Aya’s tits rose and fell as she glanced over my shoulder. Her voice came out a bit higher than normal, and her pulse pounded in her neck.
Already I craved her. How had I gone so long without this? How could I manage a full day, let alone weeks of being near her, needing to be nearer? Emotions jangled through me, terrifying in their ferocity.
Her lids lowered, her lashes covering her eyes. “Nash…”
“Omigod, Nash likes her,” a girl squealed.
We both startled. I stepped back.
“This situation is scarier than those cliffs I showed you,” Aya murmured.
“More dangerous, too,” I deadpanned. “But don’t worry, as long as you stick with me, kid, you’re golden.”
“Because of your parents?” Aya asked. Her wide eyes caught mine. “Do you think that’s right? Fair?”
I shook my head. “Neither. But it’s the pecking order. And it’s not just my parents—my mom’s father owns the hotels these people stay at all over the world. We’re rich fuckers who lunch with global leaders. That’s also why no one cares if I’m feeling sad or lonely or whatever.”
“That’s impossibly sad.” Aya looked down.
“Maybe. But as much as they want to take me down—and they do, so bad—they can’t touch me without pissing off the head of the RNC, DNC, SBU, Jetsetter Records, you name it.”
“You never told me how you ended up in Austin,” she said, tilting her head so all that glorious hair spilled down her neck, cascading over her chest. I nearly groaned. Being near Aya was the most perfect torture.
I shrugged and attempted a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “My Pop Syad—my grandfather—he owns a large IT firm in addition to his hotels. He moved my mother here when she was a teenager, and she liked it. My dad bummed through all the live music venues. That’s how they met. His band, Quantum, played lots of clubs and scored its first national record contract about ten years ago.”
I frowned, my high of spending time with Aya fading as the realities of my life slammed back into me. For a few moments, Aya had managed to keep those worries at bay. Even after all this time, I didn’t have much ability to create new music. The last song I’d composed had been another one with Cam, and Dad wasn’t going to be happy when he found out about that.
Aya snorted. “The inability to touch you must drive these kids crazy.”
I lifted my chin, trying not to think about how I wanted her to touch me—or where. “Lord the most. That guy hates me.”
As if he knew I was talking about him, Lord lumbered over and bumped my shoulder hard, forcing me closer to Aya.
“Looks like Nashville’s got himself a girlfriend. I wonder if she knows he used to cry about his mommy’s drug problem.”
I feigned a disappointed sigh, even as the bite of shame slid up the back of my neck. I had cried the year Lev died—blubbered in the bathroom—because it was the first time I’d had to sit at a lunch table without him.
“She likes vodka, dipshit. Coke was so last year. Might want to pass that on since your mom’s known for her coke nose. Oh, right! You don’t see her or her nose because your parents refuse to live in the same state as you.”
Lord raised his fist, his face florid, but Aya stuck out her foot, tripping him as he hurtled toward me.
“How clumsy of you,” she said, batting her long eyelashes. “Would you like a hand up?”
Aya started to bend down just as Lord rose with a snarl, slamming his shoulder into her chest. The impact caused her to fly backward into Hugh, who’d been walking by. He dropped his book bag and a big, messy pile of papers flew from his binder as he attempted to catch her. The two of them tumbled to the floor, Aya sprawled atop a befuddled Hugh.
Lindsay and Stef shrieked with laughter, sounding like hyenas ready to close in on their kill. They must have been lurking right around the corner. They were probably the ones who sent Lord to bug me. I never underestimated Lindsay’s mean streak, and this situation seemed to be the kind both she and Lord lived for.
Hugh shifted, his hand sliding over Aya’s chest. I heard a deep whooshing in my ears as her eyes widened and her jaw trembled.
“That’s it,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying an intensity that caused everyone in the hallway to stop.
I stepped closer and helped Aya up, even as red tinged the edges of my vision.
“You okay?” I asked, searching her face, desperate for reassurance.
She nodded, eyes wide, cheeks redder than the Oscar carpet.
“Yeah?” Lord said. He cracked his knuckles. “That’s it? What the fuck does that even mean? You think you’re going to take me down? By yourself.” He snorted.
“I don’t need to hit you, as enjoyable as that would be. I have much more effective means of dealing with your assholery.”
Still, I pulled my arm back and shot my fist into Lord’s Adam’s apple. He gasped for air.
“Don’t fuck with me, Lord. Don’t touch my friends. You hear me?”
Lord choked, his face mottled but filled with hatred.
I wasn’t done. I sent Steve a text. Got a situation in the hallway. Lord Prescott threatened me and shoved my friends around. I want to hit him.
I left off the again because Steve was going to be pissed when he found out I’d hit Lord in the first place.
My phone rang. “I’m on my way inside,” Steve said. “And I’ll take care of Lord.”
“I want him gone, Steve,” I snapped. “As in expelled. He shoved a girl.”
I risked a look back at Aya, who I’d kept behind me, not willing to let Lord hurt her again. A flush burned under her tanned skin, and I liked the look on her. She was slightly exotic but completely familiar—an electric combination.
“I’ll deal with Prescott,” Steve said again.
Lord must have heard Steve’s comment, because his mouth fell open and his eyes bugged. I didn’t bother to hold back my smile. “One phone call,” I’d told Lord. I’d told them all. But until the douche monkey came at Aya, I hadn’t cared enough to follow through.
That all changed when Lord put his hands on my girl.
My girl.
I gripped my phone tighter, needing it to tether me to the now. Shock and something warm settled in the angry swamp of my belly. For some reason, I didn’t hate the thought of Aya being my girl as much as I probably should’ve.
Aya bent down now, along with Naomi and Hugh, to collect the papers strewn across the hallway. Hugh, the asshole that he was, stared down Aya’s V-neck shirt, his mouth gaping like a freaking fish out of water, until Naomi elbowed him hard, right in the thigh.
I smirked, deciding I might actually like Naomi after all.
Lord stood up, his stance menacing. He raised his fists and launched himself at me. I managed to duck the first attempt—a right hook, but his left fist caught me in the ribs. I grunted. Over Lord’s shoulder I caught a glimpse of two armed security guards running toward us, followed by the head of school and Steve.
“Get the Prescott shit off him now,” Steve snapped to the guards. “Or I’ll do it. And I won’t be nice.”
The guards each gripped one of Lord’s arms, dragging him backward. Steve cast the bully a furious look.