Page 11 of Enemy Crush
I gestured over to Mason’s table and Darwin nodded, slurping on a protein shake. I kept up a whole conversation about football just to make sure we didn’t talk about ‘the new girl.’
I’d played football in middle school but didn’t trial in high school, finding that team sports weren’t for me after getting blasted by the Coach for missing a tackle in one game. We’d lost by about thirty points but he’d made like I was the reason for our loss. After that, I always worried about letting everyone down, of not being fast enough or strong enough. Speeding along trails on a mountain bike was my thing, looking out only for myself.
The lunch period ended and I checked my schedule. I would stop by my locker to get rid of my workbooks from this morning, lighten my load for the rest of the afternoon.
Striding down the hallway, I saw the crouched figure of Quinn outside my locker—or our lockers. I was now in this crazy predicament where I was unsure if I should stop and wait for her to leave, or go straight over. Which seemed a stupid thing to worry about—after all, it was my locker too and I had every right to use it whenever I wanted.
I approached in a slow, nonchalant type of way, swinging my backpack off of my shoulder, but with more force than I’d anticipated. It skimmed the side of her arm as it dropped to the floor with a thump. I pretended that’s what I’d intended, well, minus hitting her arm.
She looked up from her squat position, eyes wide and distractingly blue.
“Oh—didn’t see you there,” I said, and because my brain had turned to mush, I clipped, “This is my locker too.”
She scowled—not sure if it was meant for me—but didn’t say anything. My heart started to race, her gentle fragrance clouding my senses. She averted her gaze back to her locker, pointy palepink decorated fingernails stuffing in a book and closing the door. It immediately bounced open again.
“Oh great, just my luck,” she mumbled to herself.
I reached down, gently pushed the door shut and held my leg against it. “You gotta lean into it,” I said. “They can be temperamental.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she muttered, and clearly not appreciating my interference, checked the locker handle to ensure it was indeed locked. Springing to her feet, she adjusted her tote bag—the little purple toy swinging from it—and headed down the hallway.
I spun the combination on my lock, though, dang it, my fingers were fumbling like they couldn’t co-ordinate the dial. Heat flushed across my cheeks and a stupid grin planted itself on my face because now Quinn Devereaux intrigued me more than ever.
AS SOON AS THE FINALbell rang, I raced out to the front gate to meet Mason. I’d stopped briefly at my locker between sixth and seventh period in order to avoid Quinn. Taking the bus home was worse than the morning ride, because everyone was crowding on all at once. Too slow and you might not get a seat. This is where I worried Mason might get pushed around.
I was checking the time every thirty seconds, wondering why he was taking so long, my stress levels rising. Five minutes before the bus left and it was filling up fast. I didn’t want to go back into school to find him. I paced around, stopping only when I saw Quinn nearing.
The adrenaline rush was back. And with a vengeance. I was overheating, my palms clammy, my stomach doing backflips, my emotions a total contradiction. Like when you’re on a bikeweaving through a forest and there’s that point in the trail where your bike flies through the air, and you can’t tell the difference between excitement and fear.
My chest tightened, how I imagined Mason’s did when having an asthma attack. Though mine had nothing to do with narrowing airways. No, it was the sight of Ronan King reaching out to Quinn. Ronan drove a car with a ski rack on top, which made him cool around here. He was one of the top skiers in our school’s team, also a cool thing. We shared a couple of classes and I’d never had a problem with him—well, until now. I watched, hoping Quinn would direct an icy glare at Ronan, but no, he managed to make her smile—and in a genuine way. Not fake, like I incited.
So wrapped up in their encounter, I’d temporarily forgotten my brother’s existence and jolted when the back of my arm was tapped.
My sharp turn caused Mason to jump and I nearly wiped him out with my backpack.
“Geez, Mase,” I snapped, “what are you doing?”
Mason’s grin vanished, his big eyes downcast as he mumbled, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, just get on the bus,” I muttered, casting another glance over at Quinn. Yep, still smiling. Probably Ronan would give her a ride home, or maybe take her to a cafe, buy her a coffee, ask her on a date. “Hey, where’s your friend?”
Mason shrugged. “She wasn’t at her locker.”
“Okay, just go,” I said, physically pushing him toward our bus, deliberately avoiding Quinn and Ronan’s direction. What if they were already a couple? For all I knew, they could be. Ronan hung out in a circle with Chase Masters who was the mayor’s son, Toby Parker, Beau Rafferty and Blanche Coburn, all skiers and snowboarders. They’d be the type of kids Quinn Devereauxwould gravitate to. Families with status and money and cabins in the mountains.
With the back of the bus full of sophomores and juniors, I picked the first available double seat to slide into, closer to the front.
“So, how did it go today? How were your classes?”
Mason was still standing in the aisle and further down I could see Katie in amongst a crowd of kids, probably new freshmen.
“You can go sit with them,” I said.
But he shrugged and said, “It’s okay,” as he plonked himself next to me, almost out of obligation.
“I never heard you talk about Katie before,” I said.
“We were in D&D club together.”
