Page 3 of Stalked

“My taste in friends, apparently,” he retorts, but he's smiling.

The line at Beans stretches almost to the door, but we claim our usual corner booth while Megan and James brave the counter.

“So,” Dani slides in next to me, her voice dropping. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to strangle Vane today?”

“Fifteen,” I say, pulling out my calculus notes. “And before you start with thesexual tensiontheory again?—”

“I didn't say anything!” Dani holds up her hands in mock surrender, but her smirk says everything.

Zoe laughs, settling across from us. “Your face gets all flushed whenever his name comes up. It's kind of adorable.”

“It's called rage,” I correct her, feeling that telltale heat creeping up my neck. “Pure, unadulterated rage.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Dani's knowing look makes me want to disappear under the table.

James and Megan return with a tray of drinks, saving me from further interrogation.

“One vanilla latte for the woman who's definitely not thinking about Vane Blackwood's biceps,” Megan announces, sliding my drink toward me.

I nearly choke. “I was not?—”

“Your words exactly when we passed him at the gym last week were;It should be illegal to fill out a T-shirt like that,” James reminds me, adjusting his glasses with a grin.

“That was... I meant it was distracting the female population from their workouts.” I wrap my hands around my cup, focusing on the warmth rather than the memory of Vane's arms.

“Right,” Zoe says, stirring her chai. “Just like you hate his stupid smirk and his stupidly perfect jawline.”

I groan, dropping my head onto my textbook. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”

The truth is, Vane Blackwood is objectively attractive. I'm not blind. But acknowledging that feels like conceding something in our on-going rivalry, like giving him power he doesn't deserve. It's easier to focus on how much I hate his arrogance, his casual disregard for rules, and that infuriating way he has of making me feel like I'm always one step behind.

“Fine,” Megan relents. “But denying you find him hot doesn't make it less true.”

“I can find someone physically attractive and still think they're the human equivalent of a paper cut,” I mutter into my coffee.

“Enough Vane talk, I’ve got a question about the calc test,” Zoe says, mercifully changing the subject, “did anyone understand that weird integration formula Kendall was talking about yesterday?”

I latch onto the lifeline, grateful for anything that isn't Vane Blackwood. “You mean the integration by parts?”

While James launches into an explanation that's somehow both more complicated and less helpful than the textbook, I try to focus on my latte. The warm, sweet vanilla normally calms me, but today my thoughts keep drifting back to chemistry class. To those dark circles under Vane's eyes. To his casual mention of him and Xavier taking care of his younger brothers.

I shake my head slightly.Stop it.I refuse to feel sorry for him. Plenty of people have hard lives and don't act like entitled jerks.

“Earth to Lia, again,” Megan waves her hand in front of my face. “We're talking about Jordan's party this weekend. Are you coming or what?”

“Sorry,” I mutter. “Yeah, probably. Depends on how much homework we get.”

Dani rolls her eyes. “Of course it does.”

“Some of us care about our futures,” I say, then wince as I realize I'm echoing exactly what I said to Vane earlier.

“The future can wait one night,” Zoe says. “It's senior year. We're supposed to have some fun before college applications eat our souls.”

I nod, pretending to consider the party while my mind stubbornly circles back to Vane. I picture him at home, making sure Knox doesn't burn the house down, checking Landon's homework. It doesn't fit with the image I've built of him over the years.

“Did you guys finish that English essay?” I ask, desperately trying to redirect my own thoughts. “I'm not sure about my conclusion.”

James groans. “Don't remind me. I've rewritten mine three times.”