CHAPTER 21 #2
“Hey,” I say, forcing a small smile her way. I like Brooklyn, but it’s hard to muster up much energy this morning. My head’s still a mess, and the last thing I need is more small talk.
“Huh, you go ahead, I’ll join you soon, Dakota,” Tripp says suddenly, not even waiting for my response as he falls in step with the two girls. His intentions are clear, and I can’t help but shake my head at how obvious he is.
As they walk away, Kris glances back over her shoulder and gives me another warm smile. It’s the kind of smile that would probably make a lot of guys weak, but I just nod back, trying not to encourage anything.
Then, without meaning to, my eyes drift down—just for a second—to her hips and the way her stride subtly shifts as she moves. I snap my gaze away immediately, scolding myself. Nope, not going there. Whatever she’s doing, intentional or not, I’m not falling for it.
The metal door of my locker creaks as I yank it open, throwing my stuff in.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the locker as I try, and fail, to shove last night out of my mind.
The way Hayes leaned in, the way his breath hitched, the pull I couldn’t deny—it’s burned into my brain.
I hate that I let him get that close. Hate that I almost let it happen.
“Morning, Dakota.”
I glance up and see Zach leaning against the locker next to mine, a lazy grin plastered across his face.
His long, dark blonde hair is slightly messy, like he rolled out of bed and didn’t bother to fix it—but somehow, it works for him, and his Crestview Prep tie is loosened like he couldn’t bother to follow the dress code.
“Hey,” I mutter, grabbing my textbook and the novel for English class and slamming the locker shut.
“You alright?” His voice is light, teasing, but there’s an undertone of curiosity that makes my chest tighten. “No offense, but you look like shit,”
“I’m fine,” I reply quickly, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Just tired.”
Zach doesn’t move, blocking my path with his arm. “You sure about that?”
I sigh, meeting his gaze. There’s something about the way he looks at me—intent, almost searching. “I said I’m fine,” I repeat, trying to sound firm.
“Okay. Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I care, Dakota,” Zach says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. It’s disarming, like he’s dropped the usual playful banter and actually means what he’s saying.
I glance at him, surprised, unsure how to respond. People don’t usually say things like that to me—not in a way that feels real, anyway. My defenses go up immediately, instinctively, because caring always comes with strings attached, and I’m not in the mood to untangle them.
Also, Zach and I barely know each other.
We’ve never hung out together outside of the hockey rink, but here he is, standing in front of me, telling me he cares.
It’s unexpected, sure, but not entirely unwelcome.
There’s something about Zach that makes it hard to stay annoyed for too long—maybe it’s his easy confidence, or the way he never seems to take anything too seriously.
“Thanks,” I say finally, offering him a small smile. It feels strange being this… cordial, but it doesn’t feel bad either.
“Fun weekend?” he asks, smoothly shifting the topic. There’s a lightness in his tone now, the kind of teasing that makes it clear he’s trying to keep things easy.
“Define fun,” I reply, leaning back against my locker, and meeting his gaze.
He smirks, leaning a little closer, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Fun, as in maybe breaking a few rules, getting a little wild. You know, something that involves more than just sitting at home brooding about life.”
I chuckle softly, surprising even myself. “Sounds more like your weekend than mine.”
“Maybe. But I bet you’d be good at it, Dakota.” His voice dips slightly, just enough to give the words an edge that feels a little too intentional. “You’ve got that quiet rebel, mysterious vibe. You’re just hiding it.”
“Am I?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you the expert on me?”
Zach shrugs, his smirk widening. “Call it a hunch. I’m pretty good at reading people.” He pauses, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my heart skip a beat. “Plus, I don’t think I’m wrong.”
“You’re awfully confident, aren’t you?” I say, shaking my head, though I can’t help the small grin that creeps onto my face.
“Always.” He grins back, stepping slightly closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “And if I’m wrong, maybe you could prove it. Let me in on what makes Dakota Miller tick.”
“Nice try,” I say, rolling my eyes but keeping my tone playful. “You’re not that charming.”
“Not yet,” he counters, his voice laced with amusement. “But I’ve been told I grow on people.”
“Like a fungus?” I quip, enjoying the banter more than I expected to.
“Ouch.” He places a hand over his chest in mock offense but laughs anyway. “I’ll take it. So… what do you say? You gonna make me work harder to figure you out?”
I smirk, shaking my head. “Guess you’ll have to find out the hard way, Zach.”
Zach leans closer, his arm braced casually against the locker beside me. He’s grinning, his dark green eyes gleaming with confidence.
For the first time since we started this conversation, I let my eyes take in Zach’s handsome features, really take them in.
