“Thank you.” With that, the new girl beelines to the desk and settles on her chair.
It’s almost difficult to believe that a little less than two months ago, I was the new girl at Hawthorne Prep. A shudder scuttles down my spine as memories engulf me.
I flash a smile in her direction, wanting to put her at ease. “Hi,” I whisper, “I’m Summer.”
“Everly.” Her lips quirk into a grateful smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
When Ms. Pettijohn clears her throat, I glance to the front of the room. My gaze immediately crashes with her narrowed one and I wince, dreading the none-too-gentle reprimand sure to follow.
“I do hope we’re not interrupting your conversation, Ms. Hawthorne.”
Warmth floods into my cheeks as I straighten in my chair. “No, ma’am.”
“Excellent.” She pauses and a few people turn in their seats to stare. “I trust you would approve of starting class since we have a great deal of instruction that needs to occur and a limited amount of time to impart it?”
I nod, not bothering to give a verbal response since we all know the question is more rhetorical in nature. Sloane swivels on her chair enough for me to see the delighted smile wreathing her face. Thank goodness this is the only class we share. When I glance at Kingsley, he gives me a little wink. The tension coiled tightly in the pit of my belly gradually loosens.
The next forty-eight minutes drag as we do a deep delve into Wuthering Heights. Even though I adore the story and have read it more than half a dozen times, Ms. Pettijohn manages to suck every drop of pleasure out of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship. It’s a relief when the bell rings, signaling the end of the period.
“All right, everyone,” the older woman says, “don’t forget about the quiz tomorrow. Study as if your grade depends on it.” There’s a pause. “Because it does.”
A groan ripples throughout the sea of navy blazers.
“Ms. Donahue,” the teacher holds up the thick literature tome, “here is your textbook. There are several novels that are required reading for the semester. Please consider purchasing them. The list is on the syllabus. As I’m sure you could surmise, we’re midway through Wuthering Heights. If you don’t own a copy, I highly suggest you get your hands on one.”
Everly nods.
When another student captures Ms. Pettijohn’s attention, I say, “If you need a copy, I can lend you mine. I’ve already read the story.”
“Are you sure?” Surprise colors Everly’s expression. “I’d really appreciate that. I’ll order it after school.”
I wave off her gratitude. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Excellent,” Ms. Pettijohn cuts in before pointedly glancing at the clock on the wall. “You should both get moving to second hour.”
A quick glance around reveals that all the other students have fled the room. Not that I can blame them. Normally, I’m one of the first to escape.
As we exit the room, Everly falls in line with me.
“What’s your next—”
My voice is abruptly cut off when arms wrap around from behind, hoisting me off the floor before swinging me in a tight circle. When I squeal, Everly’s brows skyrocket across her forehead. For a heartbeat or two, I get lost in the feel of Kingsley and almost forget she’s beside me. The urge to burrow against his warmth thrums through me.
Instead, I push my way out of his embrace before clearing my throat and waving a hand toward the dark-haired boy. “Everly, this is my boyfriend, Kingsley.”
Other than family, no one knows we’re secretly engaged. And that’s exactly the way I want it to stay.
“Hi,” she says, a friendly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Kingsley jerks his chin in acknowledgment. “Welcome to Hawthorne Prep.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze roams over the crowded hallway. “I’m not going to lie, this place is kind of intimidating.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, remembering how daunting it felt when Austin rolled the G-wagon through the wrought iron gates for the first time and we got a good look at the school, “I know the feeling.”
“All right, babe. I gotta take off.” Kingsley smacks a kiss against my lips. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Okay.” It’s oh-so-tempting to melt against him. There might be conflict raging inside my head, but my body knows exactly what it wants.
Kingsley.
Everly and I watch him saunter in the opposite direction as we’re swept away on a tide of students moving down the packed hallway.
When he disappears, Everly turns to me with a bemused expression. “So that’s your boyfriend, huh?”
A little bubble of giddiness explodes inside me.
“Yup, that’s him.” As the words slide from my lips, I realize how much I like them. How much I like being in a relationship with him. It’s what makes the situation with my parents so complicated. I wish the family business had nothing to do with us.