Page 8 of Never Your Girl

“Well, let me know. You don’t mind if Ava joins us, do you?”

“Not at all. She’s cool. I like her.”

Willow’s eyes widen with mock astonishment. “Wow. Look at you branching out and broadening your social horizons. I’m so proud of you.”

A smile teases my lips. “If I’m not careful, I might just get sucked into your little girl gang.”

“The horror.” She gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth. “What would your high school emo self say?”

I bump her shoulder. “She’d probably write a very angsty poem about it.”

My stomach does an odd little flip as Varner Hall comes into view. After two years of avoidance, it feels like everything with Bridger Sanderson is coming to a head.

“All right, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” With a wave, Willow takes off toward the tutoring lab for a shift. She gets a dozen or so yards away when Maverick throws his arm around her shoulders before tugging her close.

For just a second, I pause and watch them.

A smile blooms across Willow’s face as her boyfriend brushes his lips over hers.

As reluctant as I was to like him, I can’t help but admit that he’s been good for her. He’s aware of her childhood leukemia diagnosis and doesn’t treat her like she’s made of glass that will crack under the slightest bit of pressure. Even her family has backed off.

Well, sort of.

Becks, her mother, would never willingly take a step in retreat.

“Coveting your bestie’s boyfriend, huh?” The dark voice hits me like a physical touch. “That’s low. Even for you.”

I jump, spinning to find Bridger close enough that I can count the silver flecks in his gray eyes. His cologne wraps around me, woodsy and familiar enough to make my heart stutter. I force myself not to take a giant step in retreat, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Hardly.” I meet his gaze, ignoring how my skin prickles with awareness.

His lips curve into an infuriating smirk. “You sure about that?”

Instead of responding, I roll my eyes and stride away, hoping to put a little bit of distance between us.

No such luck. He falls into step beside me, his long legs easily matching my pace. “FYI, I’m onto you, Tate.”

“Oh?” I keep my eyes forward, focusing on Varner Hall. “What exactly are you onto? Wait, let me guess. You dug out your old Scooby-Doo Mystery Kit and you’re hot on the trail of Mr. Carswell, the bank president?”

“Haha. You’re hilarious.”

I flash him my sweetest smile. “Thanks. I try.”

He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “I know what you’ve been up to, and when I get the proof, I’m going to make your life a living hell.”

“Promises, promises.” I suppress a shiver that has nothing to do with fear. “Good luck with that.”

“Just know I’m watching you,” he says as we climb the steps to Varner.

“Careful, Sanderson. Someone might think you care.”

A group of hockey fans descends on him, giving me the chance to escape. I slip into class, claiming my usual spot by the window. Bridger strolls in a few minutes later. He ignores the girl trying to wave him down as his gaze locks on me like a heat-seeking missile.

“Did you seriously think you were going to get away from me that easily?” He looms over my desk.

“That was the hope.”

He turns to the guy next to me. “Mind if I sit here?”

---