Hardin’s supposed to be my time away since it feels like I’m being shadowed all the time now. I figured if I got a job there, they’d feel secure in the location and leave me alone.
I’d been wrong, dead wrong. Out of pure coincidence, Silas, Cole’s father, also decided it’s a good time for his son to start apprenticing.
“You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
“You are,” I point out. Tapping Hailey’s nose with a chuckle.
“Well can you blame me?” she defends. “They’re all easy on the eyes and the only thing covering their pocket rockets are their shorts.”
“I’m not judging,” I affirm, ogling myself because she isn’t wrong. Well, almost everyone.
The latter is still out on the dark-haired one ruling the court.
“Six packs and sweaty,” Hailey sighs in appreciation. “How has more of this school’s female population not thought of this? I mean, it’s basically a free show five days of the week.”
I wince. I haven’t told her what happened—or almost happened—yesterday in my room with Iceman.
Not that she notices. Her eyes are glued to the court. Tracking one player more closely than the others.
Don’t think I haven’t observed Finn’s more frequent glances up in this direction on days she joins as well. My heart may be sick, but that doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t working.
I pull back out my textbook and hear Hailey’s groans of agony beside me even as she does the same. Break’s over.
We work in comfortable silence for a while after that. The sounds of squeaking shoes and high-pitched whistles are a lulling background noise as I concentrate.
It also helps that we sit farther up.
I prefer it, especially when Coach likes to go on one of his whistle-blaring rampages. I’m not sure how he hasn’t made blowing that thing without getting winded an Olympic sport, but here we are.
“Got any plans for the weekend,” Hailey questions, not lifting her head from her textbook.
I go still, catching the pause in her question. The delay is what worries me.
My nose wrinkles. “You reek of hidden motives. Spit out what I know you want to say,” I stress. Already knowing what she’s trying to get at. It’s the same thing that Finn badgered me about with the streamers.
It’s my birthday this weekend.
“Did Finn put you up to this?” I ask, shooting her an accusatory look.
Her cheeks hollow before turning a nice shade of pink and I have my answer. The dickhead.
I exhale, slamming my book closed. There isn’t a point in trying to work on my calculus anymore. “What’s he got planned?”
“What, I, no… he… it’s your birthday?” she splutters, chopping out something that is most definitely not a complete sentence.
The only thing worse than her acting is her ability to think I will fall for her trap.
I roll my eyes. They both need to work on being more subtle, or is it less? I clear my head. It doesn’t matter.
I scan her face, glowering. “Why did your voice get all high-pitched and squeaky?”
“It didn’t get high-pitchedorsqueaky.” She argues even as her voice continues to rise an octave after each syllable.
My shoulders slouch, hunching in on themselves when that dimple pops out. I know what usually follows shortly after.
Hailey tries her best to be evasive but the contained excitement bursts out like one of those toy snakes from a can.