Page 21 of Sapphire Spring

In the few seconds he was forced to balance it in onearm and close the cargo door with the other, he was convinced he’d get knockedfrom behind by one of his brawny tormentors. But the next thing he knew, he washeaded up the front walk toward Laguna Mesa’s drab stucco main building, headsturning to study his handiwork—the sprawling ancient Persian city in its glorydays, beforeit had been savagely torched by Alexander theGreat. No one was muttering the wordfagunder their breath, and mostof the looks seemed impressed. Maybe those were good signs.

Then he reached the main courtyard. It was packed withstudents sitting in their morning cliques on the concrete benches and tables.If Ms. Guidroz’s class hadn’t been first period, he might never have done themodel to begin with. No way would he have been able to protect it for even halfa school day.

The door to safety was in sight. He could see Ms.Guidroz inside, clearing the wipe-off board with long sweeps of her arm thatbarely jostled her always-perfectly-in-place pixie cut. If he could just makeit another few yards…

Then he heard them. Chadwick and Tim were in the lead,hair tousled and sweat matted, faces flushed from recent exertion, wearingtheir team windbreakers, barreling down the nearest set of steps, moving withthe speed that had made them varsity athletes by their sophomore year.

“Praaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnncer!”Chadwick Brody always yelled the nickname with a terrifying blend of fury anddelight.

Naser froze, his hands gripping the edges of his modelso tightly his knuckles and wrists started to burn.

He thought about running the rest of the way, but thatwould also risk sending the model to the concrete.

Then there was another high-pitched yowl. This one didn’tform a word.

At the base of the steps, Chadwick and Tim froze andturned just in time to see MasonWorthercrash to theconcrete. The impact looked bone rattling, like someone had picked him up anddropped him from a great height. Mason’s breath left him in a strained wheeze.Bystanders winced and brought hands to their faces.

MasonWorther, starquarterback, had wiped out—hard.

A part of Naser told him he should take a moment toenjoy this, the idea that the universe had knocked Mason on his ass before hecould screw up Naser’s day—again.

Then he realized what the universe had also done. Theprospect of their star quarterback being badly injured had so terrifiedChadwick and Tim they’d forgotten about Naser altogether and rushed to Mason’sside.

Naser started moving.

A few seconds later, he’d pushed the door to Ms. Guidroz’sclassroom shut with his back, and his favorite teacher was taking the modelfrom his hands with an indulgent smile that told him she knew what had justtranspired outside but didn’t want to embarrass him by bringing it up.

“Nas!”

Not Prancer this time, but his actual name.

Suddenly he was enfolded in MasonWorther’sbig, grown-up arms as the man’s wine breath doused him from a great height.

It had all happened so fast—the realization that not onlywas Mason at the party, but he was also Fareena’s date. Then he’d frozen uplike he had in Laguna Mesa’s courtyard that day as Fareena had pulled Masonaround the end of the pool toward him by one hand.

And now MasonWorther’sarms werearound him.

And there could be only one explanation.

MasonWortherwas very drunk.

Which didn’t change the fact that he was still obnoxiouslyhot.

Ten years after graduation, the guy looked like aTrueBlood-era Alexander Skarsgård, his tailored suit hugging a muscular bodyhe’d never stopped working on. And yeah, chanceswerehe’d stayed a cornsilk blond thanks to a good colorist, but he’d grown into hisheight, and his blue eyes blazed in the light of the surrounding tiki torches.That neck Naser had fantasized about gripping with both hands as Mason droveinto him with rageful abandon was even thicker and more muscular now. And the manstared at him with the same wide-eyed openness he’d used on him back in school.Looks like these had always been bait, Naser wassure—designedto draw him in so Mason and his friends could treat him like a rag dolldeserving of ridicule.

“How youdoing, buddy?” Masonboomed.

“Well,” Fareena said, “you two know each other, it seems.”

“Damn right. Laguna Mesa Panthers. Leave ’emon the field in pieces, right,Nas?”

One arm wrapped around Naser’s shoulders, Mason pulled backand raised his other fist. MasonWorther, the guywho’d torn his backpack off him more times than he could count, was expectingNaser to greet him with a fist bump.

He returned thefistbump weakly.“Or in lockers.”

Mason cackled.

Fareena looked from one to the other as if they’d both grownadditional heads. “You played sports in high school,Nas?”

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