Page 43 of Burning Embers

I tense, my muscles locking tight, as I straighten in the chair. I don’t even have to look to know he’s still watching me.

“Why are you staring at me?” I finally explode, swiveling in the uncomfortable plastic chair to face him completely.

And oh my god.

What the fuck is it with the guys at this school? Is being sexy as sin a requirement for enrolling here?

The man looks as if he stepped off the pages of aPeoples’“Top 100 Sexiest Men Alive” article.

His dark hair is slightly spiked, but in a way that feels natural, not as if he spent time styling it. The color is slightly lighter than the dusting of stubble on his strong jaw. He wears a fitted, light-blue dress shirt that clings to his muscular figure and emphasizes his biceps and forearms. His shirt is tucked into a pair of khakis that look just as fucking good—if not better. I’m pretty sure ninety percent of the female population would cut off their right arm to be reincarnated as his pants. The firm line of his lips is juxtaposed by the twinkle in his eyes that suggests that he’s about to get into trouble. Or maybe he’s already in trouble.

Or maybe he simplyistrouble.

The stranger folds his arms over his chest and surveys me.

When he doesn’t immediately speak, I find myself filling the silence, my irritation at his blatant perusal thrumming throughme. “What are you even doing here? Do you have a meeting too?”

Yes, Izzy. Because you’re the office police. My god. Can you be any more of a weirdo?

His lips twitch in the makings of a smile. “Is that why you’re here? Do you have a meeting? Or are you in trouble?” He tsks his tongue in a way that sounds almost mocking. “I haven’t seen you around, which means you must be our new student. In trouble on your first day? Rough.”

I roll my eyes at him. Of course the sexy guy is a jerk.

Aren’t they all?

“I’m not in trouble,” I snap, feeling unnaturally defensive. “I have some forms I need to fill out before I can start. I got an email telling me to come here before classes.” As an afterthought, I add, “Can you stop staring at me like some sort of creep?”

His smirk broadens, transforming into what may be considered a smile if it wasn’t all sharp edges and serrated blades, as he pushes away from the wall. Without a word, he stalks into the office and begins to rummage beneath the vice principal's desk.

My heart picks up speed as he returns, two soda cans in his hands. He tosses one to me with a sly wink, and I just barely catch it before it can whack me in the face.

I gape at him in stunned disbelief, but he simply shrugs a shoulder.

“What?” He feigns innocence. “I heard that the vice principal keeps a bunch of goodies in his office.”

A part of me wants to throw the can back at his stupidly handsome face. But a tiny voice in my head screams, “That’s assault, dipshit.” I settle for shoving the soda in my backpack, hoping that no one will see it. The last thing I need is to getcaught stealing from the vice principal on my first day of school—even if I wasn’t the one who actually stole anything.

“What’s your name?” the stranger asks, watching me with barely veiled amusement.

He resumes his position against the wall, his arms once again crossed over his chest as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

“Why?” I quip. “So you can get me in trouble?”

“My name’s Christian. Christian Montgomery. There. Now it’s mutually assured destruction.” He opens his own can of pop and takes a sip, staring at me over the rim. “Are you going to drink yours?” Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he adds, “It might get a little fizzy rolling around in your backpack all day.”

“Isabella,” I reply after a moment, ignoring his comment about the soda.

“Like that chick fromTwilight?”

I wrinkle my nose. “God, no. And don’t even think about calling me Bella.”

I once again glance at the secretary’s desk, wondering where she is and when she’ll return. I just want to sign whatever paperwork she has for me and get started on my day. And maybe a part of me wants to meet up with Ethan and Emery as well…

Nope. Bad brain.

No thoughts of Ethan or Emery allowed.

Desperate to distract myself, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Why are you here? Are you in trouble?”

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