Xander was a super genius in an athlete’s body, and in the shorttime I’d gotten to know him, he’d proven himself to be a good guy too…who happened to be smitten with Emery Wallace.
They’re the best guys in my sphere, and one is taken-ish, and dating the other would be like dating my brother. I’m on a roll.
“I was just wondering how Dean maintains his status as a saint among us mere mortals,” I said.
Xander chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering that myself.”
“This one here,” Dean said, jerking his chin at Xander, “handles pressure by getting out on the shell and rowing his guts out.”
“Ah, yes. The classic Dean deflection,” Xander teased.
“Bold of you to declare anything about me ‘classic’ when we met”—Dean pretended to check his watch—“a mere six weeks ago.”
“I agree with Xander,” I said. “You reek of modesty, Yearwood.”
Dean muttered something and looked away, while Xander and I exchanged smiles, the three of us falling deeper, somehow, into friendship in that moment. But for Dean’s sake, Xander changed the subject.
“We’ve got a good crew. Dean is the best of the bunch—of course,” he said, not letting him off the hook completely. “Kai and Henry are pretty decent. But I’d say Orion is the only other guy I’d trust.”
Dean nodded. “Orion’s a good guy. Like, heart-of-gold good.”
Dammit.
“Really? What’s he like?” I plucked a blade of grass and tried to sound casual as hell. “I mean…out of curiosity.”
I looked up to see Dean watching me. I glanced away, more blades of grass dying swift and merciless deaths.
Shut up, shut up, shut up.
“He’s funny as hell,” Xander said. “Pretends he has an ego, but it’s all show.”
“Aye, he’s a king amongst the Richies but would throw down for us Benders in a heartbeat,” Dean said. “Class distinctions mean nothing to him.”
I felt him looking at me, but I refused—refused—to meet his eye. I had grass to pluck, after all.
“Agreed,” Xander said. “If it weren’t for Orion and Dean, I’m not sure I’d last very long on crew.”
“Cool,” I said, and cringed so hard I nearly gave myself a stomach cramp. By now I had a nice little pile of grass sacrificed to my mortification.
The rest of the lunch conversation moved on to other topics. I waited for Dean to bust out with an anecdote about Orion being a recreational arsonist who liked to set fire to Atlas Hall now and then. Or perhaps how he’d once gone on a tri-state killing spree and used his parents’ influence to get away with it. No dice.
Face it. He’s a good guy too.
Here I was trying to keep Orion at arm’s length, and every single thing I knew about him only made me want to draw him closer.
When the lunch bell rang, I jumped up, brushed all the grass off my skirt while avoiding Dean’s eye, and practically ran to history. With Orion. Again.
We didn’t sit next to each other—that privilege belonged to Tessa Carlyle, a pretty, auburn-haired gal who was a big deal in the Drama department. She sat in the back with Orion while I sat toward the front, my attention split, half listening to Mr. Callister drone on about Mesopotamia and half listening to Tessa whisper-giggle at every witticism that fell out of Orion’s mouth. Apparently, there were a lot.
What did you expect? That you were the only one who recognized how gorgeous, funny, and charming he is?
I rolled my eyes into my history book. If my inner voice fawned over him, why wouldn’t every girl in school do the same?
***
“I can’t stay,” I said, huddled on the aluminum bleachers that had been set up for the inaugural regatta that would take place a few days after the Halloween festival. “I have to pick up my little brother at four thirty.”
“It won’t be long now,” Emery said, leaning forward.
