She pauses, pivots back to me, and her brow creases. “No allergies, right? If I get something with nuts in it, I won’t find myself having to dig through your bag for an epi pen or anything?”
I shake my head. “No allergies.”
She gives a firm nod and resumes her voyage for whipped cream and mini marshmallows sprayed with pink glitter. Are all brand new best friends quite as mother hen-y and considerate? Having nothing to compare it to, I don’t have an answer, but it was definitely nice of her to ask.
The bell over the door of the café chimes as the door opens and a blast of cold air sweeps through the warm space. A loud group of guys make their way inside, and I roll my eyes. My peace and quiet is on the line, and I really don’t want to move from this little corner of heaven.
One of them pulls a chair out from the table they’ve chosen and spins it so it’s backward before he slides onto it. His movements are graceful, dancer-like, even if he looks like an idiot sitting back to front on a chair with a backward ball cap on his head and a lazy grin on his—oh, no.
That grin was attached to a wink that night in the alley. That grin was attached to twinkling chocolate brown eyes filled with promises of mischief and nasty, nasty sex at the gym.
That is a dangerous grin, and I need to look away.
Please, God, don’t let him see me. Please, God, don’t let him see me.
I don’t know who the guys are, but they all look kinda buff. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re all jocks.
I’m trying to peel my eyes away from him, but something about that grin is utterly magnetizing.
“Why are we staring at Ares de la Peña like he hung the moon?” My new friend Victoria places two super-full mugs of hot chocolate onto the table before taking her seat.
Ares.
It’s an unusual name, and it most definitely suits him. Even as a new freshman, I’ve heard of the de la Peñas. There’s a bench on campus that’s sponsored by their father, and he donates a ton of money to the school every year.
“Don’t think I can’t see you behind that shield of pink hair. I know exactly who you’re staring at.” Her voice is low, tinged with amusement, and when I look over at her, understanding flashes in her eyes. No judgment, no mocking, no expectation. Huh.
I’m not talking about it, about him. Not with a stranger, not on our first get together. Not even our first get together, but our very first encounter. We aren’t there yet. Oversharing isn’t my thing. But something about how she’s looking at me tells me I don’t have to. It’s like she already knows.
She cradles her mug between both hands and drags her tongue through the whipped cream. “I can see it.” Her gaze flicks to the way-too-loud table of rambunctious boys drawing attention from almost everyone in the coffee shop. “You’d be cute together.”
I fight the urge to recoil, but I’m not sure my body got the memo. “I couldn’t ever be with him.” I temper my brewing snort to a derisive laugh.
She sips on her drink, sliding back in her chair. “But you want to be.”
His fingers clenched in the other guy’s hair, their hips slapping together.
My face burns. I thought I’d be past it by now, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream the replay every single night since. And sometimes mornings too.
I risk another glance over at him, and my new friend’s smirk grows.
Do I want to be with him?
Perhaps before I knew who he was. But he’s a de la Peña. It’s UCR’s worst kept secret that those kids are largely only here because their parents are rich. I meet her eyes again.
“He’s the youngest.” She takes another casual sip, as though she’s discussing something she watched on TV last night. “The bad boy.”
My stomach flaps, and every cell in my body struggles with the idea that I might be attracted to a “bad boy.”
Before the accident, I had been a straight-A student my whole life. I never skipped a day of school, never flunked a test, and always turned my homework in on time. Ares wasn’t wrong when he called me a nerd. It washowhe said it that bothered me. With contempt, like he’s allergic to books or something.
I widen my eyes at Victoria to suggest right now really isn’t the time. She nods, reading the subtext and taking another slurp of her drink, getting a little sparkly whipped cream on her nose. I can’t risk him hearing us talking about him, or worse, actually seeing me. He’d probably ignore me in front of all his cool guy friends, but on the off chance he might talk to me, I keep my head down.
Instead of turning my attention back to my books, I pull out my phone and type Ares’s name into the search browser. Holy cannoli, there’s a lot of stuff on here about him.
With everything I have I fight looking at him while I scroll. He’s our hockey team’s new goaltender, which means he’s probably the one I kept watching the night I went to the game with Dad. That also explains the graceful movements. Man, thinking back, I want to fan myself. That boy is… bendy.
The more I scroll, the more stories I find about crazy parties, sex, drugs, and a rock-and-roll lifestyle that is likely bankrolled by Daddy Moneybags.
