Page 24 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

Her eyes move up and down, taking in everything. My ripped jeans, black shirt. The armful of leather bracelets with silver studs on them. Under these conditions, I barely look like I should be related to her. My grandmother has been trying to change my wardrobe for months, slowly stealing the black band t-shirts from my closet and replacing them with more demur blouses.

I’ve taken to hiding my favorites.

Amelie closes the door, and I slide to the grass. My back presses against the brick, and I take out my camera again. I have a decent view of the lacrosse field from here, and I’m still hidden…

Most of my shots are blurry, or the exposure washed everything out.

Soon enough, the lacrosse players are packing up and heading back to the locker room. Toward me.

I don’t move, and instead bury my head in my bag, pretending to search for something. Most don’t say anything. Actually, no one says a word to me. I am the invisible girl.

When I finally glance up, I’m alone.

Another few minutes pass. Birds chirp. The sun is out. It’s a nice spring day, really… until cars pull out of their spots and drive away.

I hop to my feet. Amelie didn’t come out, and that should’ve been my first indication that something was wrong. But no, I was too busy taking photos and watching Theo run across the field.

Damn it.

He has a habit of ignoring me. When our interactions aren’t forced, I remain in his background. I desperately want to be seen by him.

The door cracks, and I whirl around. I expect my sister. To be elated—and relieved—that she didn’t forget me.

But instead, my stomach jumps into my throat.

Theo Alistair stares at me.

“She left,” he says.

I lift my chin. I know he means Amelie—I’m not an idiot.

And I know I should feel hurt… or surprise. She left, he just said, but it barely weighs on my conscience. Of course she left. She could’ve forgotten all about her sister waiting for her, or she did it on purpose to get out of hanging out with me. To skirt the dilemma of where to put the bike and what to do with me.

God forbid she talk to me.

“Not surprising,” Theo continues. “She’s got a reputation to uphold.”

Something comes alive within me. I can’t really explain it, but having his eyes on me sets my soul on fire. I just can’t tell right now if it’s a good pain or a bad one.

“I have a reputation, too.”

His gaze flickers over me. “Do you?”

“One of terror.” I smirk. “You know any children in need of frightening?”

He steps fully outside, letting the door bang closed behind him. “You vandalized that billboard, didn’t you?”

“Me?” I ignore the drum of my heartbeat. “Paint is so messy, though.”

“Suits you.”

Suits us, I almost come back with. But he didn’t see my fixation with him in middle school. I doubt he’s ever actually laid eyes on me until now. But still, he’s right: I am chaotic. Like spray paint, I have a tendency to get everywhere. Under nail beds, in hair. I’m bad to breathe in without protection.

“You don’t know me,” I say.

He shrugs. I can’t do anything except gawk at him as he steps around me and pauses beside my bike. He then takes it with him, back toward the parking lot, and my brain lags. Then, suddenly, I snap to attention and rush after him.

“What are you doing?”

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