Page 268 of Ruthless Court

“Nothing.”

“Good.”

I place the ball on the table too hard.

It rolls, hits a stack of folders, and falls to the carpet.

Kane catches it before it reaches the chairs.

“Clumsy.”

“Annoying.”

“Distracted.”

“Arrogant.”

“Interested.”

The word hangs between us.

He sets the ball aside.

I look at the clock.

“Our hour is up.”

“We have six minutes.”

“I’m donating them.”

I shove my notebook into my bag.

Kane picks up the Twizzlers.

I hold out my hand.

He returns them without taking one.

That may be the most unsettling part of the night.

He walks me back to Briar.

I let him because the path is dark and because arguing would add another fifteen minutes beside him.

Neither of us speaks for the first half of the walk.

Leaves crunch beneath our shoes. Cold air slips through the opening of my coat. Kane stays close enough that our shoulders nearly touch.

Nearly.

Every step becomes an almost.

At the stone arch before Briar Hall, I stop.

“So.”

“So,” he repeats.