Pasting on a smile, Sam’s gaze fixes on me. Her voice seems demure when she asks, “Rowan, why haven’t I heard from you or your team about being chosen? Time is almost up.”
I don’t acknowledge her and refocus on what Liam is saying. “You ready for the game this weekend? We’re supposed to be playing Dixon, and I hear they have a new QB that has a lethal arm and can run it in.”
“Rowan.” Sam tries to gain my attention again.
I’m unsure how many ways I can get her to understand. No one questions me or tries to force my hand, ever. If she were going to be picked, she wouldn’t find out until the actual selection announcements anyway. So, why she’s even engaging me on this topic makes little to no sense.
The next time I refocus on the table, August and the guys discuss Emma. Why they would be discussing that piece of trash is beyond me, but it only serves to add water to the proverbial grease fire.
A shrill tone suffocates the atmosphere, killing whatever good vibes we had.
“Rowan!” Sam hisses out my name, making Summer’s shoulders recoil. She already knows this isn’t going to end well. Deafening silence thrums through the cafeteria. The rabid crowd smells blood in the water, and all traces of conversations have ended. They’re all waiting to see the spat one of their kings and self-dubbed queen are about to have.
Rising from her perch, angling herself in front of me, Sam demands, “Rowan, do you not hear me speaking to you? Why the fuck have I not been chosen yet?”
The whispered calm of Karl’s voice is a stark contrast to the violence radiating from his every pore. “Samantha. Why don’t you take your self-aggrandizing somewhere the fuck else? You already know how this works. Stop making a spectacle of yourself.” If Sam were smart, she’d heed the warning in his words.
However, to ensure his point is understood, I stand, my molten brown eyes boring down on her, and say, “So, in other words, Get. The fuck. Away. From our table!”
Then I lean down, growling in her ear, “Stop making a fucking scene. You won’t like the outcome if you continue down this path.” Finished with her bullshit, I sit back down, returning to our original discussion, officially dismissing her.
But in true Samantha fashion, she has to get the last word.
“You listen, and you listen good, Rowan. If I don’t hear from you soon, there will be hell to pay!” Then, she turns on her overpriced heels and storms out of the cafe.
Liam goes to open his mouth, but I speak first, “I don’t want to hear it. I already know what you’re all going to say. It’s too late now, though. We need to move accordingly.”
With that, the cafeteria returns to the chattering, and I’m sure it’s about the scene that just took place.
As if tripped by an internal alarm, my head turns as the doors to the cafe open again, and the object of my reluctant obsession and bane of my existence walks in the door.
Emma Elaine Bishop is the cause of this madness, and I need to get her to leave before she makes my world implode.
* * *
“What do you know?”
“She’s coming up as clean, but it all feels too neat, Rowan,” Liam explains, not looking up from his screen.
We’re sitting in Computer Engineering discussing the blue-haired curvy hellion that’s been haunting my dreams when she isn’t being a living nightmare.
“What do you mean she’s coming up clean?” I ask, clenching and unclosing my fists, causing the veins in my forearm to raise and retract. “I thought you said you’d found something? That’s the whole point of this conversation. You sent me a text saying you did.”
Pulling his hair from the bun and running his fingers through the wavy brown strands- his tell. He’s frustrated.
“It was nothing,” he sighs, exasperated. “I thought it was something about her dad when he was younger, but there’s nothing. His file is so sealed that every digital version of it only says Code: AB1627233673-20 and nothing else. There’s nothing about his missions, deployments, or enlistment date,” he mutters, finally looking up from his computer.
I tip my head back and stare up at the painted ceiling. Why would anything surrounding Emma’s existence in this town be simple to unravel? Instead of peeling back layers of the onion. I feel as though it’s had the reverse effect.
“So, what does this all mean?” The headache that started after Sam’s outburst in the cafeteria turns from a dull ache to a hammering throb. I’m ready for this day to be over. Shit, I’m prepared for this whole process to be over.
“It means that she still comes up clean, but her father is an unknown. He really did go missing over two years ago. However, the circumstances surrounding his disappearance are sketchy,” he mutters, yanking his hair back into a lopsided bun before he continues. “For now, we continue to keep an eye on her.”
I nod. “Agreed. What about the two fucksticks?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about them. The selection will take care of it, and they’ll have no choice but to leave her alone,” he states.
Shutting his laptop, he levels a glare at me and adds, “You just better pray our plan not to pick Davenport doesn’t blow up in our faces.”
“I wish you guys would cut it with the Samantha shit. I said I have it, and I mean I fucking have it,” I growl, ending the conversation by turning my focus back on the front of the room.
“Say whatever you want, Rowan, but the sooner you get the information on Sam’s dad, the better it will be for all of us,” he snaps back.
Sam isn’t our fucking problem. The blue hair cock tease is the problem. One I personally intend to deal with.
EMMA
Shay and I walk toward her locker, grabbing her things before we separate for our last-period class. Murmurs circulate about the scene we missed at lunch between the elites.
I’m glad we missed it. Sam has grated on the last bit of nerves I have left. So, the less I have to interact with that bunch, the better.
“I can’t believe we missed it. I would’ve loved seeing the look on Rowan and Sam’s faces as they tried to one-up each other.” Shay, of course, feels differently, and I roll my eyes, chuckling.
“Shay, seriously, why on earth would we need to see the train wreck that are those two?” I ask her.
Beaming a full-toothed grin, she replies, “Come on, Ry, any moment where Samantha Davenport is embarrassing herself is a great day for humankind!”
“Touch?, my good friend touch?.” We both giggle as we reach her locker.
I’m still unsure about all of the details, but I know it had something to do with Sam yelling about something to do with not being selected, whatever the hell that’s about. I can’t seem to bring myself to care enough to find out more.
A buzz vibrates my back pocket, drawing my attention from Shay opening her locker. Reaching around, I pull out my cell and see a text from August.
Sneaky Devil ??: You look good over there, but you’d look better over here.
My head snaps around, looking up and down the hallway but not seeing where the hell he could be watching me from.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.