Free Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites by Tes Hilaire Page B

fingers frantically flew over the touch-screen of her iPhone causing mine to vibrate again: Don’t B a doof.
    I rolled my eyes, painfully and slowly texting her back. How do I tell if hot, if cant look?
    Can’t look. He’s looking @ U!
    I swiveled my head around. Of course I had to look now. We Harpers were the epitome of obstinate. Or maybe that’s senseless. Hmm. Didn’t know and didn’t care, I still had to look.
    Across from me Carrie groaned. “You are such a dweeb. That’s not how you play it cool.”
    Yeah. And Carrie knew all about cool. Not. This was the girl who, last summer, picked the state-of-the-art computer over an all-expense-paid-trip to Europe that her absent CEO dad offered as a forgive-me-for-divorcing-your-mom bribe.
    My gaze landed on the guy leaning against one of the tiled pillars behind us. Holy crap. Carrie was right, on both accounts: he was totally eye candy and he was so looking at me. Which was totally weird, I mean, why would a guy like that be looking at me? I was shy, skinny, short and he, well, was not. His head topped the blue swath of tiles that I knew for a fact were a good foot over my own short five-foot-two height. His pose was casual confident. Well-muscled arms folded across his black t-shirt clad chest. A really nice chest, with broad shoulders that leaned down into the trim cut of his vintage jeans.
    A runner, maybe, or basketball. I didn’t peg him for football, but basketball was big around here and would lend to that kind of tall, lean build. Yet I couldn’t see him as being from any of the nearby school districts. If he was on one of the athletic teams that Flagstaff High went up against, I should have recognized him. I’d certainly gone to enough games while crushing over Kyle. I was still smarting over that. Practically a year wasted sitting in the stands going all dewy-eyed over the Flagstaff’s star player.
    Never again.
    I tried to drag my gaze away, but couldn’t seem to take my eyes off Mr. Candy. There was something about him, something I thought I should recognize. I still didn’t think I’d seen him at any of the athletic gatherings, but maybe I’d seen him somewhere else. It might not even have had anything to do with high school. This guy looked old enough to maybe even be in college. He also had that dark brooding thing going for him; the dark hair that skimmed his well-defined jaw line, the heavy brow that shadowed his eyes.
    Eyes that were currently, and implausibly, boring into mine.
    And I still couldn’t look away. Something about his gaze held me pinned like a butterfly in a display frame. Which is what I probably looked like in my tie-dye t-shirt, high-tops, gopped on eyeliner, and frizzy hair.
    Damn dress rehearsals. And damn me for not having insisted on going home to change before letting Carrie drag me to the mall.
    I blushed, spinning forward again just as my phone vibrated. This time it was with great relief that I had something to do other than contemplate my complete and utter humiliation. I mean, yeah, he’d been staring—probably blindsided by my outfit—but I’d been staring right back and been totally enthralled by what I’d seen. I punched through the buttons, my fingers fumbling on the keys so it took me a while to pull up Carrie’s text.
    Isn’t he 2 die 4?
    Well yeah. If you meant die of a broken heart. He had untouchable written all over him. Way out of my league. You get passed up in favor of the big-boobed cheerleader enough and you learned. Carrie tended to be more optimistic than I, though, so I knew it was going to take some nipping in the bud to get her to knock it off.
    “No, what is to die for is my outfit.” I plucked at the multi-colored T. “Killer, isn’t it?”
    This received another glare and twenty seconds later, a buzz.
    U r so annoying. He’s looking right @ u!
    I snorted. “Yeah. He’s probably blindsided by all the colors.”
    She rolled her eyes, leaning urgently across the table. “Stop it.