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Perhaps if I was here alone, it would be possible to enjoy the ambiance. But in this environment, one needs to be constantly on guard and watching your back.
Otherwise, you’ll find yourself stabbed in it.
A bark of laughter shatters my thoughts and I’m jarred back to the present. As soon as my gaze collides with Jasper, he waves impatiently. He and his friends are seated at the table centered directly in the middle of the cafeteria. Only the most popular people are allowed to sit there. At Hawthorne Prep, there’s a strict social hierarchy that is adhered to. Being invited to lunch at the epicenter of it is much akin to receiving a golden invitation that solidifies your popularity at the prep school. The inner ring of tables surrounding the coveted one is known as the second tier. The rings continue to fan outward until they reach the edges of the cafeteria.
The furthest one from the center is known as no man’s land.
The goal of everyone who sits at the outer tiers is to gradually work their way inward. Even moving a couple rings is an accomplishment to be celebrated and unlocks coveted social invitations.
I’m something of an anomaly. Given that I’m a scholarship kid, I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the center.
Trust me, I’ve heard all the grumblings.
Especially from other girls.
Ever since I started dating Jasper, my social standing has skyrocketed.
At first, I was thrilled by the attention. When you’re used to being invisible, having popularity thrust upon you can go straight to your head. Suddenly, there were football games, parties, and hanging out with the elite of Hawthorne Prep. I’d stupidly thought they would become friendlier now that I was one of them.
But that’s the problem—I’m still not one of them.
I’m Jasper’s girlfriend from the wrong side of town whose mother works as a secretary in the school office. It didn’t take long for the rose-colored glasses to fall away.
The other exception to the rigid social structure at HP is Duke Carmichael. Like me, he’s a townie here on scholarship. He’s also one of Kingsley’s friends, which means he’s been grudgingly accepted by his peers.
Ironically, the blond, muscular boy doesn’t give a crap about popularity. He has the tendency to hang back from social situations with watchful, whiskey-colored eyes. Nothing gets past him.
Unlike Kingsley, he doesn’t play football. He’s a lacrosse guy. Duke stands well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and brawny arms. His hair is slightly longish and always disheveled in a way that looks intentional. Especially when he plows a big hand through it.
Except that’s not the case. I’ve known him since elementary school, and he’s never given a damn about those kinds of superficial things.
Even though I’ve never been interested in Duke, it would be impossible not to notice how the starched white material of his button-down strains across his chest and bulging biceps. Any moment, it’ll burst at the seams. His presence is as intimidating as the permanent scowl etched across his face.
Here’s the thing about Duke—he’s always been kind to me. I think it’s because neither of us belong at Hawthorne Prep and are just trying to navigate the shark-infested waters.
When Jasper waves for a second time, my shoulders droop, realizing that I have no choice but to join him. Not that I really thought otherwise. There would be questions if I chose to sit elsewhere. Even for a day. It seems less complicated to do what’s expected while deciding how to handle Friday night.
“Looks like you’re being summoned.”
I immediately recognize the deep voice at my ear.
How did he manage to sneak up on me when I’m always so attuned to his presence?
His warm breath feathers across the delicate flesh of my neck as he steps closer until the heat of his body can radiate against my backside.
“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
I press my lips together, needing to keep the response buried deep inside. There’s no way for me to admit the truth.
That I hate it.
And I’m starting to hate Jasper, too.
Or maybe I already do.
“What’s the matter? You don’t have an answer?”
“No,” I whisper, barely moving my lips.
