Page 45 of Wicked Dreams

I nearly jump out of my skin. But I guess that explains Riley’s weird expression.

Jacq suddenly grabs their stuff and moves down to the far end of the table, which we can totally blame on Caleb’s negative energy.

Caleb drops down beside me, like this isn’t unusual or weird. I survived all morning. Even our first class together, nothing. The back of my neck didn’t burn with his usual glare.

But now? He drapes his arm over my shoulders and winks at Riley.

“Earth to Margo.” He taps my temple. “Anyone home?”

I grimace and try to inch away from him. I should know by now that it’s useless.

“We almost made it a full day,” I say to Riley, sighing heavily.

“Aw, you noticed.” Caleb smirks. “I’m flattered. Have you met Savannah?”

I pause and meet his gaze. He seems… Well, not angry, which is a change in and of itself. But maybe mischievous?

My chest tightens, and my stomach does a somersault. “You’re not serious.”

“I’mdeadserious. Excuse us, Appleton.”

He lifts me out of my seat like I weigh nothing. I dig my heels in, but it’s even worse than at his house. Here, my feet just slide across the polished tile, until I finally give in and stumble forward.

He guides me to the table where Savannah reigns over the other cheerleaders. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t sit with the hockey guys. The team groups together at one long table, and there are no other girls there.

Wonder if that’s an unspoken rule?

“Savannah, sweetie.” Caleb drawsallof the eyes. Every last one. “You were out last week, you must’ve missed the news: our old friend Margo has returned.”

Like she didn’t see me for the first part of the week?

Savannah faces us, her body stiff. Her expression is carefully blank, but flickering under the surface is intense rage. And judging by the way Caleb leans into my side, he sees it, too.

He’s not stupid. He knows what he’s doing.

“Savannah,” Caleb prompts.

“Welcome back,” Savannah answers in a voice that—well, it’s downright frozen. And insincere.

If I ever wanted to stab someone with a pencil more than Caleb, it’d be her.

“I’m sure you’d love to catch up with Margo, right?” he continues.

I shake my head, but his fingers dig into my arm. A silent warning that kills my voice.

“Of course.” She feigns a frown and eyes the packed table. “Oh, but there’s no room at our table. Maybe next time, Margo, okay?”

Caleb sighs, and I have to remind myself that this is an act. However sincere he appears—he’slying. He seems to have perfected the art of war while I’ve been gone.

He sighs again and says, “Ah, you’re right. It’s okay. Margo can come sit with me.” He jerks his chin toward the boys-only hockey table.

Savannah pales.

“No.” She glances around the table. “Stephanie, move over.”

“There’s no?—”

“Move.”

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