“Fine. I’ll take a chocolate croissant if you can get one.”
“Oh, I’ll get one,” he assures me.
“I have no doubt. And some fruit, if there is any.”
“Sure. And what do you want to drink?”
I grin. “Surprise me.”
His eyes darken, and for a second, something flashes in them. But before I can figure it out, it’s gone, and the lightness is back. And so is the teasing as he says, “Believe me, I intend to.”
Then he grabs both my shoulders and turns me around. “I’m sitting over there.” He points toward the end of the center table. “There’re a few extra seats. Why don’t you head that way, and I’ll be over as soon as I get our plates?”
“Sounds good.” I do as he says, stopping just long enough to let Macy know where we’ll be sitting.
Flint watches me the whole time, but I figure that’s because he doesn’t trust me to actually sit down. What he doesn’t realize is that when the alternative is standing around awkwardly waiting for him while everyone looks on, it takes all my self-control not to run to a seat. Preferably in the back corner of the room.
Especially when I see Mekhi and Luca heading my way, dark frowns on their usually relaxed faces. I think about waiting for them, but I don’t really want to hear what they have to say. And I don’t want to explain to them why Macy and I decided it would be okay to come to the dining hall—at least not in front of most of the student body.
So instead of waiting for them to catch up, I do what any girl who doesn’t want to deal with a boy would do—I take off toward another boy’s territory. In this case, the table where Flint and his friends are sitting.
It may not be the bravest or brightest move, but it’s definitely the path of least resistance. I’m not ashamed to admit that I could do with a little less resistance and a little more easy in my life. Especially today.
I’m pretty sure it would have worked, too—the Order and Flint dislike each other that much—except for the terrible wrenching sound that splits the air directly above me just as I get close to Flint’s part of the table.
42
Good Thing
Pancakes Aren’t on
Today’s Menu
It’s a horrific noise, and I glance up, trying to figure out what could possibly be making it, just in time to see the biggest crystal chandelier in the place pull free of the plate holding it to the ceiling. I have about half a second to think, Oh shit, and then someone is there, slamming their body into mine.
The hit knocks the breath out of me—or maybe it’s the subsequent slam, face-first, into the nearest wall that does it. Either way, it’s a struggle to get my breath back, especially since there’s a long, lean male body pressed against my back, his arms caging me in on either side.
I realize that at the same time there’s a gigantic crash. For a second, all I can hear is the tinkle of glass as it shatters and flies, hitting everything in its path. The boy behind me grunts and wraps himself more tightly around me, and that’s when I know. I may not be able to draw a full breath yet, but there’s enough oxygen in my body for my brain to function again. And my newly functioning brain registers one thing above all else—that the guy currently wrapped around me is Jaxon.
“Are you okay?” he demands as soon as the glass stops flying.
I don’t answer him—I can’t. My lungs still aren’t working at full capacity yet and neither is my voice.
I try to nod, but that’s obviously not good enough for him because he’s whirling me around, his hands skimming over my body as he orders, “Answer me, Grace! Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” I finally manage to gasp out. But that’s when I get my first good look at him and realize that while I may be okay, he very definitely isn’t. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off. “Does anything hurt?”
“I’m not the one who’s injured.” I run a light finger over the right side of his face, pausing at the bloody parts. “What are you even doing here? I thought it would take a couple more hours for you to get back.”
His dark eyes smolder at me—and not in a good way. “Obviously.”
I don’t know what to say to that, and he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to listen anyway, so I reach into my purse （score one for vanity） and pull out the tiny first aid kit I keep inside it. It’s a habit I picked up after my parents died in the car accident—ridiculous, since it would have taken more than a first aid kit to save them, with their injuries. Still, Heather’s mom suggested it when I was freaking out right after they died, and for whatever reason, it calmed me down. Today’s the first day it’s actually going to come in handy, though.