Page 33 of Lucky 14

“So what’s the deal with your hair, ice queen?”

I frown. I’ve considered dying the rest of my hair silvery blond so people stop asking me about it. I would just dye the strip, but for some reason, it won’t hold color for very long. People think that just because I look slightly different, it gives them the right to comment on my body. It’s constant.

Connor’s tone changes, and he stops throwing the Peep up and down. “Oh shit, my bad. I just…I like it.”

“It’s vitiligo,” I say. “It’s genetic. No, it’s not harmful. No, I don’t have it anywhere else. No, you can’t touch it.”

Suddenly, a Peep hits me in the face, and Connor snickers. “Eat that, grumpy. Get your sugar up.” His voice softens. “Do people really ask you that?”

“Yeah.” I frown, squishing the peep between my fingers.

“Fucking weirdos.”

We sit together in silence, and it’s not awkward. It’s more…companionable.

“Do you punch them in the face when they ask?”

I snort out a breath through my nose.

“I’m serious. I’ll do it for you.” Connor straightens. “I’ll get a streak of white too, and every time someone asks to touch it, I’ll punch them in your honor.”

This time, I laugh. “You’re being dumb.”

“No, they are.” Connor leans back. “I’m doing it. You can’t stop me.”

I shake my head.

Lower, Connor whispers, “Then when your supervisors plant the tracker under my skin, I’ll already have the secret mark.”

I throw a pillow at his head.

A few days later, I’m shoving all my cheer stuff into my bag. My hair is sweaty, my bra is sticking to my skin, and I just want to go home. To go home and text Connor about his newest argument: whether dragons actually existed, and if they did, would they be considered a dinosaur?

I kick myself, but I can’t stop the warm glow in my chest when I think of him. I know this is a dangerous path to go down. Starting with the bitch squad that left the locker room a few minutes before I did. I always go in as late as I can to avoid them.

As I’m getting ready to leave, I hear a raised voice in the hallway. It’s deep and angry and…familiar?

I rush to the door, pushing it open to see Connor in the hallway. But it’s not just him. It’s Connor and the whole bitch squad. Connor is facing away from me, staring Harley down. His neck is red, and I watch him cock his head. “If you touch her again, I’ll make sure that’s the last thing those hands touch.”

“Connor, I…” Harley splutters, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Understand?” This version of Connor I recognize from our training. Firm, angry, and powerful.

Is he…protecting me? Goosebumps run up and down my arms.

Harley’s gaze flickers over to me, and for a second, her eyes flare in anger. She turns back to Connor. “I get it. What the fuck ever.”

The girls disperse down the hall, and Connor watches them go. As he starts to turn to the bathroom, I duck and shut the door. My heart races, and I feel…warm.

Connor just stood up for me?

I stand by the door, wondering if he saw me. Wondering if he’s going to call me out.

But he doesn’t. The next text I get from him is:

Connor: If Pegasuses existed, would that make them dinosaurs, too?

A few days later, Connor shows up at school with a white-blond streak in his hair, exactly the same place mine is. It makes me want to both hit him and cry. This feels too good to be true. Connor is perfect, and I’ve already been planning how to get him away from his family. He can come stay with me, and then when we graduate, we can move in together. Live a quiet little life, maybe take some karate lessons, get a dog…