We stop at locker number 23, my locker according to the info in PowerScholar, the program this school uses for grades and whatnot. I’d very thoroughly read through everything in it, multiple times, and made a few notes in my planner to circle back to later. One thing I’d made sure to do was memorize my locker number and the combination. There’s not much to put in it on the first day but there will be soon, and nobody wants to walk around all day carrying eighty pounds of books in their bag, or get locked out and be unprepared for class because they can’t remember their combo.
“Noah, hush, you’re gonna scare Dacen away.” Evie pulls her phone out of her back pocket and checks the time. “Remember this is his first day here. I’m kind of partial to him and would like him to stick around.”
“Ohhh, right.” Noah leans back against the locker next to mine with his arms crossed. “Are you excited? Nervous? Blah?”
“All of the above. Um, what’s up with this locker?” I clear the lock again and re-enter the combination. I hear a click like it unlocks, but the door doesn’t budge when I pull up on the lever.
“Ah, yeah, they do that once in a while. They’re really old in case you hadn’t noticed. Pretty sure they’re from like the fifties or something. Sometimes to loosen it up you gotta give it a good smashing.” He mimes a hitting motion with one hand.
Great. Defective lockers. A loud snort to my left catches my attention. Tyler stands a few lockers down, slams his locker door shut, and saunters over.
“You offering up a good smashing, Keller? I might know someone who’s interested.” Tyler winks at Noah, who blushes cherry tomato red, and then slams his palm into my locker.
A yelp slips from me as my body jerks from the noise. I jump back and collide with a wall. A walking, talking, growly—I glance behind me… yep, definitely growly—wall.
“What the hell?” Ryne’s deep voice rumbles in my ear and his breath tickles my neck. Goosebumps pop up and embarrassingly a little shiver follows.
Shuffling to the side, my cheeks heat as I brush the front of my outfit. Not that there’s anything to brush off, except maybe my fleeting confidence in this being a good day.Yep, there it goes, fluttering away down the hall.
“Hey.” Tyler lifts his chin toward Ryne, who stands there staring from person to person. “Lockers,” he continues by way of explanation and then turns back to Noah.
This is not how I envisioned my first encounter with Ryne at school. I turn to face the row of lockers again, relieved to hear Evie, Tyler, and Noah chatting away at my side, so I have a moment to myself. I take a deep breath and exhale to the count of ten.
I’m okay. I’ve totally got this.
A few of my earlier nerves settle, only to be replaced by an entirely different set of nerves. Ones that crackle and fire when anywhere near the same vicinity as Ryne. They’re sparking like crazy right now.
“Ya mind moving the fuck over?” Ryne’s question is directed at me.
“Excuse me?” Then I look up and realize I’m in front of locker 24 now, instead of number 23. “Oh. Excuse me.” I swiftly move aside. He steps up to the locker and unlocks it with ease. Lucky bastard. “Of all the lockers in this place, yours has to be next to mine? And properly functioning? Figures.”
Ryne tosses a few things inside and slams the door shut. He’s got a smirk on his face when he turns toward me and drags his eyes over my body with no pretense whatsoever. The ever-present flame in my gut when he’s around flares even hotter. There was no practice over the weekend so it’s been a few days since we’ve seen each other. I never know if I should expect aggression or tension of a different nature from him. Maybe a little of both today by the look in his eyes.
I make a quick sweep of his outfit and inhale sharply. The shirt he’s wearing is ridiculously hot and almost looks like it was painted on his body. The way the material hugs his arms is particularly wicked. I’ve never been a huge fan of camouflage. It seems I’ve never seen the sexy kind though, which I suspect has more to do with the hot body underneath it rather than the material itself.
I clear my throat. “Nice shirt. It’s very…”
“Hot.” Tyler fills in the blank for me from where he stands with a giant grin on his face. “Don’t look at me like that, Ryne. I can appreciate your aesthetically pleasing nature and still be grossed out by the thought of ever doing anything with you.”
Ryne yanks a sheet of paper out of the notebook in his hands, crumples it up, and pings Tyler in the head with it. I want to laugh but I also want to live so I hold it in.
“I was going to say it’s very monochromatic.” It is monochromatic, in various shades of white, grey, and black, but that’s not at all what’s going through my head.
Ryne looks down at his shirt. “It’s digital snow camo.”
I wrinkle my nose. “There’s camouflage specifically for the snow? And it’s computerized?”
Tyler and Ryne look at me like I’ve just sprouted a horn. Noah walks back over and pats me on the arm. Even Evie giggles.
“You have much to learn.” His fingers linger on my arm a moment.
Ryne’s scowl deepens as he takes in Noah’s hand, and then he jerks his gaze up to my face. There’s a storm brewing inside him again. A strand of hair falls over his forehead and he flicks it back. Our eyes lock and I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“What?” The way he stares at me is unsettling.
“I have zero patience for Northern losers who ask dumb-ass questions.”
My stomach churns and blood rushes through my veins. Oh God, I am one of those weird, clueless Northerners. It’s like when someone from the U.S. asks someone in another country what state they live in. There’s more to the South than heat, gnats, and sweet tea. Apparently, camo patterns are a sacred entity and I’ve committed an egregious sin with my lack of knowledge.
