Page 80 of The Broken Note

“He calledagain?” Sol smirks.

“Bex is needier than all of my exes combined,” Zane mumbles.

Finn scowls. “And Christmas isn’t my thing.”

“Ugh.” Zane flops back in his chair, his long, tattooed arms dangling almost to the floor. “You’re not going to accept, are you? You always turn into a drill sergeant before a gig.”

Dutch shakes his head. “I said no.”

Zane sighs in relief.

“Bex won’t stop asking,” Finn says in a deep voice. There was a rumor around school that Finn once got a girl to walk a mile in the freezing cold just by talking on the phone with her. I don’t think that rumor was exaggerated. There’s a chocolate quality to his tone that’s perfect for late night radio… or casting spells.

Sol props an arm on the back of Zane’s chair. “Why aren’t you taking the gig? It would piss off your dad.”

“We’ve got other plans,” Dutch says, glancing at me.

I squirm and glance away. The cafeteria food looks tasty, but I can’t bring myself to eat.

“Here.” Sol slides his tray over to me. There’s a sandwich on it. “Have this.”

“Thanks.” I give him a grateful smile. Eating a sandwich during lunch instead of this five-star hotel fare is way more comfortable for me.

Dutch glares at our exchange, but I don’t care. He doesn’t like me being friendly with Sol? So what? Sol and I are close and I’m my own freaking person.

“Look, there’s Paris,” Finn says, nodding across the cafeteria.

The boys all stop and watch, so I do too.

Paris is shuffling into the lunch room, her head lowered.

Zane laughs. “What did you say to her?”

Dutch doesn’t answer, but the look he gives the cheerleading captain is pure hellfire. Paris stops right in front of The Kings’ table and uses the tray to cover her stomach like armor. Her eyes still haven’t left the floor.

“Did you take care of it?” Dutch growls.

“The girl who took Zane’s picture is off the squad. If anyone on the team talks to her, they’re off too.”

Zane pops a grape from the stem and eats it like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Finn is reading a book—how he’s focusing on the words in this situation? I have no idea.

Sol looks bored with the whole scene already.

“I-is that all?” Paris trembles.

“One more thing.”

To my surprise, Dutch grabs my wrist and yanks my arm up. My sandwich flops to the bench, lettuce and mayo spattering.

I whip around to slam him with an angry glare, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Paris with that scary face of his.

The cheerleader flinches in response.

“A feral cat made the mistake of putting her claws on my girl.”

“Your girl?” I hiss.

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