My face burned, and I looked away. When I turned back, I caught her looking at me from under her lashes. That time, our gaze held until the bell rang. I couldn’t remember what the teacher said, nor did I care.
My embarrassment dissipated as my excitement to actually speak to Aya grew. I leaped from my chair and wrapped her in a hug, letting my nose fall against the side of her neck. Aya felt so right, so perfect in my arms. Her hair smelled like fresh air and sunshine, the first of which was in short supply even in outdoorsy Austin. Too many cars had led to a layer of smog that I doubted Aya had seen in Nepal.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, not caring that the voices around me rose in excited chatter. Nash Porter wasn’t affectionate. Nash Porter didn’t have girlfriends.
Aya hesitated. She sucked her plump, pink lower lip deep into her mouth.
Now, seeing it in person, I really wanted that lip in my mouth. I wanted that mouth on mine. And…shit. I breathed through the excitement and need even as I moved back enough that she wouldn’t realize my body was jumping at her nearness.
“My grandfather’s sick,” she murmured.
Instant boner killer, and not at all the way I wanted to get there. I grabbed Aya’s backpack and then my own. “Oh. Like sick or…sick?”
She hesitated, a frown tugging at her brows. “He’s going to die soon. We’re staying with him.”
I winced even as I took her hand and led her out into the hall. “That totally sucks.”
She nodded as her lashes dropped to her cheeks. Even sad, she was gorgeous.
I cleared my throat, hoping my body wouldn’t betray me yet again. “That’s a bad thing? Staying with your grandpa?”
“It’s…unexpected.”
That I could understand.
“I’d not met him until a few years ago when my parents divorced. I guess Mum’s marriage caused a bitter rift between them. He told me last night he’d disinherited her until she came to her senses and kicked the rounder to the curb.”
I smirked. “Rounder,” I muttered. “Good British insult.”
Every set of teenaged eyes in the hallway stared as we walked together, their gazes landing on our joined hands.
“Um…why are people staring at me?” Aya whispered, inching closer.
Nice. I liked her there, pressed into my side. I could feel the warmth of her skin against mine. I thought back to the day we’d met, how her hand had felt in mine as I pulled her out of the water.
Something had clicked then, and I felt a similar happiness now.
“They’re not. They’re staring at me. I don’t hold hands. I don’t really like the girls around here all that much.”
“Nash!” She tried to extricate her fingers, but I gripped her hand even tighter.
“You’re different, Ay. Always have been.”
“Because you know me so well from text messages,” she said, her tone on the snarky side. But she relaxed, no longer tugging her hand away. A shiver ran the length of my spine at her acquiescence. And when she met my gaze? Perfection.
“We’ve known each other for years. Most of our lives.”
She laughed. “You didn’t know my name.”
“Didn’t need to. You knew mine.” I winked.
“Sure did, Superstar.”
At my hot look, she dropped her gaze and tucked some of that luscious hair behind her ear.
I nearly purred. Then I saw Hugh from the corner of my eye, his arm draped over Naomi and a knowing look on his stupid face. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. My thing with Aya was nothing like Hugh’s besotted relationship with Naomi. She bossed him around, which was part of why I refused to hang out with either of them. I dropped Aya’s hand.
“What’s your schedule?”
She sighed. “Science, then English.”
My smile grew as she rattled off her schedule. “Same as mine. Oh, this is perfect.”
This time I did purr. Her startled gaze searched my face, and I thought I saw the flare of desire burning in the depths of those pretty violet eyes.
“You can take Lindsay Herrington-Smythe’s seat,” I said, my lip curling. “I can’t stand that girl.”
“I’m not stealing someone’s seat,” Aya replied, her face haughty. “That wouldn’t be kind.”
“Lindsay keeps trying to grab my junk,” I said. Total lie. Well, she had stared at my crotch often enough to make me self-conscious.
And my dislike of her was the truth. Something about her reminded me of Lord—in the worst possible way. She took genuine pleasure in hurting others’ feelings. It was one thing to be aloof, untouchable—I had perfected that art early and used it to my advantage—but Lindsay was mean.
Aya took a protective step closer. “I’ll sit next to you,” she said. She seemed to struggle to meet my gaze, her pupils dilated.
I wanted to fist pump. Yes. Aya Aldringham wanted me, too.
Her tongue darted out, bathing that plump lower lip I’d obsessed over for years. I leaned in closer, mesmerized. Her lips parted, her breath flooding past that luscious pink perfection in a tumble of heat. Desire licked hard and hot up my middle.
Someone bumped my shoulder, breaking the spell. I blinked and stepped back.
Fuck.
Fuckity fuck.
Aya was my friend. My only real friend. No way I was messing with that—not even if I suddenly needed her taste like I needed air.
I cleared my throat, my smile weak. “Great.”
What had I gotten myself into?
“Where did she come from?” Lindsay asked her friend as she passed Aya and me in the hall later that afternoon. Lindsay narrowed her dark brown eyes, and her thin, bright red lips smashed flat as she stared at me holding Aya’s hand, though she never broke her stride.
“Is she English?” Aya asked, her chin lifted toward Lindsay.
“Yeah. She’s from some suburb of London. Her dad’s in IT. He came here and set up a thinktank or something. He’s kind of a big deal in Austin circles.”
“Weird. I didn’t realize Austin was so…”
“Urbane?” I asked. “Cultured?”
“International,” Aya replied, her tone dry.
“I have no idea,” Lindsay’s friend, Stef, said as they paused a little farther down the hall.
Lindsay popped her gum while trying to give us a filthy glare. I held Stef’s gaze long enough for her to flush and look away, though Lindsay remained too bold and angry to bow under my stare. I’d been practicing the expression after watching Camden Grace use it on an overstepping journalist this past weekend.
“What’s with that look?” Aya asked.
“Something I’m trying out,” I murmured, refusing to be the first to break eye contact with Lindsay.
Stef tugged at Lindsay’s arm, finally leading her away. The girls turned the corner, cutting off the staring contest. Aya heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“You weren’t kidding about the mean-girl vibe,” Aya said.
“Wait for it,” I told her. “The boys are just as gossipy and mean.”
Aya leaned her head back and groaned. Somehow, I palmed her hip. Her warmth saturated my skin even through the denim. I flexed my fingers, enjoying the supple give of her flesh.