Page 76 of Beautiful Defiance

“Good point. That’s why I brought my own.”

I bite down on my smile. Rue’s friend is awesome.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and opens one of his palms. He’s holding two quarters.

“What do you see?”

“Two quarters.”

“Good. That’s good. Ready?”

“For what?”

“The magic.”

I stifle my laughter with my hand. He is giddy with excitement. “Um, sure?”

“Watch closely.” He moves the quarters from one hand to the other. First, slowly, then he picks up speed. How he doesn’t drop the coins is beyond me. I watch, my eyes narrowed, trying to keep up with his movements. Finally, he stops with his hands balled.

He nods at the tops of his hands. “Which hand is holding the quarters?”

I tap his right. He turns his hand and opens his palm. Empty. He shows me his other hand. Also empty. I look at the ground in case he dropped the coins. The lights mounted on the sides of the shed shine on dirt.

Okay, then.

“Where’d they go?”

“Hmm, let me take a gander.”

A gander? Who talks like this? Laughing, I shake my head.

“Hold still.” He steps into my personal space, and leaning into me, he slides his hand across my shoulder and under my hair.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I lift my knee then stop. Rue wouldn’t be friends with a guy who takes advantage of a girl by showing her his “magic trick.”

“Taking a gander for the coins.”

“Down my collar?”

“In your fine-ass hair,” he says near my ear.

His fingers are firmly trenched in my hair when a large shadow falls on us. In my peripheral vision, Seven is stomping toward us. Trace and Malice fall in line behind him. He is smoking hot in a black shirt and low-hung jeans. I have the strong urge to run over, get him behind a tree, and stick my hands under his shirt and down his pants. He would be solid and warm.

But why is Seven here instead of at home studying? I twist around and spot Ginger in the crowd. Was him studying an excuse to come to a party he didn’t think I’d be at? Is he here looking for an easy hookup?

“Seven, what are you doing here?”

“I should ask the same of you, Leigh.”

“Ah, so you’re Leigh.”

Seven’s attention swivels from me to Shay. “What the fuck does that mean? And let the fuck go of her hair, douchebag.”

“Or else what?”

“I’ll fuck up your face, that’s what.”

“Leigh, does this guy mean something to you?” Shay tugs me back against him with his hand on my hip. The way he says the words, his hold on me . . . It speaks of this thing between us.

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