Spark
Page 47
Simon took a deep breath and his shoulders loosened. Then he held out a hand and mimed a phone.
Gabriel patted his pockets, but he must have left his phone in his bag. “Chris, give him your phone.”
Chris did. Simon tapped out a text.
Thanks.
Chris glanced up. “I hate guys like that.”
Simon tapped a few more letters on the screen and handed the phone back to Chris.
Me too.
Gabriel pointed toward the showers. “If you want to go scrub at it, I’ll loan you a shirt when you’re done.”
Simon nodded and turned to walk then stopped short. He took the phone again and typed out another line.
Don’t tell Layne.
Gabriel stared at the words, then glanced up at Simon, who was watching him with pleading eyes.
“All right,” he said.
When Simon was safely in the shower, Gabriel dug through his bag for an extra shirt for Simon and a pair of socks for himself. Chris had followed him back to the bench and now just sat there watching him.
Gabriel sighed.
“You know,” said Chris, “that’s probably not going to come off with soap and water.”
Gabriel didn’t look at him. “That antiseptic crap in there will practically take your skin off, so maybe . . .” He shrugged. At least it was Friday, and JV wouldn’t practice again until Monday. Simon wouldn’t have to shower with the rest of the team until then.
And hopefully the words would have faded.
“Ryan Stacey is in my English class,” said Chris. “He’s an ass**le.”
“I got that, thanks. He pulls this again, I’m going to light him on fire.”
No response, but Gabriel could feel his brother watching him.
“Damn it, Chris. What?” He looked up. “What are you even doing here?”
“Wow. No ‘Thanks, Chris, for saving my ass ’”
“You did not save my ass.”
“Yeah, well, I probably saved you from a suspension. You think Mike’s on your case now ”
Gabriel glared at him. “I think you need to stay out of it.”
Chris didn’t back down, but then he wasn’t that type. “What happened with Nick?”
Gabriel looked back at his bag. The worst part was, he had no idea what had happened with Nick. He couldn’t even remember why he’d picked that fight.
“You know,” said Chris, “I had to listen to a raft of crap from Becca about the things you said to Quinn, but I know you ”
“Boo-hoo.” Gabriel yanked the zipper closed. “I’m sorry I interfered in your love life.”
Chris sighed and shrugged his backpack onto his shoulder.
“All right. Forget it. Sorry for caring.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”
“Not anymore.” Chris rounded the bank of lockers.
Gabriel wanted to punch something.
Maybe he could go find Ryan Stacey.
But then Chris reappeared. He threw a glance at the wall that separated the lockers from the shower room. “Who’s his sister?”
Gabriel looked back in his bag and kept his voice nonchalant.
“Just a girl in my math class.”
“Just a girl, huh?”
Gabriel glared at him. “Just a girl.”
Chris smiled. “So was Becca.”
Layne sat at her desk, waiting for class to begin. She’d started working through the problems at the end of the next unit, desperate for something that would make her look busy.
Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t think about numbers. It was all too content to replay the feel of Gabriel’s hands at her waist. His breath against her hair. He wasn’t even sitting beside her yet, and her mind was already scripting PG-13 fantasies.
No, probably just PG. She’d never even kissed a boy, much less anything else.
Thank god she’d been wearing that jacket.
And he’d pushed her away, anyway. She might as well scrap the fantasies.
Layne knew the instant he walked into the room. She could feel his eyes find her, so she kept her own on the paper.
Write. Look busy.
But out of the corner of her eye, she watched him drop a piece of paper in the homework basket.
He’d done it. Had he found someone else to help him cheat?
Someone snickered to her left. “Working ahead, lesbo?”
Taylor, sitting backward on her desk, probably waiting for Gabriel. Layne sighed and ignored her.
“You know,” said Taylor, “maybe if you spent five minutes looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a loser nerd.”
Layne looked up. “Maybe if you spent five minutes less looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a prostitute.”
Half the class caught its breath. Layne could hear it, the anticipation, the eagerness for Taylor to snap.
Part of her wanted to suck the words back, to reverse time ten seconds.
The other part wanted to finish up the comment by stabbing Taylor with her pencil.
“Aw,” said Taylor, giving her a mock pout. “You’re jealous.
So sweet.”
“I’m not jealous of you.”
Gabriel stepped through the tension to drop into his seat. He still looked tired. If anything, he looked more drawn than he had at six o’clock this morning. He’d showered and changed at some point, but he’d never bothered to find a razor. It made him look immeasurably rakish and sexy and overwhelmingly sad, too.
