Page 21 of Crush

It really is. My face has grown so hot, I’m sure I’m the color of the ripest tomato the Winthorpe cafeteria has to offer. It’s best for both of us if I face the front so I can give my blood the time it needs to go back to where it belongs in my body. And my head to be set straight.

At last, Miss Oppenheimer strolls in, our English assignments clutched to her chest as she sets her thermos on her desk. “Sorry I’m late! I had to—oh! Mr. Aiden, so wonderful to see you back! Class, please assist me in welcoming Zachariah Aiden back to Winthorpe Academy. He’s been so busy with the production of, what is it, the third installment of the Gilded Crest series? I must say, I can’t wait for it to come out in theaters.”

Zeke humbly waves off the polite applause. “Thanks, Miss Oppenheimer, but you don’t have to do that. I’m just like everyone else.”

My gaze ping-pongs from Zeke to Miss Oppenheimer, then back to Zeke again.

That little … “There are no gorillas, are there?” I whisper.

He catches my eye and winks.

“I’m sure the swim team will be eager to have you back,” Miss Oppenheimer says. “We need you this year.”

Mention of the swim team has me finally pinpointing the source of the sharp pinpricks that have been gnawing at the side of my face since Zeke sat down. I follow the trail, only to hit a molten, white-hot stare.

Thorne is busy attempting to melt the skin off Zeke’s bones, but he takes the time to flick his eyes to me, where they grow dark with impending doom.

I angle my head, intrigued. Rarely does Thorne wear such visible hate. He focuses on us as though he’s eavesdropped on Zeke’s and my entire conversation, but there’s no way his murder-stare relates to jealousy. Thorne practically threw me off a cliff. Made me walk barefoot up one. I am the last thing on that jerk’s mind, so it must be Zeke who’s making him want to light this side of the room on fire.

I glare just as hard at Thorne in return.

Miss Oppenheimer starts the class, so I tear my gaze away from Thorne.

And start paying more attention to Zeke.

9

Ember

I spend my free period in the computer lab to research Zachariah Aiden. Or Zeke Aiden, as he’s known to his friends and the rest of the entire freaking world.

He first found success in fast food commercials, but that boyish face with the witty grin quickly turned into one of the most sought-after teen actors in the industry. Zeke broke out in an original Netflix series but solidified his heartthrob status when he nabbed the starring role in a Gossip Girl meets Vampire Diaries movie trilogy, where he plays a shapeshifting god wreaking havoc in an elite private school.

Not one gorilla in sight.

I wish I’d seen Zeke before he sat down next to me. At least then I would’ve had a clue. As soon as Oppenheimer dismissed the class, Zeke acted like a magnet at the earth’s core, drawing all humans within proximity to his seat. The girls fawned, and the guys high-fived (some vice versa). All but Thorne, who shoved back his chair and stalked out of the room with a storm cloud for a mouth. I followed suit, not because I wanted to fall in line with Thorne but mortified that 1) I believed Zeke’s stupid gorilla story, and 2) he must’ve pegged me as impressionable and gullible the moment he spotted me.

God. I really was living under a rock with my parents, more focused on school and my dad’s business than going to the movies. Kinsey, my one and only friend in Boston, probably knows of him and would slap the back of my head at the thought of me sitting next to the Zeke Aiden and having no fucking idea.

I hate feeling like an idiot.

The thought of Kinsey brings me back to my parents and my home. My fingers hover over the keyboard, done with research and more eager to type something else. Like send an email.

Malcolm couldn’t possibly know if I created a dummy account and sent something to Mom … could he?

The ache in my chest widens.

I could do it. Just send something short and simple to let them know I love them, despite everything that’s gone on, and that I want to come home.

Please, come get me. Fight for me.

A hand slams against the monitor, obscuring Zeke’s pop news article and sending me flying against the chair.

“Interested in becoming a starfucker, little pretty?”

“Go away, Thorne.” I speak through my pounding heart, hoping my face remains expressionless and he can’t see the effect he has on me simply by being close.

He leans against the computer desk, lowering his head. “You’re on my turf. I don’t take kindly to being told to leave my own property.”