After my last class of the morning, instead of finding Natalie or doing what the Order would expect of me, I go in search of Anora. The tug in my chest is a reminder that she’s here, and the need to see her is a clawing, almost desperate thing. There are too many questions spinning through my head, and Anora seems to be at the heart of all of them.

Chapter Nine

Anora and Detention

Lunch begins differently today—no Lennon or horde of zombie students. Instead, I stop by my locker to exchange books and head for detention.

“Hey.” Shy’s voice startles me, and I drop my books. I attempt to avoid eye contact as I kneel to get them and shove them in my bag, but Shy stoops to my level and helps. I glance at him and find he’s watching me. “Sorry to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me.”

Lie. He scares me, but not for the reason he thinks.

As I stand, I hit my head on my locker door. The pain is jarring and brings tears to my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Shy moves toward me but falls back, as if unsure what he meant to do. I’m unsure of what he meant to do too.

“Fine,” I say between my teeth and slam my locker door shut.

“Do you need me to get an ice pack?”

“I said I’m fine,” I say with a little more force than I intend, but Shy doesn’t push. I press shaky fingers to the sensitive spot on my head—they come away clean, no blood. Shy still stands in my peripheral, hands in his pockets, staring.

“So…do you want to have lunch today? I thought maybe we could sneak off campus or something.”

I gape at him, surprised by his suggestion. It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him head-on since he approached, and it’s a mistake. When my eyes meet his, I can’t stop my brain from short-circuiting. This boy is teenage heartthrob handsome. His hair is messier today, like maybe he ran out of time getting ready this morning, except instead of looking like a complete slob, he somehow looks…sexier.

God, I hate this reaction to him. This has never happened to me before.

“Are you asking the right person?”

That makes him chuckle, but the humor doesn’t touch his eyes. “You are Anora Silby, right? No one walked in and stole your soul?”

Those words make me shiver.

“I can’t. I have detention.” Then, because I feel like I need to offer an explanation, I say, “I was late to trig.”

Shy frowns. “Didn’t I warn you? Mr. Val…?”

“Is a prick? You did.” So did Thane. Seems everyone is in agreement.

He smiles again, almost sadly, disappointment evident in those eyes, as vivid as morning light breaking through a dark horizon. “Maybe tomorrow, then?”