He didn’t even glance at Layne.
Gabriel patted his pockets, but he must have left his phone in his bag. “Chris, give him your phone.”
Chris did. Simon tapped out a text.
Thanks.
Chris glanced up. “I hate guys like that.”
Simon tapped a few more letters on the screen and handed the phone back to Chris.
Me too.
Gabriel pointed toward the showers. “If you want to go scrub at it, I’ll loan you a shirt when you’re done.”
Simon nodded and turned to walk then stopped short. He took the phone again and typed out another line.
Don’t tell Layne.
Gabriel stared at the words, then glanced up at Simon, who was watching him with pleading eyes.
“All right,” he said.
When Simon was safely in the shower, Gabriel dug through his bag for an extra shirt for Simon and a pair of socks for himself. Chris had followed him back to the bench and now just sat there watching him.
Gabriel sighed.
“You know,” said Chris, “that’s probably not going to come off with soap and water.”
Gabriel didn’t look at him. “That antiseptic crap in there will practically take your skin off, so maybe . . .” He shrugged. At least it was Friday, and JV wouldn’t practice again until Monday. Simon wouldn’t have to shower with the rest of the team until then.
And hopefully the words would have faded.
“Ryan Stacey is in my English class,” said Chris. “He’s an ass**le.”
“I got that, thanks. He pulls this again, I’m going to light him on fire.”
No response, but Gabriel could feel his brother watching him.
“Damn it, Chris. What?” He looked up. “What are you even doing here?”
“Wow. No ‘Thanks, Chris, for saving my ass ’”
“You did not save my ass.”
“Yeah, well, I probably saved you from a suspension. You think Mike’s on your case now ”
Gabriel glared at him. “I think you need to stay out of it.”
Chris didn’t back down, but then he wasn’t that type. “What happened with Nick?”
Gabriel looked back at his bag. The worst part was, he had no idea what had happened with Nick. He couldn’t even remember why he’d picked that fight.
“You know,” said Chris, “I had to listen to a raft of crap from Becca about the things you said to Quinn, but I know you ”
“Boo-hoo.” Gabriel yanked the zipper closed. “I’m sorry I interfered in your love life.”
Chris sighed and shrugged his backpack onto his shoulder.
“All right. Forget it. Sorry for caring.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”
“Not anymore.” Chris rounded the bank of lockers.
Gabriel wanted to punch something.
Maybe he could go find Ryan Stacey.
But then Chris reappeared. He threw a glance at the wall that separated the lockers from the shower room. “Who’s his sister?”
Gabriel looked back in his bag and kept his voice nonchalant.
“Just a girl in my math class.”
“Just a girl, huh?”
Gabriel glared at him. “Just a girl.”
Chris smiled. “So was Becca.”
Layne sat at her desk, waiting for class to begin. She’d started working through the problems at the end of the next unit, desperate for something that would make her look busy.
Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t think about numbers. It was all too content to replay the feel of Gabriel’s hands at her waist. His breath against her hair. He wasn’t even sitting beside her yet, and her mind was already scripting PG-13 fantasies.
No, probably just PG. She’d never even kissed a boy, much less anything else.
Thank god she’d been wearing that jacket.
And he’d pushed her away, anyway. She might as well scrap the fantasies.
Layne knew the instant he walked into the room. She could feel his eyes find her, so she kept her own on the paper.
Write. Look busy.
But out of the corner of her eye, she watched him drop a piece of paper in the homework basket.
He’d done it. Had he found someone else to help him cheat?
Someone snickered to her left. “Working ahead, lesbo?”
Taylor, sitting backward on her desk, probably waiting for Gabriel. Layne sighed and ignored her.
“You know,” said Taylor, “maybe if you spent five minutes looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a loser nerd.”
Layne looked up. “Maybe if you spent five minutes less looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a prostitute.”
Half the class caught its breath. Layne could hear it, the anticipation, the eagerness for Taylor to snap.
Part of her wanted to suck the words back, to reverse time ten seconds.
The other part wanted to finish up the comment by stabbing Taylor with her pencil.
“Aw,” said Taylor, giving her a mock pout. “You’re jealous.
So sweet.”
“I’m not jealous of you.”
Gabriel stepped through the tension to drop into his seat. He still looked tired. If anything, he looked more drawn than he had at six o’clock this morning. He’d showered and changed at some point, but he’d never bothered to find a razor. It made him look immeasurably rakish and sexy and overwhelmingly sad, too.
He didn’t even glance at Layne.
