Crux Year

Chapter Eight - Shay

 We weren't doing anything wrong.

Okay, so maybe we were breaking the rules a little bit, but we didn't kiss. Just touched a little. His lips on the bandage on my neck meant nothing.

Liar.

Last night was a sleepless one as I obsessed over every second we spent alone together in my kitchen.

How his breath tickled over my skin and the way he'd clutched onto my me like I belonged to him—like we were a married couple.

I spent far too long tossing and turning in bed, imagining what it would be like to kiss his lips. To run my fingers through his dark hair and feel him pressed against me. I'd worked myself up into such a mental and physical frenzy, I ended up showering for an eternity this morning as I stroked my hands over a certain needy part of my body while pretending it was his hand instead.

"Everything okay?" Dad Spencer asks from the driver's seat of the car, jerking me from my illicit thoughts.

"Yeah. Perfect," I squeak out. I fidget in my seat, refusing to look over at him. "Are we still going to the tailor after school to pick up my suit?"

"Of course. You'll be the most handsome young man at the Crux ceremony," Dad Spencer gushes. "We can't wait to meet your match." He reaches over and pats my hand. "Soon we'll have two sons. And after that, a grandson."

A stupid grin stretches across my face as I allow myself to imagine a tiny baby that looks like Royal. Dark hair and fiery eyes. I bet he'd be the most beautiful baby on the planet.

But he's not my match.

At least, not officially, though I do get the idea that he thinks we might be.

"Have a great day at school. Let me know how Mr. Ever is doing. Your dad and I are worried. He left in such a rush."

His thoughts mirror my own. I may dislike Royal on many levels, but I don't think I actually hate him like I claim. Seeing him yesterday evening dejected and closed off made my stomach hurt. His dad seemed like such a jerk.

"I'll find out," I assure him. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, Shay."

I climb out of the vehicle and search for Trace. His laugh hits me first before I actually find him. After a quick scan of the courtyard in front of the school, I eventually locate my best friend. His shock of orange-red hair is hard to miss in a crowd.

My mood sours when I see who he's talking to.

Nicky Ewing.

Trace knows I've secretly crushed over Nicky for years. He never flirts with him, but today he's staring at Nicky like he's the sun, stars, and moon. It shouldn't matter because no one is matched yet anyway.

It still stings.

"Hey," I say as I walk up to them, my face warming from Nicky's immediate attention.

Nicky's nose is swollen and purple bruising mars his skin under his eyes. It looks like he ran into a wall. I want to ask but I don't want to be rude about it.

"Oh, hey." Trace shuffles on his feet, not making eye contact. "We were just talking about you."

I startle at his words. "What? Why?"