Frosty acted as if he’d just been stabbed in the gut. “Cruel, Ali, so cruel. At least give me a hint. Pretty please with cherries on top of me.”
Charming. But I couldn’t forget that he’d cheated on Kat. Thinking fast, I said, “Okay, here’s a hint. A lot of people were there. There was some screaming, definitely some writhing. A looot of touching.” Doctors were very hands-on.
In the next instant, I was given a deeper glimpse of the criminal-in-the-making Frosty was. That mask of affability fell away, revealing hard, dark eyes and lips compressed with rage. “Did she touch anyone? Did anyone touch her?”
Dude. You left her for the entire summer. “It’s been nice talking to you and everything, but I really need to—”
We rounded another corner and I slammed into something solid, losing my concentration as I stumbled backward.
Bronx caught me, righted me and then let go of me as if I’d just given him third-degree burns.
“I’m sorry,” I began, focusing on the person I’d hit.
A girl, shorter than me by several inches. Silky dark hair curled to the middle of her back and framed a face God might have used to design his favorite angels. Her makeup was perfect. Her skin was slightly sunburned but still perfect. Her clothes were expensive and sexy, yet still elegant—and perfect. She wore a pink cashmere sweater and a flirty white skirt. She was the only diamond in a sea of glass.
I wasn’t into girls, but … wow. This one could probably turn anyone. Not even Kat and her catalog friends could compare.
“Is this your newest slice of tail?” she asked Frosty, all kinds of you’re beneath me in her tone. A tone clearly directed at me.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to turn me. I wasn’t into nasty.
“Back off, Mackenzie,” Frosty said.
Mackenzie. As in, Mackenzie Love. This was Cole Holland’s ex?
Of course she is, I thought next, wanting to laugh without a bit of humor. Beautiful boys dated beautiful girls. That’s how the world worked. And yes, by those rules, I was destined to be with a lanky loner with a tragic past. Wonderful.
“Cole wants you,” she snapped at the boys, “so your little missionary trip will have to wait.”
Cue my exit. I’d already said my goodbye, so I pushed my way past Mackenzie and entered—the cafeteria. So that’s where they’d been taking me. Time for lunch, then. No wonder my stomach had been growling. The smell of food paired with a thousand other appetites could have turned a mannequin into a savage.
Already lines snaked from every direction. I had no idea what was what, so I scanned the area until I spotted a familiar face in the far corner.
Kat waved me over. Behind me, Frosty yelled for my attention while Mackenzie called him an idiot. Ignoring them, I tromped forward. The deeper I entered the room, the more I noticed the grease that coated the air. I also caught hints of sugar, perfume and cologne, everything combining to form a cloying musk. Goodbye appetite.
“What were you doing with Frosty?” Kat asked the moment I plopped down beside her.
No rage. Good. “He and that other boy, Bronx, were waiting for me after class. Frosty asked me how the two of us had met.”
The roses drained from her cheeks. “What did you tell him?”
I bullet pointed my response, praying I’d gotten it right.
Relief wafted from her, her color returning. “Rock on! You did almost as awesome a job as I would have done.”
I so needed that kind of confidence. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t tell anyone where we really met, okay?” she said, her gaze pleading at me.
No problem there. But why didn’t she want anyone to know?
Before I could question her, the rest of her troop arrived. I greeted each with a half smile, since that’s all that I was currently capable of.
As the girls launched into details about everything they’d learned about people I didn’t know, I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck rise. I endured the sensation for several minutes before caving and twisting in my seat, searching for the source of my discomfort.
Cole and his gang sat a few tables away. Cole was … staring at me. Staring—such a mild word for the slitted gaze leveled on me, piercing me. If eyes could throw daggers, I’d have a few embedded in my chest. (Not that that’s where he was looking, mind you.)
I gathered my courage and maintained contact, waiting, expectant. Except, there was no vision this time. No mental unfolding of us kissing. This morning must have been a onetime thing. A fluke.
I was relieved about that. I wasn’t disappointed. Besides, things were better this way. Proof: the angelic Mackenzie was perched next to him, her arm draped around his shoulders, staking her claim, warning me away. She, too, glared at me as she whispered something in his ear. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know she’d just plotted my social death.
Whatever. Popularity wasn’t a concern for me.
What? I mouthed at her, and it was a legitimate question. What had I done to her? Nothing, that’s what.
She ran her tongue over her teeth just before growling something that sounded like, “Let me teach her,” to Cole. “Just a little lesson. Please.”
I didn’t hear his reply.
Kat patted my hand. “Are you listening to me? Because these nuggets I’m throwing out are golden! Namely, if you want to be in power, you have to knock the current queen off her pedestal. Kicking works, as does punching.”
“I wasn’t listening, I’m sorry,” I responded, my cheeks heating as I faced her. “So who’s the current queen?”
“The ex of the guy you were just stripping in your mind,” Reeve said. “To think, I had a front-row seat to the day the war ignited between Mackenzie Love and Ali … something.”
“Bell,” I said as Kat said, “Ali will totally win, but she’ll want me to have the throne, I’m positive.”
I shuddered at the thought of anyone thinking I was a person to emulate. “I don’t want the throne.”
Kat’s chin lifted in delight. “See?”
“Cole must think you give good eye, because he was making out with you right back. Still is,” Wren said, glancing between us. “Mackenzie will probably try to kill you before the week ends, but honestly? He’s not worth the hassle. He’ll only drag you down, ruin your life.”
Poppy twirled a strand of that beautiful red hair around her finger. “The last girl to receive that kind of look from him spent a year in a full body cast.”
“What girl?” I found myself asking.
“There was no girl,” Kat said with a frown. “I would have remembered something like that.”
Wren sighed with sadness. “She’s right. There wasn’t a girl. We were just testing you to see your reaction. You failed.” She turned to Kat. “Have you told her about your association with Frosty? How he nearly got you kicked out of school?”
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. My gaze shot up, and I came face-to-face with the dark-haired boy from Butthole’s class. The one who’d made everyone laugh, drawing attention away from me.
My table went quiet.
“Don’t