Stone Cold Touch

Roth caught up with me. No book bag. Just him and his stupid fries. “I’m surprised. I’ll admit it. You surprised me.”

“Really?” I let out a harsh laugh, irritated that he was shocked. “Did you think after what you said to me that I’d be happy to see you? Seriously?”

He popped a fry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, as if he really had to think about it. “Yes. I know so.”

I stopped midstep at the end of the hallway, and stared at him. “You’re delusional.”

“Wouldn’t go that far.” In went another fry.

“You have an overinflated sense of self-worth.”

He grinned. “I am very valuable, actually. Being the Crown—”

I yanked the bag out of his hand, spun around and tossed the remaining fries in the garbage. Turning back to him, I smiled widely. “That’s what I think about your valuable Crown Prince shit.”

Roth heaved a huge sigh. “I’m a growing boy and need my sustenance. I’m going to starve now and it’ll be all your fault.”

“Whatever.” I folded my arms.

He stared at me and then tipped back his head and laughed. I shivered, unprepared for the sound. I’d forgotten how deep and rich his laughter was—how contagious. The laugh quickly faded, replaced by a surprisingly morose look. “Oh, shortie, you’re already making this hard.”

“Making what hard? And don’t call me shortie.”

He shook his head. “Come on, we need to talk for real. Where we won’t be interrupted.” He started toward the faded double doors and I knew where he was heading—our stairwell. The place where we students weren’t supposed to be, where no one ever went. It led to the old gymnasium and smelled like mold, but it had been our place before.

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