Page 22 of Stealing Embers
I scan the cafeteria until I spot a guy who looks vaguely familiar. He has the same jawline as the twins sitting across from me, but he appears a bit older than them. Similar dark hair, but shorter on the sides and a shade darker—the black reminds me of a raven’s feather. His full lips twist into a side smirk as he listens to someone talking on the other side of his table.
Squinting my eyes and with a head tilt, I keep filing away information about the guy.
He’s slouched comfortably in the almost-too-small chair, with his arm lazily draped along the back of the seat of the beautiful girl beside him. Dark brown hair the color of chestnuts hangs in loose curls down to her waist. Her face is the perfect heart-shape. Even from my spot, I catalogue her delicate nose and large green eyes framed by thick lashes.
Laughing, she brings her hand to rest on Steel’s bicep in a gesture of familiarity.
The gesture prickles my annoyance even when I know it shouldn’t.
“That may have been him,” I confess, forcing my attention to my own table.
“Oh, man!” Sterling slaps the table. “This is the best day ever. Not only has she dubbed him a fat turkey, but she broke his nose and can’t even remember what he looks like. I’m going to hold this over him forever.”
It’s a miracle all the commotion hasn’t drawn the gaze of the whole cafeteria. As it is, several of the closest tables have stopped their conversations to cast curious glances our way.
I am not going to survive with this bunch.
How many people would notice if I slid under the table and hid?
Hiding is my thing. I’m good at hiding.
“You’re right,” Greyson adds, looking as if he’s enjoying this—whateverthisis—as much as his brother. “This ought to deflate his ego a bit.”
To my absolute horror, Sterling starts waving his arms in the air and shouts above the chatter. “Yo, Steel. Looks like you don’t have a perfect record anymore.”
A teal-blue gaze swings to our table and lands on Sterling before sliding over to me. The girl at his side continues to talk even though she no longer has his attention.
I try to look away—I swear I try—but can’t.
“Grey, this is classic.” Sterling is standing up now and pointing at his older brother. “Does he have a black eye?”
It’s hard to tell from so far away, but it does look like the skin under Steel’s right eye is slightly discolored by a greenish-yellow hue. I remember the punch I threw before I was hauled over his shoulder. I can’t muster up the strength to feel sorry for it though. In fact, I’m glad I clocked him instead of Sable.
“You punched him?” Ash’s voice is full of awe. I break eye contact with Steel to answer.
“He was trying to kidnap me.”
Howls of laughter start from the brothers again and I roll my eyes.
“I wasn’t trying to kidnap you. I was rescuing you from the Fallen.”
A zing of awareness shoots up my spine when the words are uttered in the familiar deep timbre. I may not have recognized his face, but his voice certainly left an impression.
Greyson and Sterling laugh so hard, their faces turn red and blotchy. Not a great look on either of them. Sterling’s eyes have even started to water.
Well, these two are obviously useless.
Kenna and Hadley stare slack-jawed at a point above my head—presumably where Steel is standing. Their eyes take on a bug-like quality and if I’m not mistaken, a few stars float in them as well.
After a beat, Hadley’s gaze moves to me before she looks down at her plate like it holds the answers to the universe.
Kenna keeps staring at Steel with those otherworldly eyes of hers.
Is that drool?
She hasn’t spoken a word since I joined the table. Maybe she’s mute?
Ash is the only reasonable one. The grimace on her face conveys her apologies.