“You okay?” he asked me.
I nodded, refusing to wince. But, holy hell, my ribs smarted. Lord had put a lot of effort into that punch.
“We’ll need you to come to my office, Nash,” the head of school said, a harried expression on his face.
“Sure.”
Steve gave me a long look, his gaze landing on Aya, who was still helping collect papers. He frowned and gave me a nod. He laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Proud of you.”
Well, he’d be less proud when he found out I’d nailed Lord in the throat, but whatever. Aya was safe.
“Give me a minute,” I said.
Steve nodded, his gaze flashing back to Aya before he steered the head of school back down the hallway after a much-subdued Lord.
Aya rose and grabbed her bag from my arm.
“I’m heading to the loo,” she said.
“You okay?” I asked her. “Your butt—”
“Is fine,” she said. She glanced around at the dispersing crowd. “That was way too much excitement for my first day.”
“Meet me at the school office,” I said. I looked behind her at Hugh. He’d done his best to protect Aya, so I’d give him another chance. “You, too.”
He fell into step beside me as Aya trotted off toward the bathroom.
“You stay away from her,” I grunted as soon as Aya was out of earshot.
Hugh blinked to focus on me. “She invited me to sit with her at lunch,” he said. “Me and Naomi—you know, my girlfriend.”
“I don’t want you near Aya,” I said. “And do not look down her shirt again, you skeez.”
“That just…they were right…” He cleared his throat. “I love Naomi. But Aya is nice, both in personality and to look at.”
“That’s the problem. She’s new and she’s nice, and I…”
I stopped. Never, never admit when you want something, Nash. That was my mother’s best advice. Or at least the mantra she liked to drape over me. If you do, people will use it as leverage, use it against you.
“You what?” Hugh asked.
“That’s why I invited her to sit with me,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes. I’d nearly broken the rule for a girl.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you and Aya at your table.”
Hugh entered the office while I gritted my teeth, cupping my aching side. Suddenly nothing was going right today. I yanked the door wide and stomped inside.
Steve and the staff assumed my bad attitude was because of the fight Lord started, and I didn’t bother to correct them. Nor did I register Lord’s dismissal from Holyoke. From what I remembered, in a vague, underwater-type of way, Lord never said anything. The punk just disappeared from the school, whisked away like the filth he was. Instead, I focused on listing all the reasons I couldn’t give in to the attraction between Aya and me. Why I didn’t want it.
Then she walked into the headmaster’s office, and the tension drained from my muscles and my head.
I was so totally fucked.
As we walked back to class, late, I asked Aya to sit with me at lunch. She blushed and dropped her eyes.
“I said I’d sit with Hugh since he tried to keep me from hitting the floor when the ‘Prescott shit’ started causing problems.”
I smiled. Her imitation of Steve was spot on.
“Plus,” Aya said, no longer meeting my gaze, “I thought maybe we could hit pause.”
“Why?” I stopped walking and leaned against a row of blue lockers. She wanted to talk, so we’d talk.
She stared down at the ends of her hair, as if mesmerized by them. “I’m not sure about what you did back there…to Lord. Was that necessary?”
“So necessary,” I said on a sigh.
She looked up and met my gaze.
“And long overdue.” I waved my hand. “Everyone is going to be happy about Lord leaving. Except maybe Lindsay.”
She glanced around, but no one was out here in the hallway. Her shoulders slowly relaxed. “Well, I’m still sitting with Hugh and Naomi. I promised.”
That seemed to be the end of the conversation, though I still wanted to argue. Aya must have seen the gleam in my eye because she narrowed hers and put her hands on her hips.
“I promised, Nash.”
She turned and marched down the hall. I caught up to her and grabbed her hand, leading her back to the right door. She muttered thanks but seemed unwilling to meet my gaze.
Whatever.
I settled into my normal seat, scowling when I noted Aya was across the room. That wouldn’t fly. But I’d fix the seating situation tomorrow. I listened with half an ear while the teacher talked about the STEM interdisciplinary project we’d be working on for the rest of the semester. Instead of finals, half the teachers planned to use the project as a large chunk of our grade.
I noted that Aya perked up, her eyes alight with interest.
Right. She loved math and science. Her goal was acceptance at a top-tier engineering school. I had no doubt she’d achieve it…and leave me behind.
I settled back in my desk, arms crossed, and spaced out.
A new melody drifted through my head, and I opened my notebook, writing down the notes, then the lyrics.
The snippet was angsty—perfect for a country tune or an indie rock ballad, depending on which direction I went with the strings. Banjo would be more bluegrass or country…but cello—yes! The deep, melancholy thrum of a cello overlaid with two different guitars. I scribbled the notes through the bell, ignoring everyone in the room.
I finally stood, stretched, winced, and noted Aya hovering near the door.
She was as drawn to me as I was to her.
“He hit you hard,” she said. “Do you need a doctor?”
I shook my head as I packed my backpack. Since we’d missed one class and entered this one late, it was now lunchtime.
I considered switching tables and refusing to sit with Aya. I wasn’t sure I liked her exerting power over me. Not sure at all. But I wasn’t willing to let her out of my sight, which meant…
“Let’s go eat,” I muttered.
9
Nash
I met Aya’s mother and grandfather that afternoon when she invited me back to her house after school. I rather liked them both, and since then we’d been hanging out at her place after school every day. We’d settled into a nice routine. Yesterday, I’d spent an hour or so with her mother while Aya used power tools in the workshop near the garage. The noise gave me a headache, so I’d begged off. Mrs. Didri-Aldringham made me a cup of chai and offered me a couple of Madeleines—as if I’d pass on cookies.
That’s what Aya’s mom went by—Didri-Aldringham—a hyphenated version of her life. “Bifurcated by divorce,” she’d told me. “I refuse to give up my daughter’s last name to please my ex-husband.” Her dark eyes had sparkled with mischief as she munched her cookie. “He can deal.”
Yeah, I liked Ay’s mom a lot. And Mr. Didri was cool, too. He sat in his lush garden and smoked some weird tobacco. His wild stories were way more fun than sitting at home, waiting for Aya to text or Cam to call. So, I spent more and more of my time at the Didri mansion, enjoying their close-knit family.