Page 106 of Wicked Dreams

“Are you going to stop him? He seems ready to murder someone.”

“Not this time,” Caleb answers.

Eli hasn’t moved either.

I wince when Theo grabs a girl from the sidelines, her camera falling to the ground. He gets in her face, his face a smooth mask of fury. And then he shoves her back toward her friends and stalks away.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” Eli calls.

Caleb chuckles.

Liam just groans.

“How could that have gone worse?” I whisper. I watch the girl get lifted to her feet.

He tilts his head toward me. “Sometimes we’re driven to do crazy things.”

Speaking of crazy things…

I meet his gaze. “What happens next?”

“With what?”

“Us.”

He smirks. “You’re admitting to an us, then?”

I shift. “Seems inevitable.”

“We are.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth. He kisses my knuckles, then sets it back on my lap. But he doesn’t let go.

Butterflies erupt in my belly. It’s easy to let Caleb hold my hand and pretend we’re two nice people who happen to be dating.

We are the furthest thing fromnice.

“Relax,” he murmurs.

“This is very public. And you just dumped your girlfriend. Loudly.”

He raises one shoulder, his eyes on the game. “You told me to.”

“I told you to break up with Amelie?” I did not. I mean, I kind of did. Not in a direct way.

Not like this.

Jesus, she keeps craning around from her spot in the crowd of cheerleaders, squinting at us. It’s one thing for Caleb to crucify her in front of the entire school—hell, Lion’s Head’s students, too—but now she’s glaring daggers atme.

“You did. Now just relax, and then we’ll go to the party after we win.” He tosses me a quick smile.

I’m not used to his smiling. And I’m not used to his competitiveness showing. It wasn’t this strong when I knew him before… he doesn’t play football, and yet it’s awe. Emery-Rose Elite as a whole. If one wins, we all do.

I cast a helpless glance back at Riley. Something happens on the field, because I’m jerked to my feet. Everyone around us cheers.

Caleb picks me up and swings me in a circle. “You’re good luck. We just fucking won.”

A joyous riot of Emery-Rose students flood the field, surrounding the team, with Caleb and me at the center. This type of celebration—so verymale—throws me off for a moment. They pound each other’s backs, fist-bumping. No one touches me, though. It’s like I’ve been encased in fire, and no one wants to get too close.

Caleb motions for me to get on his back, crouching. Suddenly, I’m a head above everyone else, my arms wrapped around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. Over the sea of black and gold, I can see the purple-and-black Lion’s Head students. They’re slower to filter out.

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