Page 15

I left it where she’d easily spot it, shut the door properly, pocketed her phone, and made my way to class, footsteps measured as I passed, while the inside of my pocket burned.

I couldn’t help the slow smile tugging at my lips as I sank into a chair at random and resisted glancing around. She was somewhere in the lecture hall, blissfully oblivious, while I tossed it and caught it, imagining how she’d react. Shout? Plead for it back? Glare like she could strangle me with her eyes?

A buzz yanked me out of it. Without meaning to, I glanced down.

My eye snagged not on the notification, but on her lock screen.

A breath punched out of me.

Of all the things composed, intellectual Mia would have as her screensaver, this was the last thing I’d ever expected: a matte-black Aprilia RSV4 with red stripes.

Fucking hell.

I stared at it until it went black, and my own unblinking reflection stared back.

The idea alone she had a side like this to her short-circuited my brain. And it wasn’t just any bike. That thing screamed freedom, rebellion, danger.

You crave the rush too, don’t you?

A bolt of adrenaline shot up the balls of my feet, locking my muscles in its path and settling in my chest, chased by something else I couldn’t name.

An image flashed through my mind: the roar of my bike under me, arms wrapped around my middle, a squeal ringing loud in my ears, one that sounded like it belonged to—

What the—

I shoved at the radioactive image, trying to shake it off. Even so, an echo remained, as if it had hooked itself somewhere deep inside me.

After class, I took up a casual, bored stance near the arched entrance, while my blood thrummed in my veins and my ears were on a swivel for one voice in particular.

Sure enough, she opened her locker, rummaged inside it, and froze. She read the note, and I caught her little frown from across the room. Her gaze swept around, until it locked on me and narrowed.

I smothered a grin with great difficulty and gave her an innocent shrug that only knotted her brows deeper. Pretending I didn’t see, I shut my locker and ambled outside.

Her hurried footsteps rang behind, until she caught up to me.

I gave her a bored “What?” and quirked a brow down at her.

Her full mouth was drawn in a tight line, and her green eyes shimmered with just the right amount of fire to make it interesting.

“Give it back!”

A furious flush had crept down her neck, stark against the white of the uniform shirt. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, like she was considering violence.

A twisted part of me purred.

“Give what back?”

My face was a careful mask of fabricated innocence.

“You know what. You’re the only absolute… douche nozzle who would do that!”

A genuinely amused chuckle escaped me despite myself.

“Douche nozzle? Really?” I scoffed, but the mirth in my tone cut through the bite. “Hold on to those creative talents. Useful for when you drop out of here.” I peered down my nose at her, lips curled into a sneer I had to shove on.

Douche nozzle. Christ.

Her jaw tightened at my jab, but she didn’t bite. Her freckled nose scrunched up in concentration as she scanned me from head to toe, as if she could see where I’d stashed it.