Page 22 of Spearcrest Knight

“Want me to drop you off?”

“You drive?” she asks with a frown.

I grin. “Of course. And all my dad’s cars are here.”

“Oh my god, a joyride with the cutest boy in the year?” she says, her voice and expression completely blank. “What more could I ever want?”

I stand a little closer to her, and that familiar heat in the pit of my stomach is back. She’s not giving me a lot, but she’s giving me enough for the excitement and adrenaline to rush through me.

“The cutest boy in the year, Sutton?” I ask, watching her face closely for the smallest reaction. “Is that so?”

She nods. “Totally. My only dream is that you’ll take me to prom.”

Her words unleash a flood of images through my mind.

Sophie in a prom dress, probably something edgy and black because she’s too cool for jewel tones and crystals.

Sophie in the passenger’s seat of my car, filling the air with the sweet vanilla perfume of her. My hand resting on her thigh as I drive, slowly moving up, her skirt gathering in the crook of my elbow.

Walking into the party with Sophie on my arm, fetching her cups of spiked punch, dancing tipsily with her under the glittering lights of cheesy disco balls.

Kissing Sophie, hard and breathlessly, outside against the hood of my car. Pushing her into the backseat to kiss my way up her legs, to taste her pretty pussy and take her, hard and rough in the darkness.

Not because I like her and she likes me.

But because Sophie is so closed in on herself that touching her is an act of conquest, of victory.

“Really?” I breathe, my throat suddenly tight.

“No,” she snaps. “Obviously not. Spearcrest doesn’t even have a prom. Nor do I want you to drive me anywhere. I want you to honour our deal and get out of my way.”

I move away from the door and let her through.

She doesn’t bother to say goodbye. She simply stomps away like the uptight, cocky little fucker she is, disappearing around the bend in the drive. I remain standing in the doorway for a long time, the adrenaline ebbing and fading.

And when it’s gone, all that’s left is the aching, hungry thought of touching Sophie Sutton.

The First Time Evan Touched Sophie

Ididn’tevenrealiseI was becoming friends with Sophie while it happened. I didn’t realise until one day when Sophie and I were walking from our English classroom to the Science building, talking about our plans for the weekend.

“My parents are away but my sister is flying in from New York, so we’re going to spend the weekend in London. She’ll probably make me carry all her shopping bags around like she normally does.” I turn to Sophie. “What about you?”

She shrugs. “Stuck here again. My parents are refusing to let me come home from Spearcrest until I make friends.”

I grin at her. “Well, can’t you tell them you’re made a friend? I count, don’t I?”

She stops in her tracks and looks at me. I really like the way Sophie looks at me: direct and serious. Often, looking at Sophie feels like looking at an adult, a young woman who is already miles ahead of me. It’s a little intimidating, and totally captivating.

But today, she is more serious than usual.

Her voice comes out low and earnest. “Are we friends, then?”

My heart is a little too light in my chest, like the flutter of nerves before a rugby match. I bite the inside of my cheek, then shrug.

“Yeah—right?”

She looks at me, and I can’t read her expression at all. Then she gives a slow nod. “Yes.”

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