Page 5 of Liar

His attention doesn’t stray from me. Not even when Savannah comes in behind him, fragile and quiet.

Zeke watches the exchange, humming with intrigue while he leans back and folds his arms over his chest. Thorne’s gaze darts to him. I sag in my chair, having escaped his scope, until he cuts back to me, his jaw so tense it sharpens the air with lethal warning.

My head lowers on instinct, but my mind scrambles for a foothold. Thorne had a thousand chances to contact me in the weeks following our last meetup on the cliff. He could’ve crossed the road between our houses any time or used one of the tunnels between our homes that slither through our walls like snakes. If he wanted my attention, he could’ve gotten it, yet he chose cold-blooded silence after melting my insides with a consuming, brutal takedown of a kiss.

I lift my eyes to his. Shaking. Determined.

I won’t obey you. I’m not afraid of you.

His grow small as he studies my features, sensing the shift. His gaze dips to my lips, rests there, then captures my stare again.

I stop breathing.

Savannah comes to his side, touching his elbow. She’s watchful, noticing the tension between Thorne and me faster than Zeke’s unconcealed musings.

She steps forward, captivating the class as she moves through my aisle, her caramel eyes assessing me with every step.

“Hi,” she says as she reaches my desk. Her voice is light and sweet, like spun sugar floating through the air. “I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

Nodding, I straighten in my seat. My throat’s so tight that I don’t trust my voice.

“You must be Ember,” she says.

The entire class is swept up in her voice. A pencil could drop, and no one would look toward it.

“It’s … nice to meet you.” My tone is scratched and as unsure. What else could I say? How are you after being held hostage for a year? Am I in your seat?

My eyes flare at the realization. I could totally be in her seat. I took her spot in this school, after all.

“Sav.” Thorne’s rough tone draws my head up. Savannah turns.

“Over here.” He points at the empty seat in the middle.

Thorne’s talking to her, but his penetrating stare remains on me. I can’t read behind the white blizzard of his eyes. Does he not want me to talk to her? Am I supposed to pretend she hasn’t shaken up the fragile foundation I’d built for myself at Winthorpe?

Probably, and he might be right. My trauma is insignificant compared to hers.

This time, I don’t squirm under his scope. I meet his eyes, tilt my head, and wait for his next intimidation tactic.

The air is practically electric between us, sizzling with spite and flame. Neither of us decides to fucking blink.

Professor Ainsley steps into the classroom. His gaze sweeps over the desks, then lands on Thorne and Savannah, the only other people standing.

“Ah, I see I don’t have to make introductions.” He drops his binder on the teacher’s desk, revealing a plaid button-down shirt too tight at the neck and ill-fitting slacks. “Miss Merricourt, Mr. Briar, do take a seat.”

Savannah quietly leaves my side, her lashes lowering as she says to me, “I look forward to getting to know you.”

A promise or a warning? How much does she know about Thorne and me? Looking at him wouldn’t give me any answers since his upper lip curled the instant Professor Ainsley wandered in and he broke our stare-off.

The only thing worse than Thorne confessing our entire relationship to Savannah would be if he—

—sat down at the open space at my desk.

My spine nearly fractures from how stiff I’m holding it. My muscles ache in protest.

Thorne’s scent comes with him, chlorine, salt, and something distinctly him. A musk created solely for my nose, tantalizing and acting as a reminder of all those times his taste and smell consumed me.

Reminding myself to breathe, I huff out air through my traitorous nostrils.

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