Chapter Five

I pull my coat out of my locker and slip into it, then heft my backpack onto my shoulders. My third day of school was exactly like the first two. I’m just one of hundreds of students floating through the day, and just as with days one and two, I’m doing it alone. Well, if I don’t count Don Juan and his keeper, I realize as I spot Nicky and Will sauntering toward me. I try to hide how excited I am to see Will but settle for ducking my face when I can’t quite stifle it.

“Walk you home?” Will stops in front of me, Nicky no longer at his side but digging deep into a locker several feet away.

I want to shout yes, and then melt into a puddle at his feet, but I hold myself together and put on a stern front, determined not to be transparent in my attraction to him. “You want to walk me home?” Instead of waiting for his reply, I shut my locker and head for the exit.

He blushes a soft pink. “Yeah, you know, to make sure you get there okay or whatever.” He shrugs.

“It’s three blocks.” I’m torn between feeling flattered that he’s worried about my safety and wondering if he thinks I can’t protect myself. With as much weapons training as I’ve had, I’d probably be the one protecting us both in the face of danger.

“Well, maybe I’m scared and want you around for protection.” His grin crooks to one side, and he winks. He’s teasing me.

And it’s working. “Well, come on then. Lag behind and I’ll leave you to fend for yourself.” I pick up the pace for effect, rushing out the front doors and skipping down the large stone steps to the sidewalk. He lands on the sidewalk a moment after me, and Nicky is all but forgotten back at his locker as we turn in unison in the direction of my apartment building.

“How are you settling in?” His voice is tinged with genuine interest, and I catch myself wanting to let my guard down, to tell him exactly how much I’m not settling in, how lonely I am, how much I want to make friends but can’t shake the fear that my past will catch up with me and everything will blow up in my face.

“Okay. It’s different but good.” I think about asking him about himself, and eventually after we’ve walked hundreds of miles in silence, I manage, “Do you like living here?” Do you like me? I want to ask, but I keep that last question to myself.

“I do. Sometimes, I think it might be nice to live out in the country somewhere and have lots of fresh air and open land. My aunt and uncle have a few dozen acres upstate, and we go there to visit sometimes. It’s great, but after a week or so, I’m ready to get back to the city. Ready for corner pizza joints, my favorite coffee shop, and friends around every corner. Sure, the city is crowded—”

“And smelly,” I supply, wrinkling my nose teasingly.

“And smelly.” He chuckles. “But it’s home.”

I haven’t been here long, but I’m already starting to feel the same. The longer I’m in New York the more I see the appeal. We walk in peaceful silence the rest of the way, kind of like we did this morning.

We’re half a block from my place when Will tips slightly into a mock bow. “And this is where we part ways, flower. I’m two blocks that way.” He points down the street to his left. “Meet you here tomorrow morning?”

I don’t know why I do it, but I nod my assent. Will winks at me and turns on his heel to jog down the connecting street. I watch him go until he turns and catches me staring. Then, I head for my building without giving him a second glance.

Once I’m up in my apartment and have traded my school clothes for baggy sweats and fuzzy slippers, I settle on my window seat, determined to pick a club to join. I unfold the paper and scan the list that’s twice as long as I would have expected. There’s a bicycle club? I had no idea that was even a thing. It’s not my thing; that’s for sure.

French club? No, definitely not. I don’t need a reminder of everything I just went through and everything I’m trying to leave behind.

Book club sounds interesting, but I’m looking for something more interactive, something that isn’t a solitary sport.

I scan further down the list, past knitting club and cooking club and so many others, and settle on something I think I could get into. Photography club. Photography seems like a fairly quiet activity. One where I wouldn’t be the center of attention, could in fact hide behind the camera. I do have a little experience with photography from a reconnoitering perspective, prepping for jobs and all. And it meets tomorrow after school. That’s about as soon as soon could be.

