Poison Princess Read Free Page B

“Faster!”
    At each gear, he redlined before shifting, until the car stretched her legs. As houses whizzed past, I laughed with delight.
    The months before were a dim memory compared to this—the sun, the wind, Brandon sliding me excited grins. He was right; this was just what I needed.
    Leave it to my teddy bear of a football player to make me feel carefree and sane again.
    And didn’t that deserve a kiss?
    Unbuckling my seat belt, I clambered up on my knees, tugging my dress up a couple of inches so I could lean over to him. I pressed my lips against the smooth-shaven skin of his cheek. “Just what the doctor ordered, Brand.”
    â€œYou know it!”
    I kissed his broad jaw, then—as my experienced best friend Melissa had instructed—I nuzzled his ear, letting him feel my breath.
    â€œAh, Evie,” he rasped. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
    I was getting an idea. I knew I played with fire, teasing him like this. He’d already been reminding me of a promise I’d made right before I left for deportment school : If we were still going out when I turned sixteen (I was a young junior), I would play my V card. My birthday was next Monday—
    â€œWhat the hell does that guy want?” he suddenly exclaimed.
    I drew my head back from Brandon, saw he was glancing past me. I darted a look back, and my stomach plummeted.
    A guy on a motorcycle had pulled up right next to us, keeping pace with the car, checking me out. His helmet had a tinted visor so I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was staring at my ass.
    First instinct? Drop my butt in the seat, willing my body to disappear into the upholstery. Second instinct? Stay where I was and glare at the pervert. This was my morning, my laughter, my fast drive in my boyfriend’s luxury sports car.
    After a summer spent in a fluorescent hell, I deserved this morning.
    When I twisted around to glare over my shoulder, I saw the guy’s helmet had dipped, attention definitely on my ass. Then he slowly raised his head, as if he was raking his gaze over every inch of me.
    It felt like hours passed before he reached my eyes. I tugged my hair off my face, and we stared at each other for so long that I wondered when he was going to run off the road.
    Then he gave me a curt nod and sped past us, expertly dodging a pothole. Two more motorcycles followed, each carrying two people. They honked and cheered, while Brandon’s face turned as red as his car.
    I consoled myself with the knowledge that I’d probably never have to see them again.

To preserve his paint job, Brand parked in the back of the Sterling High parking lot. Even among the many Mercedeses and Beamers, his car attracted attention.
    I climbed out and collected my book bag, groaning under the weight, hoping Brand would take a hint. He didn’t. So, on an already stifling morning, I would be schlepping my own stuff.
    I told myself I liked that he didn’t help me with my books. Brand was a modern man, treating me as an equal. I told myself that a lot on our long trek toward the front entrance.
    Probably just as well. I had my secret sketchbook in my bag, and I’d learned the hard way never to let it out of my possession.
    When we reached the freshly irrigated quad, someone produced a football, and Brand’s eyes locked on it like a retriever’s. Somehow he broke his trained gaze to look at me with a questioning expression.
    I sighed, smoothing my hair—frantically braided once we’d reached Sterling city limits. “Go. I’ll see you inside.”
    â€œYou’re the best, Eves.” He grinned—with dimples—his hazel eyes bright. “I figure even you can make it from here by yourself!”
    I was, in fact, directionally challenged. For someone who didn’t have a mean bone in his body, he tended to land some zingers.
    I reminded myself that Brandon had a good heart, he just genuinely didn’t know