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“Get off your high horse, princess. What part of‘I am trying’don’t you get? Maybe you concentrate just fine but I can’t, especially after the surges and not sleeping and…” He throws the pen at the front of the classroom and gets up. “Fuck.”
“Jax wait. Wait!”
But he’s already heading out, ignoring the teacher who’s calling out his name and the snickering of the other students.
Before I realize it, I’m on my feet, too, gathering my stuff—and his—and going after him. “Jax!”
“Miss Apollinari,” the teacher yells, “where doyouthink you’re going? Class isn’t over.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, and then I’m out, letting the door close behind me. Where has he gone? I walk a few steps and catch a glimpse of his tall form striding away in the direction of the stadium.
Carrying both his backpack and mine, I hurry after him, not sure why. What will I say to him?
Well, at least his backpack gives me an excuse.
“Jax!”
“Go back to class!” he calls out without turning.
“No way. I got your things!”
“I don’t give a shit about my things.” His strides are at least twice as long as mine, so I end up jogging after him.
“Wait!”
He doesn’t stop until he’s among the trees. This small grove stands at some distance from the stadium, between the gym and the dormitories. It’s in fact where I found Emrys when he was wounded.
“Will you slow down?” I pant. “Not all of us play sports. I’m a little out of shape.”
He grunts something I don’t make out.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Awesome. Want me to believe that now you care?”
“Hey, not fair,” I mutter.
“Shit, sorry.” He turns toward me, eyes glittering with an emotion I can’t name. He reaches for his backpack, and I pass it over to him. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem.”
He frowns at me. “Aren’t you going back to class?”
I shrug. “I don’t care much for French, either.”
A smile tugs at his full lips. “I’m a bad influence. Walk with me, then?”
I shouldn’t. I realize that I wanted to see if he was okay, and he obviously is, so why don’t I walk away?
Instead, I fall into step beside him as he winds among the trees. “You didn’t sleep well last night?”
He shakes his head. “Couldn’t.”
“Does that happen often? Is your shoulder bothering you?”
“Shoulder’s fine.” He rolls it a little. “Shoulder’s not the problem.”
“Then what is? The surges?”
