Page 67 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

He grins. “I picked it up at Meadowview.”

My watch informs me I still have some time, so I drop onto the couch beside him. “How does it feel being out?”

He shrugs. “Every day is a journey in itself. But what is life if not a magnificent journey?”

I stare at him. “Who are you quoting?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something they said a lot.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Adjusting is the hardest part. The lack of routine. Maybe I will start getting up early to run with you—something to start my day off right.”

“Only if you can keep up.” I nudge him and grin.

He laughs. “Yeah, you’d run circles around me now.”

I nod. “Easily.”

“Do you have practice today?” he asks.

“Nope. Just the pasta dinner at Skylar’s. I’ll ask if someone else can take me to grab my car at the end of the day.”

He watches me, then puts the book back on the coffee table. “Right. Let’s do this, then.”

In school, I connect with Skylar and Parker. It seems we’ve become a trio, although I couldn’t have predicted that happening. And now that I have my own little pack, the cheerleaders have backed off. They don’t even seem to care about Skylar anymore.

Or maybe it’s more fun to belittle the terrified freshmen instead of us.

I walk into my American Law class and slam on the brakes. The boy behind me runs into me, then moves around, cursing under his breath. But I can’t move.

Eli is sitting at the desk.

I hurry over to him, glaring. “What are you doing?”

He leans back in his chair and smirks. “Filling in. Now take your seat before I mark you as skipping.”

I narrow my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t I? You seem to have perfect attendance, Ms. Appleton. And an A in this class. It would be a shame to ruin the streak.”

Blackmail.

Figures.

I back away until my butt hits a desk, then I whirl around and take my regular seat. It’s the second row back, right by the window. I like the view and the occasional sunshine that streams across my legs.

The bell rings, and Eli rises, stepping in front of the class. It’s annoying how everyone instantly hushes. He was practically famous, and now he’s back. And he isn’t even embarrassed about his failure.

He writes something on the board, but my gaze is glued to his ass.

It’s hard to concentrate.

I hate myself for it.

There’s a reason I tried to destroy the bridge between us—because I knew I’d be tempted to cross it again. No matter what he did.

The room fills with rustling as the people around me flip open their textbooks, working on problems for the test next week.

My cheeks grow hotter by the second, until I can’t take it anymore.

I stand.

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