Cassia grabs my arm, the same way I did to her. The same way Grace did to me a second ago.

Grace’s grip was an irritation. Cassia’s touch sears my skin like a hot brand, sending a rush of heat flooding through my veins.

I wasn’t expecting her to touch me—to stop me. Surprising me further, she rises up on her tiptoes, so she’s closer to my six feet two height. So I can read the determination in her hazel eyes.

“I’m not lying for you,” she states. “You’d better show up.”

“You’ve lied for me before,” I remind her. When we were kids—when we were close—it was a regular occurrence.

Cassia’s face hardens into an impenetrable mask. That affected her more than anything else I’ve said, it seems. “I also learned my lesson.”

She drops my arm and walks away, leaving me standing here. I head for my friends, ignoring the curious stares most of them aim my way.

Once I reach the group, we head for the double doors that lead out into the parking lot.

“What?” I ask Finn as he falls into step beside me.

He nods down the hall behind us, in the direction Cassia left, a smirk pulling up one corner of his mouth. “What was that about?”

“Nothing.”

“You finally tapping that?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Finn’s smirk grows as the rest of the group strains to hear what we’re saying. “You’re never possessive over girls.”

This. This is one of many reasons I stay away from Cassia Nolan whenever possible. Because I can’t think straight around her, and it results in predictable consequences, like me getting protective and defensive. Which, like Finn’s made it his business to point out, is not my normal behavior.

I say nothing, hoping he’ll drop it.

He doesn’t.

“She’s single, right? Maybe I’ll—”

I act, then speak. The force of my shove sends Finn shoulder first into the lockers. Everyone else looks at us, but no one asks. They’re used to me and Finn fooling around.

“Don’t,” I snarl.

And Finn, for once in his life, makes a wise decision and shuts up.

CHAPTER THREE

CASSIA

The soft patter of rain is the first sound I register, immediately followed by the sound of Sally’s screaming. My youngest sibling at age four, is also the loudest. Thumps sound on the other side of the wall my bed is pushed against, indicating the twins are up. A door slams down the hall.

I glance at the alarm clock. It’s set to go off in five minutes anyway.

I toss the covers off. Rub a palm over my face and run a few fingers through my tangled curls before standing and walking over to the window to pull open the curtains.