Page 69 of Burning Embers

“Wanna test me, little bird?” He takes a single step forward like a predator advancing on its prey, and my heart does a strange jig in my chest at his use of my old nickname.

I can’t remember the last time he referred to me as a little bird. Years ago, maybe.

I also can’t forget the reason for that nickname in the first place.

I’m about to retort when a large body moves to my side, dwarfing me in shadow.

Startled, I turn to see our vice principal glaring at Grayson with an unreadable expression marring his handsome, aristocratic face. His dark hair is a little more mussed than I remember seeing it earlier today, but he still radiates powerand confidence. His hard, streamlined muscles are just barely contained beneath his dress clothes.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Martin?” His tone is succulent and curt, though there’s an undercurrent of steel that hardens each word he says. He doesn’t pull his gaze away from Grayson, whose scowl has deepened to impossible levels.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Mr. Montgomery’s lips firm into an unrelenting line, his eyes hard. “You don’t appear to be a student here.”

“You know every one of your students?” Grayson rasps, and takes another swig from my water bottle.

Mr. Montgomery’s voice is dry when he responds. “I make it a habit to know my troubled students. And you, young man, reek of trouble.”

I don’t know what part I find funnier—the fact that Mr. Montgomery referred to Grayson as “young man” despite being only a year or two older than him, or the fact that he recognized Grayson as trouble.

Because heistrouble. Even I can admit that.

Grayson’s eyes flare in irritation before they slide to me.

“Izzy, let’s go,” he growls out, already extending a hand for me to take.

“Ms. Martin, stay,” Mr. Montgomery clips. He straightens the lapels of his jacket, the movement decidedly indolent and almost lazy, as if he hasn’t a care in the world.

“I’m beginning to feel like a damn dog,” I murmur to myself.

Montgomery’s lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, but Grayson looks as if he’s seconds away from slicing the vice principal’s neck with one of the daggers that I know he keeps on his person.

“Not a dog. Just a student who doesn’t know how to fill out paperwork properly.” Montgomery flashes me a smile to show he’s only teasing before turning to face Grayson once more.The smile immediately slips from his face with enviable grace. “You may go now. Only students and guardians of students are allowed to be on campus during school hours.”

Grayson folds his arms over his chest and smirks. “School hours ended a few minutes ago. Or do you not know your own school’s schedule?”

Honestly, I’m not even surprised that Grayson knows that information. He probably researched it so he knew what time to arrive and confront me.

Wait.

HowdidGrayson even know what school I’m attending? I certainly didn’t tell him. Not that there are a lot of options…

“Actually, young man?—”

I snort, but Montgomery ignores me.

“—school hours technically continue for another three hours until all extracurriculars have left the premises.”

I don’t know if the smile Montgomery offers Grayson is patronizing, smug, or pitying. I also don’t know if Montgomery is telling the truth about that—no doubt, it’s utter bullshit—but then again, who am I to argue?

Montgomery turns away from Grayson as if he’s an insignificant speck of dust, and my best friend’s eyes ice over. His hands curl into fists by his sides, even as he attempts to keep his expression impassive and disinterested.

“Ms. Martin, if you may…” Montgomery gestures back towards the front of school, where I know the administrative offices are. “I can call your foster dad if you need a ride back home.”

“Nah. I can just wait for Jake to finish football practice.”

Grayson’s brows furrow when I mention “Jake,” and a strange flash of what I would almost describe as jealousy shoots across his face. The butterflies in my stomach suddenly seem to be tripping on acid.

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