Crave (Harlequin Teen) Read Free Page B

me. “He’s nothing more than a glorified spoiled rich kid.”
    “That’s not true. And he doesn’t need to try and make himself look good. He already looks good. Did you see that chest? Those huge shoulders?” Michelle sighed again. “Thank you, God, for growth spurts. I swear he’s grown half a foot taller this year. And that new voice. Oh, yum.”
    “Oh, gag me,” Anne said. “I’ll bet his ego grew right along with the rest of him. He thinks every girl on the planet should be eager to drool over him. And what do you mean, ‘that new voice’? You got a class with him or something?”
    It was Michelle’s turn to blush. “No. He stops by the front office before first period on A days sometimes to talk to me and the other office aides.”
    “And I’ll bet you just love chatting him up, don’t you?” Anne glared at her.
    “Well, it…it’s the least I can do, since he saved me.”
    “Ugh, I’m gonna hurl.” Anne gathered up her books.
    “Me, too. I can’t believe you talk to a Clann member,” Carrie said, picking up her things despite her still half-full salad bowl. “Especially one who thinks he owns all of East Texas.”
    I stared down at my untouched chili cheese fries. My comfort food looked anything but comforting today. “I think I’m done, too.”
    “Aw, guys. Don’t be mad.” Michelle jumped up and grabbed her stuff. “Y’all are way too hard on him. He’s really very nice once you get to know him.”
    “Puh-lease.” Anne proceeded to explain the difference between being nice and being a total player as we all headed for the trash cans then the rear exit. I followed but tuned them out, tired of hearing about Tristan Coleman’s infamous reputation with the girls. But my traitorous gaze still slipped over to the Clann kids’ table long enough to see that the prince of Jacksonville needed another haircut. Tristan’s golden curls had grown long enough to brush the collar of his polo shirt again.
     
    Later that afternoon before fourth period, the foot traffic streamed around me like a human river flowing through the main hallway. I sighed, tired and achy and cranky, trying to ignore the claustrophobic feeling from the swarm of people all around me while I squatted in front of my bottom-row locker. I still hadn’t gotten used to how many students were packed into this campus every day. The junior high had only three grades and much bigger hallways, so when someone had bumped into me there last year, it had been a personal message. Here, students nudged against me every couple seconds as I struggled to find a pencil inside the chaos of my locker for my last class. Stupid algebra. It was my toughest subject, and the only class that required a pencil.
    It was also the only one I had with any Clann members. And with the worst one of them all, too.
    Thank goodness at least Anne was in the same class. She was a genius at anything to do with numbers.
    She wasn’t great at waiting for me, though.
    “Hey, slowpoke, you’re gonna be late. As usual.” Anne leaned against the lockers next to mine and gave me a friendly punch on the shoulder, hard enough to make me wobble. I righted myself and winced, guessing I’d probably have a bruise on my shoulder for a day or two.
    “And what does a female jock care about being late to class?” I teased while I wearily continued to dig through books and supplies. Where the heck had that pack of pencils gone? If I had to borrow a pencil from Anne, I’d never hear the end of it. She’d use loaning me a pencil as an excuse to launch yet another tirade about how I needed to get organized.
    She snorted and squatted down beside me. “Obvious answer. If volleyball doesn’t pan out for a scholarship, the grades will have to do it for me instead. Harvard costs a butt load, or haven’t you heard?”
    “I still don’t understand why you need to go to Harvard just to become a CPA. Can’t you go to any college to do that?”
    “And I still don’t