Page 91 of Cruel Academy (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 2)

“Oh no,” I say with a fake pout. “Am I hurting your reputation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Literally every second I’m in your presence.”

I laugh, but he isn’t lying. Caleb is a known lady killer, and spending so much time with me is raising some eyebrows. I don’t care, but I worry that he will start to.

It’s why I haven’t asked about our relationship or tried to push anything. I feel comfortable with where we are now. Safe.

I don’t want anything to change.

When we reach my biology class, Caleb tugs on my ponytail and spins as he passes me, walking backwards without a thought for who he might bump into. He doesn’t have to think about it because everyone moves out of his way.

“I’ll see you at the game tonight?”

I shake a pretend pom-pom in the air. “I’ll be there.”

“Please bring a pom-pom,” he says with a laugh. Then, his face lights up with an idea. “And if you happen to have a skirt and a crop top you could wear, then—”

I hold up a hand to stop him. “Save your breath. Not going to happen.”

He pouts, his full lower lip looking deliciously kissable. When I shake my head to punctuate exactly how much that is not going to happen, he shrugs, gives me a quick wave, and turns to saunter down the hallway.

Caleb once said there are other ways to fight than with fists, and right now as he walks away leaving me hanging, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.

He is devastating.

33

Haley

Endurance is just as important in a fight as strength. Or, so says Caleb. So, on the days we can’t train, I go for a run.

I’ve been running since middle school. I joined the track team briefly, but my long legs meant I was a shoo-in for the hurdles, and I felt far too much like a show horse doing an obstacle course, so I quit.

But I never quit running.

It’s my alone time. A guaranteed window of time where I can put in my earbuds, listen to music, and tune out everything else.

Usually, I keep my phone on “Do Not Disturb,” even though it’s not like my phone is exactly blowing up with notifications on a normal day, but today I forgot.

Still, I’d normally ignore the vibration and check my phone when I finish my run, but I can’t quite push away the thought that it could be Caleb.

Even though I know Caleb is getting ready for the game tonight, and he never has his phone on him before a game, I still think he might need something or want me to wish him luck or … I’m not sure. I have to check it.

I slow to a stop, veer off the sidewalk and into the shaded grass, and unstrap my phone from my arm.

Caleb didn’t text me—shocker.

But Estefania did, which is an actual surprise.

I fumble to unlock my phone, cursing when the fingerprint recognition fails to recognize my sweaty fingerprint. I wipe my hand on my shorts and try again before I give up and punch in my six-digit PIN code.

Can we talk?

Weeks of unanswered texts and calls and voice mails, and now this. Estefania wants to talk. Just like that.

I’m too excited to be suspicious, even after the knowledge of her betrayal the last time she texted me.

Yes! When? I’m free whenever.

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