Page 5 of We Are the Stars

Carsen.Where have I seen that unique spelling before?

“You spell your name in a strange way,” I tell him.

He quirks a brow at me, his eyes drifting to the basket sitting next to me. Giving me a taunting grin, he says, “This coming from a girl who has pizza on her underwear? I suppose we’re even in the strange department then.”

With that, he spins and hustles back behind the counter, conveying our order to the cook in a clipped tone.

I can feel Jase seething from across the booth. Realistically, I should be as upset as he is over the comment Window Boy—Carsen—made, because it was completely inappropriate to comment on my underwear, but I’m not.

I lean back in the booth, grinning after him.

I’m impressed.

“Get that look off your face.”

“What look?”

“That dreamylook. You cannot like him. You cannot be friends with him. You can’t eventhinkabout being friends with him.” Jase’s words are harsh and I must say, I don’t like them one bit.

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I study my tablemate. His brows are scrunched together in a serious fashion and his jaw is set. He’s visibly upset by Carsen, but I haven’t the faintest idea why.

“What happened between you two?” I question Jase.

He reels back. “What? What are you even talking about?”

“You and Scowly. What happened? Why do you hate him? Something had to have happened for you to be acting this way.”

“What way?”

“Like a jerk.”

Jase runs a hand over his face and releases a pent-up breath like I’m exhausting him. “I still can’t believe you don’t know. You had to have at least heard his name before. It was all over the news and in the papers for months.”

“Carsen? That’s a fairly common name.”

“Wheatley. Carsen Wheatley.”

I scrunch my nose, thinking, trying to figure out where I’ve heard it before. It does sound vaguely familiar, but I can’t connect it to anything significant. Shrugging, I say, “Sorry. No dice.”

Jase drops his head to the table, sighing. “Dammit, E. I swear, you live in a bubble sometimes.”

“Will you just tell me what your problem with him is? This is getting tiring. I clearly have no idea who he is, so, enlighten me, oh wise one.”

Although he doesn’t lift his head, I know he rolls his eyes as he groans. “Don’t freak out, but…”

“But what?”

“He killed his mother.”

A glass shatters. A stuttered breath is inhaled.

My eyes shoot to the end of table in time to see Carsen whirling around and sprinting through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. I hear crashing and banging and shouting.

Then, it’s silent.

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