Page 12 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)

“Fuck you.” Those mocking cicadas followed me as I turned and stormed down the hall, letting the bag scrape against the walls leading to his room.

It had been a pipe dream to think I’d win against Carver Roland based on pure luck alone—Lady Luck had never favored me once in my life. So why would she now?

TEN YEARS AGO

Waves of dizziness mocked me as I tried to remember the locker combination, spinning the dial whenever a number felt somewhat familiar.

“Fuck,” I murmured, smacking the metal like that would help. “Come on, open.”

“Need a hand?” A glance to my side revealed a smarmy grin spread over broadened cheekbones and a strong, angular jawline.

“No. I think I got it.”

“What’s your number?”

“What?” I asked as confusion rippled through my sleep-deprived brain.

The jock—most notably one by his lettered jacket—stepped closer, pointing at the lock. “Your code, I mean. For the locker?”

“Oh.” I looked down at the fading numbers I’d scribbled on my palms. “Um.”

“Was this it?” His fingers intruded immediately, pressing into my slightly dampened hands. A deep chuckle escaped him, and I had the inkling to move away. Mama always told me to trust my gut—especially when it came to the opposite sex.

And my gut was telling me this guy meant no good.

A crease formed between his eyes. “Hey, I’m only trying to help. You can—”

“Fuck off, Noah."

The jock, or Noah, put his hands up, that smile of his coming right back to life. “Carver.” Car did not look as amused. “I see you take your bets seriously.”

I leaned back against the rest of the lockers, glancing down at the numbers, trying to remember what the hell they were because there was no way I was deciphering them, but my brain couldn’t focus on that.

“Bets?” I tipped my heavy head back, rolling it along the metal. “What did you bet?”

“Nothing. Noah’s an asshole who has somewhere he needs to be.” Car’s fist curled in at his side, his usually friendly demeanor replaced with one I had yet to see. It almost looked like pure rage. A face like that on Chet would have terrified me, but on Carver, it only made me concerned.

“Oh, come on, Roland.” Noah landed a soft punch, like a bro-nudge, on Carver’s shoulder. Though Noah and Carver were about the same height and build, Carver stood like a soldier, all squared-back shoulders and lifted chin. Noah’s eyes darted between us. “You forfeit?”

“I’m not discussing this now, Hudson,” Carver said through gritted teeth.

“A bet is a bet, whatever it was.” I shrugged, turning back to my locker to try opening it with one of the numbers I could now make out, my mind somewhat clearing. “You can’t just back out.”

I could hear the grin on Noah’s face as he said, “Smart girl, she is.” Then his voice lowered, and some exchange happened between them I couldn’t quite hear.

Suddenly, a loud bang erupted behind me. I spun around, finding Noah pinned against the opposite wall of lockers by Carver, who was holding him there by the throat.

“You need to learn to stay the fuck back.” He yanked Noah forward only to slam him back against the lockers again. “If you ever go near her again, I swear—”

“Car!” I stepped into the small space between them as Noah sneered at Carver. “Let him go!” Students swarmed around us as Carver’s hold seemed to tighten, Noah’s face turning a deep red.

“Don’t listen to a word he says. Got it?”

I nodded furiously. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—”

Noah’s sputtering breaths were coming out choppy while the students flanking behind Carver started cheering him on. The look in his eyes, the anger he held—I didn’t know he could be like that.

“Carver.” I cupped his face, and his gaze immediately ripped from Noah’s throat and softened toward me. “Let him go. Whatever it is, it ain’t worth getting suspended over. They’ll kick you from the program.” His brows dipped. “Please, Car.”

His shoulders dropped right before he released Noah, and I grabbed his hand and dragged him on fast heels through the parting sea of students, leading him through a set of exit doors.

I didn’t stop running with him until we were in the field, right by the place we’d met weeks before. Releasing his hand, I spun to face him, all dizziness replaced by thundering adrenaline. “What the hell was that?”

Carver’s chest expanded and contracted with heavy breaths, his blue eyes darkening. “Nothin’, Ly.”

I flung my arm toward the school. “ That wasn’t nothin’. He was only trying to help me with my locker. You had no reason to go actin’ all—”

“I have every fuckin’ right to act like I did back there. When it comes to you, don’t tell me how to act.”

I tried to swallow past a thick lump forming in my throat. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Rain erupted above us in true Florida fashion, coming down heavy and sudden. Carver dragged a hand through his hair, slicking the wet strands back. I gasped at the way he was looking back at me, like nothing I’d ever seen before.

I took a step back.

Carver took three steps forward and wrapped his arms around my waist. I shuddered in his hold, the warmth of his arms combatting with the cold from the rain sticking to my skin.

“Don’t run from me.” His next words came out shaky, that angry version of him toning down to the Carver I’d come to know. “You can run from anyone else you want, but not me.”

Rain battered my forehead as I angled my chin toward the sky—toward him. Sun beamed through the drops, creating a rainbow of colors that reflected in his eyes as he held my gaze, all anger wiped from his features. “What’s going on with you?”

His hold on me tightened as he chuckled softly. “What’s goin’ on with me?” he repeated the question, sounding incredulous. “What’s goin’ on with me is you, Lyra Thomas.”

As my lips parted, his crashed into mine. The hard lines of his body melded to me, softening my arms as I reached my hands around his neck. When he groaned against my mouth, my brain turned to fodder.

My untrained lips parted more, giving him access as he swept his tongue in.

All at once, he dropped to his knees, taking me down with him in an uncoordinated mess of warm, wet bodies as our kiss deepened.

Carver’s lips moved as his hands grasped my thighs, situating them on either side of his bent legs.

My bag slipped from my shoulders as his hands worked their way up my back, our kiss slowing until I put my hand to his chest and reared back. Carver’s lips were swollen and pouty, and an odd sort of satisfaction and warmth spread through me as he smiled.

“Why’re we stoppin’?” he whispered, trying to pull me closer, but my hand stayed firm on his chest.

“Why…why would you kiss me?”

His fingers swept gently down my back. “’Cause I like you.”

My brows furrowed. “You do?”

He laughed. “Obviously.”

My brain pieced together how he’d slammed Noah against the wall after talking to me. The way he threatened him. Oh. “You were jealous?”

He touched the tip of my nose with his finger. “Yes.” It took a minute before a slow grin spread across my face. “Are you okay with that?”

I shook my head, then mid-shake, switched to a nod. “I, uh—”

“What, Ly?”

“It’s stupid.”

His fingers cupped my chin. “Nothing you say is stupid.”

“It’s just…you’re like the Eumaeus atala . Well, most butterflies in some ways, but”—I pushed dark strands from his face, staring right into his crystalline blue eyes—“the atala, I think, fits you the most.”