Page 41 of Forget Me Twice

Then I remember that the two main sports teams always seem to avoid each other during breaks.

I wonder if this is some form of basketballvsfootball rivalry? I’ve landed myself on the Kraken’s shit-list, thus making me Titan catnip? I mentally file that away on myTo Investigate Furtherlist.

I then take a second to run my eyes over him from head to toe. Really take stock of him now that he’s more than just a polaroid in a file. He’s well over six feet and built like a football player in his prime. He looks good in his academic uniform. Muscles on muscles.

My hussy libido is already wondering if he’s bigeverywhere.

Internally, my eyes roll. Promises of good dickings aside, I have to remember that he might actually be useful as a source of information, and I still need to increase my numbers.

“Sure. I could eat,” I shrug nonchalantly, and adjust my bag over my shoulder. “You’re buying though,” I add pointedly with a raised brow, just to test the waters.

Leo chuckles, flashing me that goofy grin again. He sweeps an arm out in a mock bow, like he’s ushering along royalty. “Yes, of course. My treat. Let’s go, princess.”

I give him a sharp bark of laughter. I didnotexpect that level of sass from the poster boy for Wholesomeness himself. This shy puppy might surprise me after all.

As I begin walking with him towards the front doors, I catch a flash of untamed blond curls from the corner of my eye.

The flame of Lake’s Zippo dances as he flicks it open and closed with sharp, ominous snaps. I follow the movement for a moment before glancing up at its owner. Normally so wild and brimming with mischief, his gaze today is instead dangerous and simmering with fury. His jaw is clenched tight.

He must still be pissed off about our last interaction.

But it’s not me he’s glaring at, it’s the footballer that’s escorting me out of the school.

Fucking great. I guess I was right about the team rivalry. What headache have I just stepped into there?

* * *

Of course a goldenboy like Leo drives a Ford pickup. In fact, if I was pressed to picture the guyasa truck, I would wager it would be this exact pristine, sky-blue older model F-150.

He sits tall and straight as he drives us to the diner, throwing me occasional, sidelong glances. I almost want to take my hands and run my fingers through his neatly styled hair just to mess him up a little.

He’s just soclean cut.

I text both Rhett and Knox my plans for the evening, sosomeoneknows where The Librarian is likely to be, and then we’re pulling into the parking lot. I didn’t think I’d find any sort of enjoyment in this city aside from its gothic architecture, but this diner is definitely growing on me.

Leo, the gentleman that he is, opens my passenger side door, and then holds the front glass door for me as well. I grant him a little mocking smile, but he only answers it with another of his wide,aw shucksgrins.

Lord have mercy, this boy.

I am going to have so much fun mixing chocolate syrup into this bland, vanilla milkshake. I really want to just darken up all that pure-white, All-American civilian goodness.

He ushers me over to a rear corner booth that I am pleased to note gives me a decent view of the front door, the exits and the rest of the patrons. Without any of my Crew with me, I need to be able to have my own back.

We both drape our blazers over the table near the window. Leo rolls up the cuffs of his shirt, giving me a nice view of his tanned, chorded forearms. Yum.

“Alright, spill it,” I say as we sit, pretending to browse one of the greasy, laminated menus. I have it memorized from my first visit here—the weekend we settled down in Rox City.

“Spill it?” He’s desperately trying for nonchalance but the tops of his ears are a bright red.

“I’m practically radioactive, Lassie. So why are we here?” I close the menu and place it down, clasping my hands together on the tabletop.

The vinyl seat groans as he shifts uncomfortably. “What the Prefects did in the dining hall was pretty nasty. Thought you could use a more friendly welcome to the Academy,” he shrugs.

“Mhm. And?”

His eyes dart to the side. Mine narrow at the painfully obvious guilty tell. It was just a bit of cold soup. After blowing off the initial steam with Rhett, I’m not losing sleep over it.

“Aaaand?” I drawl. “I’m not stupid, Leon.”

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