Page 91 of Safe Place

“Hey!” I whisper back, swatting at him, but warmth spreads through me. It’s messy and ordinary, and I can’t stop thinking how strange it is that I’ve slipped into this group like I belong here.

By the time we’re sprawled around the living room in food comas, the conversation drifts to the upcoming Evergreen Gala.

Grant stretches out with a groan. “Ah, the night Vale gets to play prince charming in a tux. We should place bets on how many society moms try to introduce him to their daughters.”

Poppy nudges me. “So did you find a dress yet?”

“I already have a dress that’s basically new, so I thought I’d just wear that,” I say, looking at Micah. It’s the black one he gave me for my birthday. It’s elegant, expensive, and I’ve only worn it once.

“I can’t wait for the gala,” Grant says with a grin. “Mostly to watch Micah drool all over you in front of important people.”

“I heard Margot Whitmore’s going to be there.” Micah says.

Grant glances up. “What? Isn’t she in California?”

“Apparently she’s transferring to Westcliffe in the spring.”

“Who’s Margot Whitmore?” I ask.

Grant smiles, but for some reason it looks forced. “Think princess-heiress. Real-life Barbie.”

“But don’t let that fool you,” Micah adds dryly. “She may look like a Barbie on the outside, but she’s an absolute menace on the inside.”

I blink. “Jeez. What’d she do to you?”

“She and Micah were like academic rivals,” Grant answers. “She beat you though, right?”

“No.” Micah is firm. “Our GPAs were exactly the same. She was just more of a teacher’s pet. That’s the only reason she was the valedictorian.”

“Oof,” Wyatt chimes in. “Now I wish I could go and see the girl who pushed Micah Vale to second place.”

“You’re not going?” I ask Wyatt quickly, sensing this is about to spiral and deciding to steer us out of dangerous territory.

“I was planning to, but I can’t. Exams.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “My dad will be there, though. You should say hi.”

My eyes widen. “Wait—you mean the Judge Lawrence Wynn? Okay, now I’m excited.” The squeal in my voice makes me wince. Definitely sounded a lot cooler in my head.

“I’m standing right here, baby,” Micah mutters. But that smile gives him away.

Eventually, Poppy stands, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “I should head out. Got studying to do.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” I ask automatically.

She answers too quickly. “No, no. I’m sure you were going to stay here anyway.”

Before I can answer, Wyatt sets the remote aside and stands. “I should head out too. I’ll walk with Poppy.”

“Make sure she gets to her car, yeah? Should be safe enough around here, but it’s still dark,” Micah says.

“Of course,” Wyatt replies, lightly guiding Poppy toward the elevator with a hand at the small of her back. “Come on, let’s go.”

MICAH

The bathroom door clicks open, and then she’s there—fresh-faced, hair damp, swimming in one of my tees that hangs loose on her thighs. My chest tightens. She’s not just beautiful—though God, she is—but she’s comfortable. In short sleeves. With the scar she no longer hides from me, out in the open. She’s here, in my space, unguarded.

It knocks the air out of me.

“Sophie, you look better in my clothes than I ever could,” I say.