“No,” I say, shaking my head, my gaze stuck on Crew’s. “We’re still partners.”
“God, Skov is such a bitch,” Natalie mutters under her breath as she slides out of the seat and heads over to the empty desk next to Sam.
I settle into the chair Natalie just vacated, tamping down the wave of triumph trying to consume me. I drop my backpack on the floor and zip it open, pulling out my notebook and pencil, settling them both on the desk.
“Skov is sticking to her guns, huh?” Crew’s deep voice washes over me, leaving me warm.
I send him a secret smile, unable to help myself. “Guess so.”
School is pretty monotonous for the rest of the week. Not much is happening and we’re all preparing for finals and projects as winter break draws closer. I try my best to ignore Fig and never allow myself to be alone with him in class. I even show up late, though my seat is always empty and waiting for me. No one else wants to sit in the front and center seat.
Maggie has been distant toward me, spending her time chasing after Franklin, I guess, and never hanging out with me anymore.
It’s fine. Whatever.
I observe the way people talk to me at school, specifically everyone in my grade, and realize I exist on the fringe of every friend group among the seniors. No one truly pulls me in or seeks me out.
It’s depressing. Before Crew pointed it out, I was completely oblivious, and sometimes I think I want to go back to that state of mind. When I believed everyone liked me and they were all my friends. When I thought I was a positive influence who made a difference.
Oh, the younger girls still want to spend time with me, and I hang out with them during lunch because I have no one else, but they look to me to make themselves feel better for the choices they’ve made so far in life. The majority of them will succumb eventually. They’ll get a boyfriend. They’ll fall in love. They’ll have sex.
And then they’ll leave me behind.
Psychology class and the project is the only thing that fills me with faint apprehension. Having to face down a smirking Crew every afternoon is starting to take a toll on me, but I try my best to smile through it all. To keep our conversation as impersonal as possible, which is tough since we’re both supposed to be digging under each other’s skin, trying to figure the other person out.
I’ve already given up. I cannot figure him out, no matter how I try. He’s mean yet levels me with that fiery gaze, as if he’s envisioning me naked or whatever. He makes me uncomfortable.
And not always in a bad way either.
I wasn’t about to back down from Natalie, though. I know she’s still angry that Crew is my partner and not hers. Too bad. She’s just going to have to deal with it.
He’s mine.
When it’s finally Friday, I feel as if I can breathe a sigh of relief. I’m going to see my parents this weekend, and I can’t wait. Not because I’m dying to see them—I was with them only a week ago for Thanksgiving—but my father and I are going to an art exhibit Saturday that features an up-and-coming artist whose work I strongly admire. Plus, I’m eager to get away from campus. I’m tired of being here already, and I still have two weeks until winter break.
And my birthday—that big bash I planned on hosting for my supposed friends? I don’t know why I’m even bothering.
I’m going to cancel it. Who would come anyway? It’s not like there will be drugs or alcohol. I’d be surprised if anyone showed.
After that depressing thought, I shove it from my mind before I allow it to completely crush me.
I’m walking down the hall, heading for my last class of the day when I hear someone from behind me clear their throat.
“Wren, hey.”
I turn to find Larsen Von Weller standing in front of me, a smile curling his lips.
He’s a senior like me. Quiet. Smart. Athletic but not a complete jerk like some of the jocks that go to this stupid school. Attractive with brown hair and brown eyes. A lean yet muscular build.
“Hi,” I say with a faint smile, wondering why he’s talking to me.
We were closer our freshman and sophomore years, when we had more classes together, and saw each other throughout the day. We sort of went on separate paths junior year because of our class choices, and now we never really speak.
“How are you?” he asks.
“I’m good.” I nod, glancing around the hall, watching people walk past us, their gazes curious when they see who I’m talking to. “How are you?”
“I can’t complain.” His smile is easy. “I heard a rumor.”