Page 73 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

“Get in, love.”

Once we’re on our way to the school, I glance over at him. “Is Amelie going to kill me for walking in with you?”

His grip tightens on the wheel. “Are you jealous? You threw in my face that I was cheating on her with you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He lifts one shoulder. “Either you’re jealous or you’re not.”

I groan. “I just don’t want to be involved in your mess.”

He turns into the school parking lot, killing the engine in a spot right up front. It seems to have been left open just for him, because the rest of the parking lot is completely full. He twists toward me, meeting my gaze. “You want me to break up with her.”

“You haven’t?”

“Not yet.” He grins. “I had to get your thoughts on the matter.”

I shake my head. “She’s going to kill me for walking in with you. For even talking to you. You-you’ve been avoiding her for days! Why?”

He taps my temple with one finger. “I do love a good mind fuck.”

I climb out of the car, shaking my head. Amelie and I used to be friends, but now we’re the furthest thing from it. Hell, I’d go so far as to claim we’re enemies—if only because of Caleb Asher.

He stops in front of me. The football field is around the corner, just out of sight. Yet the smell of a food truck, the sound of hundreds of people, drifts toward us. “You want me to break up with her.”

No question.

I could probably say no—to ignore the jealous anger—and leave it at that.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you going to?”

“Let’s find out.”

18

“Caleb Asher, what the fuck?!”

I crane my head back as Amelie storms toward us. He’s had his arm around my shoulder for the last twenty minutes—about the time I started shivering in my coat.

We haven’t looked at each other in twenty minutes, either.

His fingers tighten on my shoulder, like he can sense I want to escape.

We survived until halftime. Granted, we showed up halfway into the first quarter, and the game’s been exciting enough to keep the crowd entertained. Meaning: they haven’t really noticed us yet. My plan of slipping in undetected has, so far, worked.

That’s about to end.

Caleb pivots us toward Amelie. I try to step back, and he gives me a stern look.

“What the hell, Caleb?” she yells, still yards away.

People turn toward us, and murmurs break out.

“Got a problem, Amelie?” he drawls.

He’s the freaking perfect picture of calm. His face betrays nothing, even if I can sense his excitement. He likes causing chaos.

Misery.