What sort of equipment would I need for that? Where some of the clubs have supplies listed, this one doesn’t. A camera probably. Which means I’ll need to check with Mom about taking one of the “working” cameras we use for prep work on jobs. Used—past tense, I mentally correct myself. We don’t pull off heists anymore. And just that thought is enough to leave me feeling lighter. I’m suddenly looking forward to regular old photography club very much.

I fold the list and tuck it into the front pocket of my backpack. Tomorrow afternoon can’t get here fast enough.

…

As promised, Will is waiting for me at the corner when I arrive the next morning, and with two steaming cups of coffee in hand. The charmer. He holds one out to me when I’m within arm’s reach. “I didn’t know what you like”—he pauses and looks uncertainly at the cup—“or if you even like coffee.”

Until now, Will has seemed to have nerves of steel. But for the briefest of seconds, his cool facade cracks, and I see a boy trying to impress a girl. Is he really this into me, this quickly? Insta-love only happens in fiction. I don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s really into me or just trying to get in my pants, but I really hope it’s the former. Because I’m sure starting to fall for him already. Just the idea of being with him is enough to set a nervous tickle in the pit of my stomach and heat my cheeks.

I duck my head to hide my blush and take the cup he’s offering me. “Coffee’s great. Thanks.”

He watches me until I take a sip, as if he’s not quite sure he can trust that I do in fact like coffee. It’s sweeter than I like, but overall, it’s not the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted. And it certainly takes the edge off the morning chill. I take a second sip, and a third. By the time we get to school, I’m holding an empty cup.

“Whoa! This is getting serious. I’ve never seen Will walk the same girl to school twice. I think our boy’s in love, Anton.” Before we get to the front steps, Nicky bounces onto the sidewalk in front of us.

“Make a habit of walking girls to school, do you?” I keep my tone light and teasing, but deep down, I’m a little disappointed that this is something he does regularly with other girls.

Will blushes, looks down at his sneakers, and scuffs the toe of one back and forth across the pavement. “Not usually.” Then he looks up at me, charming smile back in place. “And I’ve never brought any girls coffee before.”

I place the hand not holding my empty cup against my chest and feign a swoon. “Oh, be still my heart!”

With a laugh, Will throws his empty cup at his friend, and Nicky tosses it back. Will catches it with ease and chucks it into a nearby trash can. He sets a hand on my backpack to encourage me forward, away from Nicky. “Ignore him. He’s just messing with us,” Will says as we enter the school. I expect him to drop his hand back to his side, but he doesn’t. Instead he lifts it, wraps it around my shoulders, and pulls me closer to him. “I think he’s jealous.”

I look up at him, and he winks at me.

“Yeah, probably. I am pretty awesome.” Where did that come from? I’ve never been good at banter. Unlocking a safe, yes. Flirting, not so much.

With his arm still around me, he accompanies me to my locker, then moves back to lean against the row next to me while I play musical books between my backpack and locker.

“You don’t have to wait here. I can find my way to class. Go on ahead; it’s cool, really,” I tell him.

“And miss the chance to walk into class with you on my arm? Not a chance.”

“So I’m arm candy?”

He leans in so that our faces are mere inches apart and, in the most bedroomy bedroom voice I’ve ever heard, says, “You are amazing.”

And just like that, I melt into a proverbial puddle of goo at his feet. My cheeks blaze with the heat of embarrassment, and I turn back to my locker and feign an intense interest in the contents in an effort to not let on that I’m basically putty in his hands.

The minute bell rings, saving me the embarrassment of trying to make conversation after that. I slam my locker shut and follow Will to the classroom. We step inside the room a split second before the late bell rings, and I slide into my seat while trying to avoid Mrs, Leonard’s disapproving stare. I can feel Will’s attention on me, and against my will, all of my attention is on him. It’s going to be a long class period.

…

At lunch, I do the same thing I’ve done all week. I wait by my locker for an extra few minutes until the throngs of students navigating the halls thin. Then I head for the cafeteria. With everyone already ahead of me in the food line or surrounded by their friends at their tables, hopefully I go unnoticed as I get my own lunch. Once I’m through the line, I scan the cafeteria for the most secluded empty seat. Today, it’s the far back corner near the doors leading out to the square.