His sharp jawline, the way his dark blonde hair falls just slightly into his green eyes, the faint freckles across his nose that soften his otherwise confident, almost cocky demeanor.
He’s undeniably good-looking, and he knows it.
The lazy grin on his face seems permanently fixed, like he’s in on a joke the rest of us haven’t figured out yet.
“You know, staring is usually my move,” Zach teases, his grin widening as he catches me looking. His voice is smooth, teasing, and laced with just enough arrogance to make me want to roll my eyes—and maybe smile, too.
I scoff, trying to mask the warmth creeping up my neck.
To say I’m taken off guard by Zach’s confidence and flirtations is an understatement.
I’m the one who’s always been the player, the one who knows exactly what to say to get someone blushing or stumbling over their words.
It’s weird being on the receiving end of it, and even weirder how good Zach is at it considering I’m older than him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning back against the lockers, trying to regain control of the moment.
“Oh, come on,” he says, his grin never wavering. “You were totally checking me out. Don’t worry, I get it. Hard to resist.”
“Right,” I deadpan, arching an eyebrow at him. “You caught me. It’s the overwhelming charm and… what is that? Bedhead chic?”
Zach laughs, the sound deep and genuine. “Hey, if it works, it works. And judging by the way you’re still standing here, I’d say it’s working.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head, but I can’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
“And you like it,” he fires back, leaning closer, just enough to make the space between us feel a little too small. His green eyes hold mine, and for a moment, the playful teasing shifts into something heavier, something that feels a little too real.
I should say something, push him away with another sarcastic remark, but I don’t. Instead, I find myself holding his gaze, the air between us charged with something I can’t quite put into words.
“Careful, Zach,” I finally say, my voice quieter, almost daring. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
He tilts his head, smirking. “I like danger. Makes life interesting.”
And just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by his easy grin and playful tone. I roll my eyes, but the truth is, I’m not sure who’s winning this game—or if I even want to stop playing.
“Tell me,” he says, his voice teasing but warm. “You ever thought about modeling? Those cheekbones could break the internet.”
I let out a low chuckle, pretending the comment doesn’t throw me off balance. “Modeling? Not really my thing. I’d probably die from all the selfies.”
Zach raises an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Not selfies. I’d be the photographer. Trust me, I’d find all your good angles.”
The flirtation is obvious now, and I know I should brush it off. But there’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me hesitate. Maybe it’s curiosity. Or maybe it’s the fact that I can feel someone watching us.
I glance to the side and catch him. Hayes.
He’s standing a few lockers down, his girlfriend Shay chatting animatedly beside him. Her hands move as she talks, her voice clear even over the hum of students in the hallway. But Hayes isn’t looking at her. His eyes are locked on me. On Zach.
I can practically see the storm brewing behind his dark eyes, the way his jaw tightens, and his grip on his backpack strap looks like it might snap it in two. He isn’t even pretending to listen to Shay anymore.
Good. Fucking asshole.
I shift closer to Zach, letting a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. “Careful, Zach. People might start thinking you’ve got a thing for me.”
Zach doesn’t flinch, his confidence unwavering. “And if I do?” he shoots back, his voice smooth, a challenge.
I pause just long enough to make Hayes wonder. Hayes, who’s still watching, pretending he isn’t. My chest tightens, but I force the grin to stay in place. “Maybe you should tell me,” I say, loud enough for Hayes to hear. “What would you do if you did have a thing for me?”
Zach laughs, stepping back just slightly, his smile playful. “Guess you’ll have to find out someday.”
The warning bell rings, cutting through the tension like a knife. Zach gives me one last lingering look, his voice dropping just for me. “See you in practice, Dakota.”
He walks off, and I turn to glance toward Hayes, just for a second, and catch the look on his face. It’s sharp, cold, but there’s something else there too—something he’s trying to hide.
He turns back to Shay, nodding like he’s actually paying attention now, but I know better. I’ve seen it. Felt it.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head toward AP English, the tension in my chest simmering. When I reach the classroom door, Hayes is there, catching up like he couldn’t resist. He stops short, blocking my path. His glare cuts right through me, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch.
“Problem, Griffin?” I ask, my tone calm, cool, like he hasn’t been watching me all morning.
He doesn’t answer. He just shoves past me into the classroom, his shoulder brushing mine as he goes. I follow, dropping my books onto the desk by the window with a loud thud, letting the sound fill the classroom.
The air is thick, charged, like a thunderstorm waiting to break. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him. Not yet. Let him stew. Let him sit there with whatever it is that’s burning him up inside.
Because whatever this is, it’s far from over.