Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Dane may have told me to stop staring, but even he has her in his sights, a low, wary look in his gaze.
She certainly draws the eye.
“Guess it doesn’t matter,” I say to Chance. “Nobody believes some scholarship girl.” I study my nails.
His reply is lost when Brooklyn appears next to Chance, batting her lashes up at him as she curls her fingers around his upper arm. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs, sending a scathing glance back at Ava. “You okay?”
He gives her a nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Brooklyn smiles at him and wanders off to slide in next to Jolena, and I watch them huddle together for a moment then approach Ava.
How will she handle it?
Will she stay at Camden when life gets tough?
Because it will.
It’s going to be fucking bad for her—
Chance snaps his fingers in my face, and I realize I’d forgotten about him. His eyes have followed mine to the girls several feet away. “You’re a dick. Stay away from her,” he finally says.
I laugh.
We all know he doesn’t mean Brooklyn.
“Both of you shut up. We’re all dicks. We’re Sharks,” Dane says just as the bell rings.
Sharks. I don’t know where the name came from, this “club” we’re in, but it’s been around for years. Our dad was one. Chance’s too. We stick together. Mostly it’s jocks from the various sports teams, born to the richest parents. We don’t have a ceremony with hooded cloaks and candles and hazing. Either you’re part of the inner circle or you’re not.
We straighten, pick up our backpacks, and head down the hall, cutting through the less fortunate, making our way to class.
Yet…
I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Ava’s back as she struggles with the combination on her lock. Her head is tilted down, the strange dark hair draped on either side, exposing the graceful arch of her neck taut with tension. The skin there is creamy and perfect.
She walked in here like she owns the place, but she doesn’t.
I do.
Still…
The very air around her seems lit with an aura of expectancy.
Emotion, something unnamed, rare and beautiful, brushes down my spine.
I tense.
Rein it in.
4
I’m so freaking late, practically running when I dash into my History of Film class. The teacher, Mrs. White, is an older lady with gray curly hair and small wire-rimmed glasses. She’s wearing a baggy dress with huge pockets on the sides and old sandals. Rather absentminded and a bit quirky, she has a rep as a fun teacher. She lifts her head when I come to a stop, my shoes squeaking on the slick tile. Everyone already has a seat, and it’s clear from the seating chart on the whiteboard that she doesn’t have my name down. Great. That’s what last-minute registration gets me. It’s going to be like this all day, me showing up and not being on the roll.
She stops talking, a surprised look on her face as she motions me forward. Everyone cranes their neck to get a look at me as I walk up to her desk, maneuvering through the small desk tables, each one seating two students. Dang, I’m going to have to actually sit next to someone. I send a prayer up that it’s not one of the Sharks, hoping for just a regular student like me. I pass by Piper, whose eyes are wide. I grimace when I see she’s been placed next to Dane. She sticks out her tongue at me and rolls her eyes so hard it actually looks painful, and I bite back a grin.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. White. It won’t happen again.”
“Snitch,” a male voice coughs out, and her gaze goes behind me, searching the class for the person who did it.
“That’s enough,” she says firmly then glances at me. “It’s fine, Ava. First day we give some leeway.” She messes with some papers on her podium, shuffling them around, her finger going down a list. “I don’t have you on my roll, and honestly this class is so popular with juniors and seniors, almost every seat is filled.”
“I registered late. Sorry.” I keep my spine straight. “Just put me in a chair in the back. I don’t even need a table.” Nervously, I tug at my skirt.
A deep male voice comes from my left. “I have an empty seat, Mrs. White. Liam dropped.”
Her head rises, and I follow her gaze, my gut churning, recognizing that voice.
My eyes find Knox Grayson’s. Again, there’s no expression on his face, just that superior, disdainful smile.
Mrs. White’s eyebrows hit the roof, and I guess she’s just as surprised as I am that one of the Sharks has offered to let me sit with him.
Games.
Fucking games.
I tear my eyes off Knox’s face.
“I’d prefer the seat in the back,” I tell Mrs. White quietly, leaning in, but unfortunately my words must carry because someone in the front giggles, and I hear the silky voice of Jolena.