Page 36 of The Broken Note

I expect him to eat, but he pushes a spoonful of soup at me instead.

My eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

“Your hands are injured.”

“It’s just a scratch. It’s not like it’s broken.”

“I saw you flinch.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“When you move your arm back and forth, it rubs against the side of your shirt and irritates the skin. I saw it, Cadey.”

What is he? A CSI?

Dutch stubbornly nudges the spoon at me. I squirm, noticing the cell phones that are being whipped out to spy on us. From what Paris said in the bathroom, Dutch and I are still hot topics on Jinx’s app. Him acting like this won’t help the rumors that we’re together.

“Open your mouth, Cadence,” he barks.

I open.

Dutch feeds me the soup and though I’d intended on spitting it back out just to teach him a lesson, I don’t.

An explosion of flavor dances on my tongue.

I cup my mouth and swallow. “This soup is amazing. Oh my go—how is this so delicious?”

Dutch doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even blink.

Awkwardly, I grab my bottle of orange juice. “What?”

“When are you going to trust me?” he whispers thoughtfully.

“Trust you?” My back muscles coil.

He drops the spoon and it plops back into the soup. “Did you really get mauled by a cat today?”

“Of course I did. Why would I lie about that?” My eyes slide away from his.

He leans back and stares at me with his cool dark gaze. He’s simply terrifying. Without effort. Without any strain on his part.

I flick my attention to the soup to ease the tension in the air.

“You’re mine. I’ve made that clear. If someone hurts you, they hurt me.”

“I belong to myself. Not you. I can handle my own business.”

He gives me a long, studying look. The picture of royalty with his Disney prince blonde hair, amber eyes and inked body. Paris was right, even if she is annoying. Dutch Cross definitely doesn’t look like he belongs with someone like me and I can’t take him seriously. I can’t let myself believe any of this is real.

“Cadence—”

“Who the hell are you?” I hiss.

He watches me, expression going blank again.

I dig my fingers into the tray. “You spent weeks making me miserable. You did everything in your power to drive me out of school. You ruined my teacher’s life. You pushed me and goaded me and made fun of me. And now you want me to trust you? Do you think I’mstupid?” The word snaps with the vehemence of a rubber band flying from a slingshot. “You can’t decide one day you’re going to hate me and randomly switch to liking me. That’s not how this works.”

“You think I wanted this?” He hisses. “You think I woke up one day and thought I want some girl to have my heart by the freaking throat?”

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