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A quizzical line forms between his brows. “Why would I kid about something like that?”
I shrug. “Because there’s no way that guy would want to date me.”
“Why would you think that?” he wonders. “I mean, I don’t want you to date him, but I’m curious to know why you think the possibility of him wanting to date you is so crazy.”
I shift my weight and shrug. “Because he’s an FH.”
His mouth quirks upward. “And you’re not?”
“No,” I annunciate the word.
He eyes me over curiously. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t really matter to me whether or not I’m an FH,” I say, avoiding the question, “because I don’t care if I am or not.”
“And now you’re avoiding the question.”
What is he? A freakin’ mind reader or something?
“I’m not an FH. And I don’t care if I am.”
He steps toward me. “Yeah, you are one. But it’s okay if you don’t want to agree with me yet. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He takes another step toward me and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, causing flutters of confusion to dance through me. “And being an FH doesn’t need to matter to you, but as your BFF, I do need to tell you that you are beautiful and totally beyond fuckable. I thought that from the second I saw you in the office.” He smiles at me, and this strange sense of familiarity washes over me.
I can’t help thinking about that dream I had about the blond-haired boy and how he sort of reminded me of Hunter. But it was just a dream. And even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t mean that the blond-haired boy was him.
Then I realize what he just said to me, and my cheeks start to warm. I don’t know what the hell to do with it. I hardly ever get embarrassed anymore, but right now, I’m definitely veering toward that direction.
I’m about to bail, run off like a freak, go around the school and smoke until I can’t feel the warmth on my cheeks anymore, but again, I swear Hunter knows what I’m thinking because he says, “Let’s get you to class, okay?”
I nod, relief washing through me.
He smiles at me, and I smile back, feeling a bit better.
I wish the feeling could last, but as we head inside, I take one last glimpse over my shoulder and any relief I felt fizzles when I find that Porter is still staring at me, this time with a huge grin on his face.
5
Raven
Jax and Zayare waiting for us when Hunter and I enter the school. Jax is leaning against the wall near the display cases, but he straightens when we walk in. Zay is on his phone, reading what I assume is either a really intense article or a text from someone he’s not a fan of, judging by his expression. The hallways are empty, something I appreciate. Of course, about a second later, I became aware that I’m still going to have to walk into first period late. And since this school is on a block schedule, it’s a class I’ve never been to before.
“Give me a second, and I’ll get us all excused for being late,” Hunter tells us then turns to me. “What class do you have first period?”
“Let me see.” I dig my schedule out of my pocket and look at it. “English.”
Hunter leans over my shoulder to look at my schedule. “Well, the good news is you have it with Jax.”
That makes me relax a smidgeon. At least I won’t have to walk in late to class alone.
“And Jax is a poet,” Hunter informs me. “So, if you suck at English, he can help you.”
“Actually, I like English,” I say. “Books are awesome.”
That gets Jax to smile. He remains quiet, though. I think he might be the most soft-spoken of the three. Or maybe he’s just mysterious … I don’t know, but I find myself curious about the guy with the beautiful smile.
“I’ll be right back,” Hunter says then spins on his heels and saunters into the office.
As the door slowly swings shut, I hear the receptionist say, “Mr. Hathingford, don’t even try to get me to write I pass for you. I told you yesterday …” Her voice fades as the door softly clicks shut.
