Page 12 of Heart of Thorns

I say goodbye and check the kitchen, then sigh and scope out the upstairs for Rhys.

Nothing, except closed bedroom doors. And while I’ve got no problem checking them, I’m not sure I want to see my best friend in that position. So I shoot him a text that says I’m out of here, then make a beeline for the exit.

Kind of like howshedid yesterday.

Why was she running? Did something happen?

I lick my lips and replay her walking away, both times. The first earlier yesterday morning, then away from the house. Both times, there was a slight hitch to her step.

It’s a mystery I’ll solve another time. Those girls with McDowell sure knew, though. So it’s gossip. Shit I try not to pay attention to…

Or I’m missing something obvious.

My thoughts revolve around the girl. The fact that I don’t know who she is is driving me nuts. Isn’t that sad?

Okay, maybe notsad. I could’ve probably found out her name if I pushed harder. Or asked the right people.

What I need to do is… forget about her. And since going home would paint me as the biggest loser on campus, I head to the football team locker room to grab my tennis shoes. Nothing some exercise can’t fix…

The walk in the cool night air wakes me up. I take deep breaths, and the crispness is invigorating.

I tap my ID at one of the doors to the stadium. The tiny light on the scanner turns green, and there’s aclickas the door unlocks.

This place has always been my safe haven. The dark halls are familiar, and I navigate the shadows easily. When I enter the locker room, I pause.

The lights are on—not necessarily unusual if an equipment manager was staying late for some reason, or the janitor was cleaning.

I don’t see either guy, though.

What Ismellis paint.

I scowl and follow my nose. If Crown Point football jerks snuck down here and spray-painted our lockers?—

Nope.

A girl stands on a ladder. Her brown hair is in a bun on top of her head, exposing her slender neck. She’s wearing a paint-spattered long-sleeved shirt and similarly distressed jeans.

And even from the back, I recognize her as the girl who keepssnappingat me.

I smile before I can stop myself.

She’s painting something, but I can’t make out what it is around the shape of her body. There is a lot of red, which isn’t too surprising. It’s the school’s primary color. Still…

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

I anticipate her startled movement. Her knee seems to give out, and she pitches off the ladder. But I’m already there, grabbing her waist. My fingers brush her bare skin, and my mind short-circuits.

Touch is not my thing.

But this…?

Why do I want more of it? I could slide my hands higher under her shirt, put my palms on her back. Her skin is cool, and I’m suddenly on fire.

She rights herself and jerks out of my hold. She stares at my shoulder, and a grimace of pain flashes across her lips. Then she snorts.

“I’m not sorry.”

I tilt my head. “About?”

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