Chapter 12
MADDISON
I used to loathe the first day of school.
Like I mentioned before, I never had a ton of friends, so walking into the school hallways all by myself was the equivalent of getting shoved into a locker, something that happened to me in middle school.
No, I take that back. That day wasn’t that awful because I got to avoid all the school drama.
Right now, I wish lockers lined the shiny, overly polished hallway because then I’d shove myself into one.
I have to remind myself multiple times that I chose to attend this school.
Guys keep smirking at me, for what, who the hell knows? And don’t even get me started on the girls throwing me dirty looks. Not all of them, of course, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin.
Thankfully, I’m a pro at the whole I-give-zero-craps attitude and manage to hold my head up high to my first class of the day.
I try to keep a casual vibe for my outfit, sporting baggy jeans and a gray top that reaches just above my belly button.
I have a few tattoos; one on my arm, another on my side, and the final one is on my leg, but none of them are on display.
My hair is in a ponytail, and I rocked my scuffed boots.
Again, it’s evident I’m from northside, but what else am I supposed to do?
Hide who I am? No, thanks. And I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
“Hey, new girl,” a guy calls out as I stroll into class, adjusting my backpack. He has blond hair and the body of a football player. He’s also donning a grin as he leans over and pats the seat beside him. “I saved you a seat.”
“Hard pass,” I reply then veer toward an empty seat that’s as far away from him as possible and plop down into it.
“Well, that was rude.” Humor rings in his tone. “I saved you a seat, and you blow me off? Do you even know who I am?” His voice is growing closer, which means he’s walking toward me.
I ignore him, but I’m on guard, my fingers curled into fist. If I have to hit him, I will.
“Porter, leave her alone,” another voice joins the conversation, deep and male and recognizable.
I sigh. River. What is this guy’s deal with me?
“Why does it matter to you?” the blond guy replies.
“That’s none of your damn business,” River tells him in a glacial tone. “Now go sit the hell down.”
This causes me to twist around in my seat. Up until this point, I thought River was a quiet, brooding sort of guy. He has an intense side to him, too, that he likes to display.
Today, he’s wearing gray pants and a black short-sleeved shirt. Like every other time I’ve seen him, his dark hair is dangling in his eyes. He’s also standing right behind me and glaring at the blond dude, who has his hands raised in front of him and backs away.
River continues to glower until Blondie sits his ass back down. Then he turns to me with his lips parted.
“Don’t ask me if I’m okay,” I speak first. “I can handle assholes. I’ve been doing it my entire life.” I twist back around in the chair.
I’m sitting in the middle row. The seats are staggered, like in a stadium, only this room is much smaller. The ceiling is high arched with beams, and bookshelves line the walls. Fitting since it’s American Literature.
“I wasn’t going to ask you if you were okay about Porter.” River hesitates before sitting down in the chair beside me. “I was going to check and make sure your ankle is okay.”
“It’s fine. Your sister said you texted and asked if I was okay.” I pause then add, “Thanks for checking on me.”
Amusement flashes across his face.
“What?” I wonder if I have pieces of bagel stuck in my teeth or something.
“It’s nothing.” But his amusement suggests otherwise. He attempts to scrub his hand over his mouth in an attempt to hide it, but I see it, there and glittering.
I narrow my eyes at him as I swing my bag off my shoulder and drop it beside my feet. “Clearly, it is, or you wouldn’t be smiling like that.”
He lowers his hand from his mouth and rests his arms on the table in front of us. “Fine, it’s just that you said thanks.”
“And …?”
He shrugs. “And it was almost like you were getting your teeth pulled.”
Okay, it’s frightening how on-point he is. Still … “I say sorry on occasion.”
“Okay.”
“I do,” I insist defensively.
“And I said okay.” He’s on the verge of smiling again.
“You know, when I first met you, back in that place we’re both pretending we weren’t at, I got the impression that you were the quiet, brooding type, but I misread you.
” I lean over to dig a pen and notebook out of my bag.
By the time I sit up, his smile has faded.
I heave a dramatic sigh. “What did I say now?”
“Nothing.” He falls silent. I’ve struck a nerve, yet I’m not sure if it was the subtle mention of us being in jail or my remark about him being quiet and brooding. And I shouldn’t care. I’ve never cared about a guy before. But I told Lily I’d try.
