Page 15 of Heart of Thorns

I spin in an angry huff, ready to leave for the night, only to run right into a hard chest.

“Shit!” I stumble backward.

Two hands grip my arms, and the first thing that rushes through my veins is fear, only to be replaced by something else much more potent when I peer intohiseyes.

Of course he’s back.

“This is getting old,” I snap. “Stop stalking me.”

Thorne’s brow furrows, his immediate annoyance clear. I mimic his face just to spite him.

“I was here first,” I add, beating him to the punch.

I rip my arms out from his grip. Ihatethat the touch alone gave me butterflies. I don’t get the feeling twisted, though. I know it’s because I haven’t been with anyone for months.

Thorne sighs. He’s still too close, but his minty breath puts me under a spell. I stare into his eyes and memorize the warm, golden flecks scattered throughout so I can add them to his portrait later.

“This is the men’s locker room, jersey chaser. You shouldn’t even be in here.”

“Jersey chaser? Really?” I roll my eyes and brush past him. My lip bleeds with how hard I bite into the flesh to ignore the pain of my leg.

Thorne grips my bicep, stopping me from getting too far. “Listen. I’m not into girls like you, so stop following me around. It’ll just be easier on both of us that way.”

Slowly, I drag my attention from his strong grip on my arm to his stern face.

I laugh. “Excuse me?”

He scowls. “I don’t know what you think this is, but running into me again, after painting my face on the wall, isn’t a good look. It means you’re desperate and I’m just not into desperate girls.”

He finally drops my arm, like that’s going to help. He was the one keeping me close just a second ago.

“Tell me you’re an arrogant asshole without saying it.” A sarcastic laugh follows my insult.

Stalking him?

Get a fucking grip, Thorne.

I turn the corner and head for my things. I hope he follows me so he can see that I didn’t just paint him but that I painted his co-captain and the logo as well. He’ll see it soon enough and hopefully he’ll feel like a complete idiot and knock his ego down a few sizes.

Loud music blares from the weight room, rattling the lockers around me. My jealousy and irritation kick up a few notches the more I peer up at his face on the wall.

Part of my rage isn’t even directed toward him, but I simmer in it anyway.

I pull the ladder over to his portrait and grin.

If realizing that I’m not stalking him, nor that I’m obsessed with him, by learning that I was actually commissioned to painttheir locker room doesn’t put a dent into his confidence, then surelythiswill.

CHAPTER 6

THORNE

I collectstares when I walk in the locker room two days later.

That’s not really unusual—my teammates see me as a leader on the field and off of it. Even though I’m only a junior now, it doesn’t matter. My parents raised me to take charge in every situation. It takes guts to command a football team, to get them to trust and follow my orders. I recognize that, I accept it.

But these looks are weird.

Verging on… are they laughing at me?

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