Page 11 of Heart of Thorns
I can’t stop thinkingabout that girl. The snarky one. She just—she stared at me withvitriol, and it was a rush I wasn’t expecting. I was going to apologize for earlier, on the sidewalk, but then she practically bit my head off.
Is there something wrong with me that I found it refreshing? In a school full of people who would love to bend over backward for me and my last name, she clearly has no desire to do so.
I want her to do that again.
But she left before I could so much as call out to her. I don’t know her name or anything about her. So, in a rather interesting turn of events, I’ve kept my eye out for her.
Parties are not my priority, but the other night… well, how could I let the opportunity of another sparring match with her pass me by?
Tonight is the same story, different day.
Another party, but the same people.
Exceptsheisn’t here. And I don’t really know why I thought she would be. I spent all day getting distracted, fucking up in class, nearly falling on my face in practice. I’m only here because I need a distraction…
Okay, no, that’s a lie.
If she was at that party last night, then maybe she’ll be at this one.
Right?
I’m not crazy. I’m curious—there’s a difference.
Someone calls my name, and I head deeper inside. Rhys has yet to show himself, even though he promised he was here. There are some of my other teammates scattered around the house, along with an even mix of hockey players and lacrosse assholes.
The person trying to get my attention waves, and I change course slightly for the couches in the living room.
“Hey.” I look down at my cornerback, a guy whose height and weight belie how fast he is. Opposing receivers never stand a chance against Stephen McDowell.
He’s got two girls on him, one under each arm, and doesn’t seem bothered by their seeming competition. In fact, I’d guess he was encouraging it.
“Was wondering if you were gonna show.” He frees an arm and slaps my hand. “Good to see you, Thorne.”
The girls perk up at my name, and I bite back my sigh.
“You see Rhys?” I ask.
I flex my other hand. The one that touchedherskin the other night.
Stephen chuckles. “Either the kitchen or in a room upstairs.”
Great.
“And that, uh, that girl who scowls a lot? Have you seen her?” That really makes it clear I havenothingelse to go on. Besides the fact that her hair is pretty and seems soft, and her lips are plump even when she’s flattening them in annoyance, and her eyes are…
Well, maybe I shouldn’t think about her eyes.
One of the girls wrinkles her nose. “The burned-out hockey player? She was at the party last night?”
I pause. “What?”
The other one giggles and pushes at her. “Don’t.”
“Sheliterallyburned?—”
McDowell covers her mouth, shaking his head. “We haven’t seen her around, dude.”
But she’s a hockey player? Or was. Burned, though? What the fuck does that mean?