He remains silent as he unzips his leather bag and pulls out a laptop.
I realize everyone else has one out, as well. Why I didn’t think of that is beyond me. I have one back in my dorm. It’s old and worn, but at least it’s functional.
“Crap, I forgot my computer,” I mumble then move to stand up.
He snags a hold of the hem of my shirt, his fingers grazing my flesh.
If I thought I felt butterflies when he touched my arm after we crashed into each other, I was wrong. Because holy fluttering monarchs, does my stomach erupt with flutters to the point where I startle.
“Sorry.” He quickly jerks back.
“You’re fine.” I think.
I don’t know …
What the hell was that?
“Sorry,” he replies again, in a much more even tone. “I was just going to say that if you’re late to this class, Professor Madella will make a big deal about it in front of everyone.”
Grimacing, I lower back down into the chair. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“I assumed so.”
“Why?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You just seem like the type who doesn’t like to draw attention, even though you do.” He stares down at the keyboard of his laptop.
“Yeah, I know. I reek of northside, don’t I?” I sink back into the chair with a heavy sigh.
“No, that’s not it.” He avoids eye contact with me as he boots up his laptop.
“What is it, then?” I question then add dryly, “My charming personality?”
He rubs his lips together, on the verge of smiling again. “You say that like you’re joking, but it’s kind of true.”
I put the end of my pen to my lip. “Only kind of, huh?”
His smile breaks through, but he hastily wipes it away as a guy with brown hair steps up in front of us and clears his throat. He’s cute with full lips and the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. He also seems vaguely familiar.
“I hate to break up this little moment, but I need the keys to the car. I left my bag in the trunk the other day.” He sneaks a curious glance in my direction.
It takes me a moment to connect where I’ve seen him—he was the guy who waved at me while I was running.
River pats his pockets then fishes out a set of keys. “Just make sure to lock it up.” All of his humor is gone. He’s not rude or anything like that; merely guarded.
The guy offers him a tense smile then looks at me. “You’re the new girl, right?”
“The one and only,” I tell him. “I prefer to be called Maddy, though, not new girl.”
“I’ll make a mental note of that.” He starts down the aisle. “I’m Noah, but I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as he exits the classroom.
“That’s your stepbrother,” I state as the name clicks.
“Yep,” he mutters while staring down at his hands.
I sense some tension there. “You two don’t get along?”
“We’re just not friends.” He slants back in his chair, crosses his arms, and stares straight ahead. And there’s the broody, quiet guy whom I first saw in jail.
I decide to let the conversation drop, but I’m curious what’s behind the tension. My best bet is the fact that Noah’s mom had an affair with River, Finn, and Lily’s dad, which led to the divorce and remarriage.
As we sink into silence, I note a girl at the bottom of the aisle staring at me. She has long, blonde hair in braids, her makeup is minimal but flawless, and her fitted green sweater and wide, pin-striped pants look fashionable. Her gaze slides between me and River, and her brows furrow.
“Um, so I hate to break up your little solo brooding moment, but who is that girl staring at us?” I give a subtle nod in her direction.
He tracks the nod, and his frown deepens as he hastily looks away. “That’s Isla.”
“Oh, the betrothed.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Shit, sorry. That was probably insensitive.”
His gaze shifts to me. “Lily told you?”
I tap my pen against the desk. “Only because I was asking her all these questions about why everyone was staring at me during orientation. I thought it was because I was from northside—and honestly, I’m still convinced that’s part of it—but then she told me about the”—I gesture at the front of the classroom where Isla is—“well, you know.” I feel awful, considering the moroseness that’s consumed his features.
“Sorry for bringing it up. I like to do this thing sometimes where I put my foot in my mouth. It’s a real friend magnet, let me tell you. ”
His eyes scroll over me. “You’re not that bad.”
“Only somewhat bad,” I quip, to which he responds with an attempt at stifling a smile.
I fiddle with the cap on my pen, sliding it off and on.
“So, I have a subject change I’m going to offer right now to slide on right by this.
” I set the pen down to stop my fidgeting.
I’m not even positive why I’m doing it. Okay, that’s a lie.
I know exactly why—because I’m about to ask for a favor.
He absentmindedly rotates a ring on his finger. “Okay, what is it?”