Under my thumb, right against the inside of his wrist, a fast, hard beat jumped against my skin. His pulse was hammering like a trapped bird.
“Your heart is racing,” I pointed out.
“Let go of me.” Karter’s voice lacked its usual smooth control. The words came out tight, almost breathless.
“I’m not stopping you.” I didn’t loosen my grip. The heat radiating off his skin was undeniable, grounding me in the sudden tension between us. “Damn, Johnston,” I muttered, myvoice dropping low and coming out rough. “You actuallylikethis.”
A beat passed. He then shoved my shoulder hard, catching me off guard just enough to loosen my grip. Karter yanked his arm back, his chest heaving with a frantic breath.
“I prefer to pass my classes,” he snapped. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
A deep blush stained his throat, crawling right up to his cheeks. He glared at me, dragging in uneven breaths. His mouth was talking shit, but his body was telling me a completely different story.
A dark, vicious jolt of adrenaline hit my gut. The golden boy wasn’t untouchable. He was just as messed up over this as I was.
It was a dangerous realization. But before I could push it further, Karter shoved his chair back.
Snatching his notebook off the table, he dumped his pens into his bag, and ripped the zipper closed. Without saying another word, I followed suit, shoving my own stuff into my duffel just as fast.
The elevator ride up to the lobby that followed felt like a tight, hostile standoff. Neither of us said a thing. And it wasn’t until we hit the freezing street outside that I felt the tension ease from my shoulders.
The wind bit into my skin the second we pushed through the glass doors.
Following three steps behind Karter on the icy sidewalk, my eyes tracked the stiff way he walked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark wool coat.
That single piece of clothing probably cost more than my mom’s rent and groceries for an entire month. My teeth ground together. Needing his help was the only way to keep my scholarship, yet walking behind him forced my hands to ball into fists.
The urge to punch a locker spiked. Barring that, pushing Karter until he broke felt like the next best option.
Karter slowed, but didn’t turn around. “Why do you actually hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” I slowed down as well, pausing to kick a chunk of ice into the street. “I hate rich legacy kids who think the rules don’t apply to them.”
“It’s not just because of my last name,” Karter went on, his voice tightening. “You’ve been looking for a reason to snap since the day I moved into the attic.”
I closed the distance, my longer stride easily eating up the space until I was walking right beside him.
“Because youchoseto be there,” I snapped.
His eyes remained locked straight ahead. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You could be up in the luxury suites with the rest of your lot.” My voice ran rough with years of resentment. “But you decided to come down to the house to play soldier.”
Karter shook his head. “I’m not playing anything.”
“You’re slumming it,” I argued. “You look at me, at us, at the way we live, like we’re animals in a zoo for you to study.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’m not your fucking poverty project.” I stepped right in front of him, forcing him to stop. “And I’m not your ticket to feeling like you’ve seen the real world.”
The snow hitting his face went ignored. His hand reached up, fingers digging into the back of his neck.
“You think this is a game to me?” Karter asked.
“Isn’t it?”
“You think I’m doing this for the experience?” He scoffed, dropping his hand. “I’m in that drafty attic because my last name is a shackle.”
