Spark Page 32


Taylor Morrissey swung onto the desk in front of him. Low-slung jeans revealed a solid six inches of tanned midsection despite the fact that temperatures had been in the low fifties every morning. Her hair spilled over one shoulder, but it just felt like such an act.

He kept his expression uninterested. “Hey, Taylor.”

She leaned forward, until he could see clear down the V-neck of her top. “Gary Ackerman said he saw you take the bus to school. What’s up with that?”

What was up with that was Nick being an ass**le. He’d taken the car while Gabriel was in the shower.

He shrugged and looked at the doorway. Still no sign of Layne, so he dragged his eyes back to Taylor. “My brother had to get here early. I didn’t feel like it.”

He caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw Layne push through the doorway, her head down. Turtleneck, jeans, hair in a braid. She didn’t look at him.

“Your brother, huh?” said Taylor. She smirked.

He couldn’t figure out her tone and he didn’t really care. He frowned at her. “What?”

Layne slipped into the chair beside him. It took everything he had not to look at her.

Taylor shrugged one shoulder. “You’re looking kind of, you know, tired today.”

She was implying something, but he had no idea what. He probably did look tired. It went right along with being tired.

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be paragons of perfection like you, Taylor.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Layne stiffen beside him.

Hadn’t she said something similar last night? But then she was moving again, pulling things from her backpack.

Taylor leaned in, showing more of what she had to offer. Her voice was almost taunting. “Did you sleep at someone else’s house?”

Layne suddenly went very still.

Gabriel wanted to glare at her. Did Layne seriously think he’d leave her house like that, then go find some mindless girl to hook up with?

“Jesus, Taylor, scope your gossip with someone else. I was home all night.”

“Whatever you say.” She swung her legs against the desk, not at all bothered. “Did you hear about Alan Hulster?”

He glanced at the empty seat on the other side of his chair.

“What, did someone finally kick his ass?”

“No, his house burned down.”

Gabriel snapped his head around. “What?”

“Yeah, like, to the ground.” Taylor pulled a piece of gum out of her purse and rolled it across her tongue suggestively, as if this news was just a sideline to her flirtation. “His little sister was trapped. They thought she was dead, but some fireman got her out just before the whole place collapsed. That dude is a hero. Isn’t that intense? ”

Gabriel could feel his heart smacking his rib cage. He’d never thought about that house belonging to someone he knew.

Layne cleared her throat, and her voice came out small. “Is his sister okay?”

Taylor rolled her eyes and pushed her hair over one shoulder.

“I’m sorry, were you a part of this conversation?”

“God, Taylor.” Gabriel kicked the leg of her chair. It was a miracle his voice wasn’t shaking. “Is his sister okay?”

“Jeez.” Taylor frowned. “Yeah . . . I think so ”

Ms. Anderson chose that moment to slide into the room. Taylor swung around and dropped into her chair.

Gabriel couldn’t think through the six questions on the board not like it would matter. He scribbled random numbers, his mind spinning through the events of last night.

That dude is a hero.

He sure didn’t feel like it.

He’d gone there to be close to a fire. Not to save someone.

Thoughts gripped his mind so tightly that he couldn’t say a word to Layne but she had her head down over her work, anyway.

He passed his paper forward with everyone else, and he didn’t even care what he got. The substitute was lecturing, but he didn’t hear a word. His ears were full of Hunter’s words from last night.

We could do this again. Think about it.

When the bell rang, Layne bolted from her seat without looking at him.

Gabriel bolted after her, intending to catch her in the hallway.

But Ms. Anderson’s voice stopped him before he got out of the room. “Mr. Merrick, I’d like to speak with you.”

Mr. Merrick. He hated when teachers called him that, like he was an old man stopping by to learn a few math tricks.

He stopped beside her desk and glanced at the door. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t turn in last night’s homework. Or the day before.”

He shrugged his backpack higher on his shoulder and looked at the door again. “I forgot it. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“And I was reviewing the quizzes from the other day.”

That got his attention. “I thought they didn’t count.”

She leaned back in the chair. “They don’t. I was concerned about how you answered the questions.”

Who gave a crap how he answered the questions? “So?”

“Some were right, and some were wrong. I’m having a hard time with the fact that nothing was wrong the same way.”

He could hear his own breathing. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” She paused. “And in class the other day, when I called you to the board, you struggled with the formula.”

“Look, could we get to the point?”

Prev Next