holes in your locker door like she’s trying to unlock it with hate.”
I shrug. “She lost. She’ll recover.”
Rick raises an eyebrow. “You say that, but I saw the way she looked at you in trig yesterday. That girl’s plotting something. Probably with glitter and teeth.”
I snort. “That’s oddly accurate.”
Before he can say more, movement catches my eye. Graceful. Fluid. Lila Sharpe, Bolton’s younger sister, slides through the cafeteria entrance like she owns the air around her. She’s dressed in dark jeans and a black Stone Mountain hoodie, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, face partially hidden behind a pair of oversized sunglasses.
Like she’d rather be anywhere else, but plans to look good doing it.
She spots me instantly and veers off course, making a beeline toward our table.
Rick straightens. “Uh-oh. Incoming Sharpe.”
“Be nice,” I mumble.
Lila stops at the edge of the table, arms crossed, sunglasses still on even though we’re indoors.
She nods at Rick. “Human.”
Rick blinks. “Okay. That’s… not ominous at all.”
She turns to me. “Walk with me?”
I glance at Rick. “Be right back.”
He throws up his hands. “Sure. I love being left out of mysterious, half-coded conversations.”
Lila’s already moving.
I follow her out the side doors near the vending machines, into the narrow strip of sunlit pavement between the cafeteria and the gym. The noise from the lunch crowd fades behind us.
Lila pulls off her sunglasses and finally looks at me.
It’s the first time we’ve spoken since the challenge.
“You good?” she says after a beat.
I blink. “You mean after nearly getting my ribs cracked by a girl who thinks eyeliner is a personality trait?”
Lila smirks. “I mean after shifting for the first time in front of half the senior class and everyone who’s ever sniffed a tree and thought it was sacred.”
“Right. That.”
Silence stretches between us. She leans against the brick wall, arms folded, watching me with this measured expression that makes me feel like I’m being weighed on some invisible scale.
“You look different,” she says finally.