I cross the room quickly with my attention zeroed in on my target: one of the empty seats at the corner table. When I sit, I do my best to melt into the chair and fade away from human sight. If there were a way to blend in with my surroundings like a chameleon, I would totally use it right now. Nothing reminds me how alone I am, or makes me feel more conspicuous, than the crowded lunchroom, practically overflowing with laughing, smiling students enjoying time with their friends.

I pull my favorite novel out of my bag, open to the page I last left off on, and prop my feet up on the chair next to me. I’ll eat my lunch with my nose buried in a book, just like I’ve done all week.

I’m still on the first page when the table jostles and a body lands in the seat on the other side of me. It’s probably just someone else looking for a secluded place to disappear to. I don’t bother looking up from my book. In my periphery, a pale hand reaches out and nabs a French fry from my tray. That gets my attention.

I lower my book and turn to face my food thief, and I’ve got a pretty good idea who it is.

“Will.” Who else would be so daring as to grab food off my plate?

“Hey there, flower. Why ya eating all alone over here?” He grabs another fry and stuffs it in his mouth.

“I’m reading.”

“Must be a good book.” Another fry gone. If he stays much longer, I’m not going to have any left.

“Don’t you have your own lunch?” I eyeball his hand as he reaches for more.

He stops mid-reach and retracts his hand. He blushes guiltily for all of two seconds, then says, “How come you sit alone at lunch?”

I shrug. I don’t want to tell him the truth, that he’s the only person here I know. “I like the silence. You should try it sometime.”

“Eating alone?”

“Silence,” I tell him with a teasing grin.

He feigns hurt with a fisted hand to his heart. “Oh, flower, how you wound me!”

I can’t hold back an audible laugh.

And the truth is, I’m not exactly bothered by him sitting with me. He isn’t the worst company a girl could have. But I also don’t know anything about him. Years of heist work have taught me to never go into a situation blind.

“So…” I start slowly. “Have you lived here all your life?”

He side-eyes me as he grabs another fry from my tray. “Here as in…the city?”

I nod and race him to a handful of fries. If I don’t keep up, he’s going to eat them all without me.

“Yep, born and raised.”

He doesn’t offer more, so I try a different tack. “Do you have a lot of family here? Any brothers or sisters?”

“Only child.”

He’s answering my questions but only just. He’s not offering anything extra. The professional in me suspects he’s doing it on purpose, but the teenage girl in me wants to believe he’s just being a teenage boy. Suspicion wins out.

“Do you have a job? What do your parents do?” Somewhere along the way, my tone has shifted into something more aggressive, less natural.

Will freezes with his hand halfway to my tray and turns in a wide move to face me. His brows are drawn, and he studies my face for a moment like he’s trying to figure me out. “My mom’s an accountant and my dad is a freelance consultant.” His tone is tight with unspoken tension, and I’m suddenly feeling very self-conscious about giving him the third degree.

I try to think of something to say to extricate us from the tense moment, but I’ve got nothing. Eventually, Will has mercy on me and says lightheartedly, “And I’m too busy being awesome to fit in a job.”

He reaches again for my food, and I playfully smack his hand away, then slide my tray a few inches from him. “Come on, man. For real! Go get your own food.”

Will sighs in resignation and pushes to his feet. With shoulders slumped and a look of pure dejection on his face, he says, “Fine. I can take a hint.” Before he ambles off toward the food line, he winks at me. “Enjoy your book. And your fries.”

For a brief moment, as I watch him go, I consider calling him back and offering him my entire lunch just to have someone to talk to. But even more distasteful than being alone is the idea that I could come across as desperate after being all weird.

Which is exactly why I’m going to photography club this afternoon. Maybe if I have a wider circle of friends, I won’t feel the urge to chase after Will and beg him to spend time with me. But some tiny part of me wonders if it’s more about Will and less about me feeling lonely. Even if that were the case, I’m not ready to face that truth. One thing at a time. I’ll start with photography club and maybe consider a crush on Will if it comes to that.