Page 31 of The Star

“C’mon, Franklin.” He pushes the door open, walking through the gap. He’s naked from the waist up, his lower half only covered by a tight pair of boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. “I’m sore from the game. You could give me a massage, loosen some of the knots.”

I cringe the best I can, even as my body is filled with the urge to climb him like an oak tree. Keeping my gaze on his, I puff my lips a little. “There’s a 100-mile-long list of things I would rather do than take a shower with you. Do you want to hear it?"

He laughs, sliding his hand down the front of his stomach and through the trail of hair there before it slips into the front of his boxers. “Fine.” He turns around, heading back through the door. “You know where I am if you change your mind.”

* * *

I ride to school with Carson again the following Monday, rolling my window down to feel the breeze coming off the Atlantic to the east. Carson doesn’t complain, rolling his window down too, and we ride in silence until we pull into the school parking lot, slipping into the space next to Hayden again.

I ignore the stares from Hayden and Levi as I slide out of the Jeep, landing on the soles of my Doc Martens with a slap on the concrete. They shout outgood mornings, but I just walk away, assuming they’re talking to Carson.

Carson doesn’t say goodbye, and I don’t meet his gaze long enough to expect one. We’re better as strangers that live in the same house, it seems, regardless of how hot my skin turns when I catch him observing me wordlessly from across the kitchen table or when we bump into each other in the hall.

I’m the first to arrive to economics, so I slip into a seat in the back row and pull my backpack on top of the desk to get my notebook. The teacher eyes me from her desk but doesn’t say anything to me. She’s older, with graying hair that sits tight on top of her head in a ballerina bun, pulling the skin on her forehead tight. She seems intense, so I keep my eyes on the blank notebook on my desk.

By the time the bell rings, the class has filled with students. No one makes an effort to talk to me, and I don’t make one right back. I think the way I’m going to get through Luxington High School is by keeping my head down, not engaging, and just focusing on my work.

At least that’s what I think until Levi drops into the seat next to me, pulling my attention like a moth to a flame.

“Sup, ma?” He grins that fool’s grin he seems to have coined, his playful exterior shining bright, as he leans back in his seat and kicks his spread legs out in front of him.

I give him a closed-lipped smile, but don’t offer up anything else in the form of a greeting. His lip pulls down in a fake pout at my silence. “Mad at me?”

I trace my gaze along his face for a few heartbeats. “Aren’t you the dude that trapped me in a janitor’s closet?”

He laughs, and the sound runs through me, making me shift in my seat. “Nah, that was Hayden.”

I twist my mouth to the side, humming like I’m deep in thought, then drop my face back to business. “I remember you throwing me over your shoulder to kidnap me, actually.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “Semantics.”

I laugh at that, his nonchalant demeanor amusing as hell. He’s different than Hayden, and definitely different from Carson. I just can’t put my finger on it. I study his face, and he studies mine, like we’re both trying to see through the bullshit we’re putting on as a mask in this place. As I open my mouth to speak, the teacher cuts off my train of thought.

“Alright, let’s get started.” She steps up to the whiteboard, but before she has a chance to turn and write anything down, Levi’s hand flies in the air.

She sighs. “Yes, Mr. Valentino?”

He points at me with a finger gun. “We have a new student.”

“Yes, Mr. Valentino, she’s been here a week.”

She turns to the whiteboard, dismissing him, but he pipes up again. “I wasn’t in class last week. I had a little run-in with the headmistress, had to do some in school suspension. You understand. Can we have our new student introduce herself?”

I snap my head to look at him, and he’s grinning like a comedian, clearly amused with himself. I cock an eyebrow at him, but before I can tell him howincrediblyhilarious he is, the teacher speaks again. “Mr. Valentino-”

Levi cuts her off, “Mrs. Justice, how many times have I told you… we’re close enough that you can call me Levi.”

I am embarrassed for him, feel it burning through me. A couple of students laugh, entertained by this menace of a boy sitting next to me.

“Mr. Valentino, do you need to see the headmistress?” Mrs. Justice snaps.

He curves his mouth, waving a hand. “Nah. Been there, done that.”

Mrs. Justice’s voice reaches a whole new octave. “Then please let me teach my class with your mouth closed.”

When Mrs. Justice has turned toward the whiteboard and started to write, I shift to look at Levi with my mouth hanging open, because this isnotthe behavior I made up in my head when I imagined students at Luxington. This is playful, childish, love-your-life, have-a-good-time behavior that I wasn’t expecting. “You’re a troublemaker.”

He smiles. “You like it?”

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