“We have two classes together.”
Miles frowns. “Only one. And no lunch either.”
“It’s okay guys. That’s three classes where I’ll know someone.” I nudge each of their shoulders.
Hailie, Hannah, Campbell and Niko pass us.
“Nice shirts,” Campbell laughs out and grabs at his crotch. Besides that, not a single one of them says anything or acknowledges us in any way.
“Really?” I ask. “Not even a wave?”
“Get used to it. Parties are basically the only time they hang with anyone outside of their group,” Miles says and rolls his eyes.
“Well, at least it’s only once a year?” I offer.
Lyra lets out a laugh. “More like monthly. Hailie throws a party nearly every month.”
“And we all go?” I ask, shocked. Miles and Lyra nod.
“Generally speaking, yes. Most people go. What the hell else is there to do?” Miles says.
“That’s you,” Lyra says stopping outside a classroom door.
“Oh, thanks.” I adjust my backpack.
“Ok, see you in a bit!”
“Bye guys,” I call out as they walk away.
I take a seat in the back of the classroom. I always have. I’m not shy and I always participate but for some reason, I feel too seen in the front row. I pull out a notebook and a pen from my bag and wait for the students to sit. I glance around, recognizing a few of the party-goers from Saturday night. A few even wave at me. Mr. Dwyer gets up to close the door and Langdon comes flying through the door.
“I know. I’m late. Sorry.”
Dwyer glances around the room and points to the back, to the empty desk just behind me. Langdon follows his finger until his eyes land on me. The easy-going expression on his face twists to discomfort as he makes his way toward me.
“Hi,” I say quietly as he passes.
He barely lifts his hand in reply before he drops his bag on the floor and sits heavy into his seat. I urgently want to whip around and ask him what the hell his problem is but I stifle it and keep my eyes trained on the teacher. It’s torture, an hour and twenty minutes of torture.
I can hear every sigh. Feel his breath on the back of my neck. I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. Urging, willing me to take the bait, to turn and say something but I don’t. At one point, I swear he leans forward and is about to touch me.
It’s like that game kids used to play, where you told someone to close their eyes and then they hovered two fingers betweenyour eyes getting closer and closer until you could feel their fingers and opened your eyes only to find they weren’t touching you at all. I can feel his almost touch.
At lunch, I know no one and I’m surprised to see the cafeteria packed. All the other high schools I attended had open lunch to upper classmen. They could, and did, leave campus for lunch. But here, everyone seems to be accounted for.
I snag a table along the far back wall—alone. Hailie and crew saunter in and sit three tables away. Talk about awkward. Langdon strolls in late—apparently his M.O. at school, and joins them. I sit up a little straighter and jut my chin out. Finishing my slice of pizza, I wipe my mouth and glance around the cafeteria. Everyone’s chatting, huddled close at their various tables.
My eyes land on Langdon.
He’s laughing, head thrown back, neck exposed, mouth open. And for the second time, I wonder how weird it is that I want to touch, to lick that throat. His dimples make my belly ache with want. I want to cause them to appear. When he stops laughing his eyes lock on mine. My first instinct is to look away. Hell, it’s my only instinct. But I don’t. If he wants to be crazy awkward so be it. I hold his gaze. I can experience every single feeling I need to without having to overpower someone or gain something. It’s my superpower. Calm and collected.
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and keep staringunabashedly. I’ve held on so long that he’s beginning to blush. I smirk and lick my lips, practically tasting my minor and verypettyvictory and then…
“Hey, Delia, right?”
Before I snap my gaze from Langdon’s I notice his fists clench and his eyes cloud.
“Um, yeah. Sorry, who are you?” I ask the cute guy standing next to me.
