Stone Cold Touch. Jennifer L. ArmentroutЧитать онлайн книгу.
but who knew?
“You think he’ll come?” Sam asked, fiddling with his fork.
I shrugged. “Probably not.”
“Well, if he does, you can’t ask him for an interview.” Stacey pointed her bottle of water at him. “Or act like a fan boy. It will scare him off and he’ll never come out and play with us again.”
Sam chuckled. “I won’t act like a fan boy.”
That was doubtful. The couple of times Sam had been around Zayne in the past, he’d gawked at him in open wonder. I couldn’t blame him. The Wardens didn’t mingle with humans a lot. Most didn’t even know that some of the very ordinary people they saw on the streets, in shops or restaurants were Wardens.
Stacey grinned. “Any idea of where—”
“I am?” came a deep voice that caused my heart to skip and my stomach to drop at the same time. “I’m right here.”
No way—no way in Hell was Roth at our table. A wicked sense of déjà vu smacked me upside the head. It was like the first time Roth had appeared in my life, and I couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to seek us out at lunch. And here we were again.
My lips thinned as he sat down beside me without an invite or response. Instead of having one of the orange plastic trays in his hand, he carried a McDonald’s bag. His mouth curled up at the corner as he pulled out a small white bag. “Fry?”
I took a deep breath. “No.”
“I’ll take one.” Sam reached across the table and snatched up a couple of the offered fries. “Glad you’re back. Mono sucks. I had it when I— Ow!” His eyes widened as he faced Stacey.
She gave him a pointed glare.
Not bothered at all by the exchange, Roth placed the bag of fries between us, near my phone, and then pulled out a cheeseburger. “Yeah, mono was Hell. Like being chained to a bed.”
I almost choked.
My cell phone vibrated and Zayne’s response popped up on the screen. Before I could grab it, Roth had it in his nimble fingers. “I’ll pick you up and we’ll head over there.” He arched a brow. “Together?”
Stringing together a chorus of mental curses, I yanked the cell out of his hands. “It’s rude to read someone’s messages.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” Stacey replied. “But I’m glad to hear that Zayne is joining us for dinner.”
Roth’s lip curled and a second passed. “Me, too.”
Unable to help myself, I snorted.
His eyes narrowed on me.
“Dinner?” Sam frowned. “I thought we were going straight after school? And I was thinking of the Italian place down the street. Not really dinner—”
“Sam,” Stacey sighed.
Roth grinned then. “Anyway, back to me. I’m all better and I am back.” He slid me a sly look that made me want to punch him instead of cry into my pillow like a baby. “I’m sure I was missed.” He took a big bite of the hamburger and grinned around the mouthful. “A lot.”
I didn’t know what happened that switched my emotions so fast. The hurt his rejection had left behind exploded into rage—like the head-spinning, spraying-green-vomit kind of rage. My brain clicked off. I wasn’t thinking as I reached over and plucked the hamburger right out of his hand. Twisting at the waist, I threw the hamburger on the floor behind Roth as hard as I could. The satisfactory splat it made as ketchup and mayo splattered like a gruesome burger massacre brought a wide smile to my face.
Stacey let out a burst of shocked laughter.
Roth glanced down at the hamburger and then his gaze slowly tracked back to mine. His eyes were wide. “But I really wanted that hamburger.”
“Too bad.” I swallowed a crazy sounding giggle. “Your fries are next if you don’t remove your ass from my presence.”
“Daaammmn,” Stacey murmured, her body shaking with now-silent laughter.
We were locked in an epic stare-down for a couple of moments and then his lips twitched as if he was trying not to laugh. And, well, that just caused my anger to ratchet up several degrees. Then he picked up his bag of fries. “I think we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
His jaw clenched. “Yes, we do.”
I shook my head.
Roth stared at me, and something...something about the way he looked at me shifted. Some of the hardness faded from his expression. “Layla.”
“Fine,” I replied, snatching up my bag as a really stupid idea formed. Maybe he wanted to apologize for being an ass. Unlikely. I turned to a greatly amused Stacey and Sam. “Text me the place we’re meeting after school.”
“Will do.” She paused. “Don’t hurt the fries. That would be sacrilegious.”
“No promises.” I started walking, not waiting on Roth, and I felt ridiculously proud of myself. The Layla from two months ago wouldn’t have dared to make a scene, but I was a different person these days.
I was beginning to see that now.
As I passed the bathrooms outside of the cafeteria, the boys’ door swung open and Gareth stumbled out, followed by a pack of giggling football players. Giggling. They reeked of pot smoke as they headed into the cafeteria.
“I’d kill for a bag of Cheetos right now,” said Gareth.
One of his buds laughed. “I’d throw a baby in front of a bus for cinnamon buns.”
Wow. That was some hard-core munchies. All of the guys with Gareth partied, but they weren’t stoners. Their behavior was definitely off. Could they be...infected, too?
Roth caught up with me. No book bag. Just him and his stupid fries. “I’m surprised. I’ll admit it. You surprised me.”
“Really?” I let out a harsh laugh, irritated that he was shocked. “Did you think after what you said to me that I’d be happy to see you? Seriously?”
He popped a fry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, as if he really had to think about it. “Yes. I know so.”
I stopped midstep at the end of the hallway, and stared at him. “You’re delusional.”
“Wouldn’t go that far.” In went another fry.
“You have an overinflated sense of self-worth.”
He grinned. “I am very valuable, actually. Being the Crown—”
I yanked the bag out of his hand, spun around and tossed the remaining fries in the garbage. Turning back to him, I smiled widely. “That’s what I think about your valuable Crown Prince shit.”
Roth heaved a huge sigh. “I’m a growing boy and need my sustenance. I’m going to starve now and it’ll be all your fault.”
“Whatever.” I folded my arms.
He stared at me and then tipped back his head and laughed. I shivered, unprepared for the sound. I’d forgotten how deep and rich his laughter was—how contagious. The laugh quickly faded, replaced by a surprisingly morose look. “Oh, shortie, you’re already making this hard.”
“Making what hard? And don’t call me shortie.”
He shook his head. “Come on, we need to talk for real. Where we won’t be interrupted.” He started toward the faded double doors and I knew where he was heading—our stairwell. The place where we students weren’t supposed to be, where no one ever went. It led to the old gymnasium and smelled like mold, but it had been our place before.