Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Someone trips me up and my books fall to the floor.
I don’t need to hear the snickering to know who it is. It’s a group of four girls who’ve taken a special dislike to me.
My roommate, Elanor, is one of them.
She doesn’t say anything to me, only glares with her big dark eyes when I enter our shared room. So I spend most of my time either with my girls in the common room, at the library or out on the grounds up until the last second before curfew.
“So riddle me this,” one of the girls says with a snicker and a wiggle of her blonde eyebrows. “How much of a reject do you have to be that your own guardian sends you to the reform school she’s the principal at?”
The second girl, who’s also a blonde, joins in. “Yeah. What’d you do, Salem?”
Right.
Very funny.
A fuck-ton of snickering happens at this.
I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’m not averse to making scenes – not me – but I don’t want to fight right now.
God forbid Miller sees us in the hallway – her office is only a few doors down – and gives me more things to do.
My back has been killing me all week from cleaning her stupid apartment. I don’t think it can take more abuse.
I’m not going to lie though. Scrubbing her toilet and bathtub is at least keeping me busy enough that I don’t think about all the crazy, wretched things I’ve done. Namely on the night when we snuck out to the bar, which was four days ago.
And him.
Yeah, it is keeping me busy enough that I don’t think about him either.
Well, who am I kidding? Of course I think about him.
I think about him all the time and maybe that’s why when I hear his voice coming up from behind me, I think it’s magic.
I think I conjured him up.
“Can I help you ladies with anything?” he says, and I freeze.
Ladies.
He said ladies.
All the girls have smiles on their faces because of that polite little word. Even I’m blushing and not slightly.
The first blonde girl who called me a reject begins, “No, we’re just –”
“Are you going to pick that up?” Arrow cuts her off.
I fist my hands at his tone. I don’t have to turn around and look at him to know that his jaw is ticking. Or that there must be a dark glint in his blue eyes.
I know all that. I can see it in my head. I can feel it all too.
He’s like a wave of heat at my spine.
The second girl goes, “Well, these aren’t our books, Coach.”
The third girl in the group, who’s a brunette like my roommate Elanor, says, “They’re hers. She dropped them.”
And I jump to say, still keeping my back to Coach Carlisle, “Yes. I’m just gonna –”
“No, you won’t.”
His curtly worded response directed at me makes all of us jump. The girls have their eyes wide and stuck on him and I’m fisting my skirt now, needing something to worry and crush between my fingers as his heat rolls down my spine in the form of sweat.
“You,” he says and the girl who called me a reject stiffens. “You’re the one who tripped her up, correct?”
No one says a word even though students all around us who were going about their business have come to a stop to witness what’s going on. They’re probably thinking that I’m at it again, the principal’s ward who made a scene at the soccer field.
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll just get them,” I say, ducking my head and making for the books again.
“Salem.”
He says my name as a warning and I stop. Again, I don’t have to look at him to know the state of his features, all tightened and bunched up, sharp as a blade.
“I’m giving you the courtesy of doing the right thing of your own volition,” he says to the girls in a stern voice.
“But if you can’t, I can very easily order you to bend down and pick up the books.
I can very easily order you to stay down for the rest of the day too.
” I feel him shifting on his feet. “Personally, I’d like to abuse my power a little bit.
I’m stuck here anyway, right? Might as well have a little fun with it. So it’s really up to you.”
Everyone heard that and now they all have their mouths open in shock.
But not me.
I’m not shocked at what he said and how rudely he’s behaving. I’m not shocked that he’s being this new, cut-open Arrow.
Unfortunately, I like it.
Unfortunately, it excites me.
This excitement that I’m feeling has nothing on the excitement that I used to feel at the sight of the old Arrow, the one who would be all restrained and unruffled.
It’s unreal, this excitement. It’s the stuff they should bottle and sell on empty streets to bleak, miserable souls. So they can inject it in their veins and be forever high.
When the girl who called me a reject almost drops to the ground to do his bidding, I can’t stop the tremble in my belly and my legs.
I can’t stop the pounding of my heart. She hands me the books with a glare and I hug them to my chest.
“Good choice.” Then to everyone else, “Show’s over. You can resume your own lives now.”
Afraid, they all jump to do his bidding too and I hear him mutter, “Fucking schoolgirls.”
I spin around then.
