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As I scan each table, noting the familiar faces, I realize they don’t do anything for me. I’ve known so many of them for so long, I can’t imagine feeling anything beyond a friendly fondness for any of them. The only one who I was interested in now belongs to someone else.
I spot him because of course I do. They’re seated together. Silas and Alana. Clear across the room sitting on one side of the table, right next to each other. It’s the perfect table where everyone can see them. Like me.
Did they do that on purpose? Knowing Alana, the answer is yes. She resented the fact that Iris and I are Lancasters and would always gripe that people were drawn to us because of our last name.
Not like we can help it. And she doesn’t even know what it feels like to have people want to spend time with us only because of our last name and what we can possibly do for people.
Alana catches me staring at them and she leans in toward Silas, curling her hand around the nape of his neck before she pulls him in close, her lips settling over his. I jerk my gaze away, embarrassed to be caught, mad at myself that I let her get to me.
I keep my gaze focused on my lap for a beat, taking a deep breath before I lift my head to find someone watching me a couple of tables over.
Rhett Bennett.
His expression is sleepy, his hair mussed. As if he just rolled out of bed, threw his uniform on—not all of it, he’s not wearing his jacket or tie—and stumbled into the dining hall to eat something. His plate is full of food and there’s a small chocolate milk carton to the right of his tray.
He drinks milk. How … cute.
His white button down stretches across his chest and is tight around his biceps, showing off just how muscular he is, and I can’t help but get caught up in his stare. And when he smiles at me, this closed-lipped, one-sided curve of his mouth, my stomach dips.
I’m suddenly breathless.
“Hey, I think we should do your hair like this.” Iris’s voice tears my attention away from Rhett, her sharp elbow seemingly digging into my ribs as she jabs me to get my attention. I glance down at her phone screen, studying the image she’s showing me. “Do you like it?”
“Sure.” I return my focus to Rhett, but he’s no longer looking at me. He’s laughing at something Brooks said, the joyous sound carrying over to our table, and I wish I knew what he thought was so funny.
“You okay, Willow?” When I frown at Iris, she continues, “You seem distracted.”
“I’m excited about tonight,” I tell her.
And I mean it.
The morning goes by like usual. By the time I’m entering my English class, I’m feeling anxious. Even a little nervous? It all has to do with seeing Rhett, which might be silly, but I can’t help it.
Could I actually like him? Everything is happening so fast and maybe I’m just getting caught up in it all. He certainly seems determined to get my attention, and while I suppose he’s like that with plenty of girls, maybe I really do interest him. Or maybe not.
He can be rude sometimes. Pushy. Arrogant. But there’s something just beneath it all—like he wants to get to know me. He doesn’t seem to care about the Lancaster name either, which is downright refreshing.
I’ve arrived in English relatively early, since my last class is so close to this one, and I settle in at my desk, pulling out The Great Gatsby from my backpack and setting it on my desk, along with my notebook.
“Hey, Willow.”
I glance up to find Silas standing next to my desk, a friendly smile on his face. I fight the disappointment filling me, hoping it doesn’t show. “Hi, Silas.”
“How are you? Glad it’s Friday?”
Alana isn’t with him, which is odd. They always seem to come to this class together, but there’s no way I’m asking him where she is. “Definitely,” I say with a nod.
“Same.” He shifts his feet, briefly glancing over his shoulder before he returns his attention to me. “Look, I was hoping we could talk sometime.”
I rest my hands on top of my desk, curling them together. Us talking is probably a terrible idea. I’m sure Alana wouldn’t like it. “What is there to talk about?”
His brows draw together and he seems adorably confused. Ugh, I hate that I just mentally used the word adorable about him. “I-I thought you might want to talk about—”
“Yo, Lancaster. Looking good this morning.”
Rhett’s familiar voice washes over me, making butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I look to my left to see Rhett standing on the other side of my desk, a fierce expression on his face that is the complete opposite of his friendly tone.
“Hi, Rhett. And, um, thank you.” I smile at him, noting that he’s wearing his uniform jacket, but his tie is still missing.
