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Holden chirps a laugh, bright and intense, which makes Coach Harris smile, but my dad isn’t amused.
“Toren over there is the superstar,” my dad says, taking another sip of his drink. “He’s the one to keep your eye on.”
“Really?”
Carson’s hand lands on my upper thigh and I nearly jolt out of my chair. The sudden, loud movement draws every eye, and I pull my leg away to cross my ankles, but like a suction cup Carson refuses to move it.
It’s shocking—mostly because Carson doesn’t touch me. He goes out of his way to avoid it usually, unless I have to be on his arm at an event. For him to touch me so brazenly, in front of Toren and Holden and my father . . . it makes something sour in my stomach. It feels like I’m part of a game and I don’t understand the rules. I stop eating, playing with my food slightly.
I want to leave. I don’t want to be here.
Eyes gazing up, I look at Toren. My anchor. The fixation point to keep the room from spinning. He’s angry; he’s always worn his anger on his sleeve—every emotion really, at least with me. I never had to guess with him.
His jaw is clenched so tightly I’m sure it will break, hands gripping his silverware though he’s not eating either. At first, he’s not looking at me; his glare is only directed at Carson. But then it turns to me, like he can feel my eyes on him.
Whatever my dad has said now, though, is enough to have Toren almost trembling. I want to step in, to help, but I don’t know how and I’m choking on the anxiety and fear of this moment.
Holden must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and tosses his napkin down.
“Wow, I’m stuffed,” he says lightheartedly. “I’m sure dessert will be incredible, Coach, but I just remembered I didn’t turn in my assignment for my economics class and if I don’t get it submitted before ten tonight, I’m screwed.”
He stands then, looking at Toren with that same smile. “Toren? Mind riding back with me?”
“Toren doesn’t need—”
“Oh, yes, he does.” Holden laughs, cutting off whatever it is my dad was going to insist on. He’s almost yelling. “Toren’s a fucking math genius and I need him.”
My heart lurches, like it’s reaching for Toren as he stands to his full height once more, stepping past everyone and toward the hallway. Holden gives a quick apologetic goodbye before following him out.
Breathing harshly, I shove my chair back and stand.
“Lillian,” my dad barks. “Sit down.”
I duck my gaze as I face him, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. I just have to—”
Turning on my heel, I sprint toward the entryway and out the door, calling for Toren as I do. My voice echoes across the manicured, snowy lawn.
Toren looks furious, eyes like melted gold as he spins toward me and shrugs out of Holden’s grip where he’s tried to hold him back.
“What are you doing out here? Go back to them.”
I shake my head. “Tor—”
“Don’t,” he says coldly, still never yelling. Not at me. An angry laugh works out of his throat, raw and haunting. “How long have I been your secret again, Little LaBlanc?”
The name hits like a slap, but I deserve it.
“Toren— Please. I-I didn’t know.”
That stops him for a moment, the features of his face sharpening, eyes glinting with something more like malice.
The words aren’t correct. My brain is spinning, everything moving too fast and yet almost sluggish as I pull for the right explanation.
“You didn’t know?” He laughs and raises his arms out. “C’mon, Lily. You didn’t know you were engaged?” Every bit of sarcasm drops as he growls out, “Don’t fucking play with me.”
“No— I mean . . . I did know. But I thought—”
What did you think, Lily? That this would all just go away?