And see him for the first time since he arrived on the scene.
He has his usual clothes on, his gym t-shirt and sweats, all gray, all freaking sexy.
The barely-there sleeves of his shirt putting his biceps on display, tanned and strong, covered with dark hair, and I curse myself that I didn’t explore the texture of his skin, the contours of his arms back when I had the chance.
The arms he uses to catch me when I fall.
I didn’t touch them enough that one night when I was his friend.
Stupid Salem.
Because there’s no way he’d want to be my friend anymore. I don’t want to be his friend anymore.
What an awful idea that turned out to be.
I always knew I was dangerous. I always knew my love would drive me to do desperate, awful things.
Greedy things. Hungry things.
Things like attacking him with my mouth.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say in a hesitant voice.
He takes his time responding though.
He fills the silence with his heavy eyes, which he uses to survey me.
And he does it in such an intimate way that I’m surprised the world hasn’t caught on yet.
That he’s more than my coach.
That he’s my Arrow.
I hug the books even tighter to my chest and shift on my feet.
“Done what?” he finally asks, lifting his eyes.
“Saved me like that.”
“And why’s that?”
“B-because they’ll think you’re giving me special treatment. Since I lived with you and all.”
The tight set of his jaw says that he doesn’t like that. “Has someone said something to you about that?”
I shake my head. “That’s not the point.”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened to you, is it?” he concludes in a low tone, the silver chain around his neck glinting dangerously as he folds his arms across his chest.
I try not to look at the grooves of his sides that he’s exposed by that movement. “It doesn’t matter. It’s –”
“Next time someone gives you trouble, you come to me,” he orders.
“What?”
“I will take care of it.”
His low-spoken command sends a rush of warmth through my body. A rush of goosebumps and thundering heartbeats.
He’ll take care of me like he did just now.
But the thing is, I don’t deserve his help.
I tried to make advances on him when I promised myself that I wouldn’t. When I know he doesn’t need those things since he’s still coming out of the breakup.
Besides I’m not a rat.
So I tamp down all my shivers, take a deep breath and say, “You don’t have to. I can handle it myself.”
I stop when he unfolds his arms, and completely ignoring what I just said, states in the most professional voice ever, “And I’d like to see you in my office, please. After you’re done with your dinner.”
I look to the side, confused. “What?”
“I have something that I’d like to discuss with you.”
“But –”
“And I’ve decided that you’re done avoiding me now.” Then he does the most coach-ly thing ever. He taps at his big leather-strapped wristwatch with his finger and tips his chin to get me moving. “See you in an hour.”
With that, he walks away, leaving me all shocked.
Apparently, he can still shock me because I didn’t think he would take matters into his own hands.
About the fact that I’ve been ignoring him.
I have actually.
I knew he’d noticed too. I mean, it’s a little hard not to notice when every time I see him in the hallway, I duck my head or turn around and walk away, blushing like crazy for trying to kiss him.
But I didn’t know he would summon me to his office for avoiding him.
It’s a good thing though.
I’ve been acting like a coward. I need to apologize for what I did.
I made him apologize, didn’t I? It’s only fair.
Besides, I don’t even think I’ll get to talk to him much after this. Because remember part two of my grand plan? The one that was going to permanently put an end to his pain.
I put that plan into motion.
Well, it’s more like Leah’s plan, but there’s a dinner on Friday and that dinner is going to change everything.
That dinner is going to make him happy and, well, everything will go back to how it was before. Arrow and Sarah, together, and me, the little sister, all alone, spending senior year at St. Mary’s, waiting for an opportunity to run away.
Which is how it should be.
So yeah, I’m going to apologize because I won’t get a chance after this.
With that determination, I go through my shower and dinner quickly and when I’m done, I walk to his office.
I have a new pair of cargo pants on, freshly laundered and ironed, and I’ve even tied up my hair with the mustard-colored ribbon in a neat ponytail.
All clean and tidy.
Just the way he likes.
I knock on the door and his voice travels through it to hit me in the gut and steal my breath. “Come in.”
Swallowing, I turn the knob and open the door.
He’s sitting at his desk. There’s a book spread open on the table, a pen holder, a couple of Post-its, a stack of notebooks. Soccer balls are neatly arranged by the beige wall, along with a bookcase that has books on it arranged just so.
Everything has its place and order.
Even him.