Chapter eight

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CHAPTER EIGHT

"You did what?" Ingrid's face was priceless. The expression of horror made me press my face into the palms of my hands.
"Yes, Ingrid. Shut up about it." I grunted.
"No! Oh my God. Can I just tell you; you're such a total spaz!" she was laughing, but in a panicked, wide-eyed way. We were walking to our lockers.

"You're not funny. Now shut up." I grumbled, but her hysterical titter continued.
"Are you kidding?" she cried, flinging arms akimbo.
"Matthew Cavalier is a god, he arrives and suddenly your wires all get crossed. And the necklace? Dude, that's all you had from your mom. Birth mom, I mean. Or dad. And..." she pinwheeled both arms a little and stared at me with brown eyes opened as wide as they'd go. The look she was going for was imploring but ended up looking like she was choking. "...And it was a really huge rock. Like, dude. The shoes you could buy with it." I scowled.

The loss of the necklace killed me. Every time I moved, I couldn't feel it. I always panicked for a few seconds that I'd lost it, then remembered had.

"That stupid rock cost more than it was worth." she furrowed her brow. "But you never bought it?" I shook my head and knocked it into my locker. It was only my imagination, but I swear, my locker smelled like spicy roses. I was loosing it.

"Oh, Shitake fried mushrooms." Ingrid hissed, her form of the curse word highly comical but generally implied seriously. I followed the glare.

"Joey's back." the words came from my lips without anger. They were flat, calm and observational. He strutted like he owned- but, I guess, the only person that was a bigger king than Joey was Matthew. Already three uniform-clad cheerleaders were tripping over their heels to catch up two him and three jocks had joined his strut. Joe was back to being his kingly self and no one questioned the kin-

"Joey, stop." That voice.

Every ovary in the building stood at attention and every Y-chromosome got knocked down two pegs. Because no one could question The King. That is, no one but a God. Black jeans and a blue golf shirt had never looked sexier. The thick, dark mess of hair was ruffled; his hands had been through it. I wanted MY hands to - focus. He was marching, fists clenched in ways that made biceps bulge and dark brow furrowed. He hadn't shaved in a couple days and he was stubbly... and stubbly is very, very sexy. His boots thudded heavily as he marched over to his brother. Ingrid and I, in one synchronized movement, leaned against the lockers. I pulled my wild hair over my left shoulder and folded my arms, she cocked out a hip and put a hand on it. We settled in for the show.

Joey's friends, all fairly large creatures in their own right, suddenly backed away. I had no doubt- Matthew could crush them. His shoulders were broad and his head was held high and he was at least two inches taller than the tallest person in the hallway. It was like his powerful frame cast a huge shadow. With his overwhelming presence the room almost felt stuffy. He was big, strong, imposing. He could handle Joey's friends in a snap and I could see the anger. It boiled in his eyes. The caramel had gone dark and swirling and molten, and the hollow under his cheekbone ticked as a jaw muscle clenched and unclenched and repeated. I could almost hear his teeth grinding. The fear crawled up the base of my neck and I couldn't help but remember Matthew grab the guy and throw him through those glass doors. Matthew's sensitive and short fuse was something all of us were a little scared of.

But holy shit, he did the anger well.

"What, Matty?" Joey sounded put out when he spoke to his brother.
"You're going to do it." Mathew snarled, seemingly unaware of the staring eyes and the panting females. Three of the latter in freshmen year walked out of a classroom at that moment, very nearly stepping into the circle of open space left for the brothers. The first girl squealed to a stop with a high pitched squeak which was echoed by each of the others in turn as they collided like freshmen dominos.

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