every enigma to which I wanted the answer to.
Then, a gust of wind so nasty it shot needles into my cheek cut my thoughts short. I buried my head into Jude’s chest, cursing the weather under my breath.
“Didn’t you check the weather report?” Jude hollered over the wind.
I laughed. “Does it look like I did?” I was wearing cutoffs, sandals, and a shelf bra cami. A white shelf bra cami . . .
“Good thing I did,” Jude said next to me as an old blanket parachuted around me.
I sighed relief and embarrassment at the same time. I’d been so freaking cold I hadn’t had enough brain cells working to remember I was wearing white in a torrential downpour. Now all the wide grins around me of my male classmates made sense.
“Thank you,” I sighed, snuggling under his arm again as he turned me into a blanketed mummy.
“I could say the same,” he replied, giving me an ear to ear grin.
I elbowed him, weaving out of his embrace. However, the weaving didn’t work; he only held me tighter.
“I’m kidding, Luce,” he said, through his laughter. “But come on, you’re surrounded by a bunch of jerk-offs that have one thing on their minds at all times. Having an eyeful of you like that,” he said, eyeing below my neck, “is not good for our hearts or hormones.”
I don’t know if I’d ever achieved the level of red my face was at present. “And by jerk-offs, are you including or excluding yourself in that category?”
“After seeing you like that,” he said, droplets of water running down his face from his saturated beanie, “definitely including myself in the jerk-off category.”
I tried elbowing through the blanket, but he’d bound me up so tight I couldn’t move. I was powerless beside him.
“Isn’t royalty supposed to be down front?”
I scowled down to where eight guys and seven girls sat in saggy crepe paper decorated chairs, wearing crowns and holding wands or batons or something atrocious. When Taylor had come bouncing up to me after second to announce I’d been voted one of the two homecoming queens for the senior class, I wasn’t sure if shock or mortification was my first response. First, because I was all but certain Jude had threatened loss of limb to everyone who didn’t vote for me, and second, because I was anti all forms of voting the popular kids more popular. Homecoming royalty, prom king and queen, ASB, best looking, most likely to succeed . . . cue the finger in the mouth now. Those types of titles never went to anyone other than the top tier populars whose parents and grandparents and their ancestors had worn the same titles before them.
That was, up until today. I wasn’t a popular and, given my whole opinion on the matter, having that ridiculous crown on my head and wand thingy stuffed in my back pocket just felt wrong.
“I know you had something to do with this, Jude Ryder.” I turned my most powerful glare on him. “And don’t expect this to be something I forgive and forget.”
He was fighting a losing battle to keep his smile contained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t help it if Southpointe High has elected you their newest ‘it’ girl.”
I was tempted to tear the crown off and break it in two in front of him when Taylor waved back at me, her own crown proudly sparkling on top of her wet poodle hairdo.
“Hey, Pinocchio,” I said, inspecting his face. “Your nose just grew like five inches.”
“Whatever, princess.”
Turning an impressive glower on him, the crowd showered another string of curses and garbage down on the field. Then, whether someone with poor aim—or dead on accuracy—behind us threw a half empty bottle of orange soda, it cartwheeled right into my temple.
It surprised me more than anything, but Jude’s face did the Mr. Hyde thing. Veins were already bulging when he spun around on the bleacher, glaring up and down the bleachers before his eyes latched onto someone.
“Hey, asshole!” he hollered, shoving
Then, a gust of wind so nasty it shot needles into my cheek cut my thoughts short. I buried my head into Jude’s chest, cursing the weather under my breath.
“Didn’t you check the weather report?” Jude hollered over the wind.
I laughed. “Does it look like I did?” I was wearing cutoffs, sandals, and a shelf bra cami. A white shelf bra cami . . .
“Good thing I did,” Jude said next to me as an old blanket parachuted around me.
I sighed relief and embarrassment at the same time. I’d been so freaking cold I hadn’t had enough brain cells working to remember I was wearing white in a torrential downpour. Now all the wide grins around me of my male classmates made sense.
“Thank you,” I sighed, snuggling under his arm again as he turned me into a blanketed mummy.
“I could say the same,” he replied, giving me an ear to ear grin.
I elbowed him, weaving out of his embrace. However, the weaving didn’t work; he only held me tighter.
“I’m kidding, Luce,” he said, through his laughter. “But come on, you’re surrounded by a bunch of jerk-offs that have one thing on their minds at all times. Having an eyeful of you like that,” he said, eyeing below my neck, “is not good for our hearts or hormones.”
I don’t know if I’d ever achieved the level of red my face was at present. “And by jerk-offs, are you including or excluding yourself in that category?”
“After seeing you like that,” he said, droplets of water running down his face from his saturated beanie, “definitely including myself in the jerk-off category.”
I tried elbowing through the blanket, but he’d bound me up so tight I couldn’t move. I was powerless beside him.
“Isn’t royalty supposed to be down front?”
I scowled down to where eight guys and seven girls sat in saggy crepe paper decorated chairs, wearing crowns and holding wands or batons or something atrocious. When Taylor had come bouncing up to me after second to announce I’d been voted one of the two homecoming queens for the senior class, I wasn’t sure if shock or mortification was my first response. First, because I was all but certain Jude had threatened loss of limb to everyone who didn’t vote for me, and second, because I was anti all forms of voting the popular kids more popular. Homecoming royalty, prom king and queen, ASB, best looking, most likely to succeed . . . cue the finger in the mouth now. Those types of titles never went to anyone other than the top tier populars whose parents and grandparents and their ancestors had worn the same titles before them.
That was, up until today. I wasn’t a popular and, given my whole opinion on the matter, having that ridiculous crown on my head and wand thingy stuffed in my back pocket just felt wrong.
“I know you had something to do with this, Jude Ryder.” I turned my most powerful glare on him. “And don’t expect this to be something I forgive and forget.”
He was fighting a losing battle to keep his smile contained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t help it if Southpointe High has elected you their newest ‘it’ girl.”
I was tempted to tear the crown off and break it in two in front of him when Taylor waved back at me, her own crown proudly sparkling on top of her wet poodle hairdo.
“Hey, Pinocchio,” I said, inspecting his face. “Your nose just grew like five inches.”
“Whatever, princess.”
Turning an impressive glower on him, the crowd showered another string of curses and garbage down on the field. Then, whether someone with poor aim—or dead on accuracy—behind us threw a half empty bottle of orange soda, it cartwheeled right into my temple.
It surprised me more than anything, but Jude’s face did the Mr. Hyde thing. Veins were already bulging when he spun around on the bleacher, glaring up and down the bleachers before his eyes latched onto someone.
“Hey, asshole!” he hollered, shoving
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