Free Languish by Alyxandra Harvey

because there was nothing else to do in the bustling metropolis of Rowan, population 8,011. In winter we drove up and down Main Street, and in nicer weather we stood around the parking lot. It was October, and even though the sun had just set, the pavement was still warm and slightly soft under our shoes. I’d already eaten more ice cream during this drought than in the last ten years put together.
    â€œYou don’t count,” Jo told him. “You know what I mean,” she added, patting his shoulder comfortingly. “You’d be hot if I didn’t know you. And if I hadn’t seen you stuff eight Ping-Pong balls in your mouth when you were ten and then spit all over me when you choked.”
    He just leaned back against the picnic table, his dark skin gleaming. “Halloween dance last year,” was all he said.
    Jo narrowed her eyes at him. “Shut up.”
    The stunning and epic failure of her costume was still talked about. I turned red just thinking about it. I’d have died on the spot if the whole gym had turned to stare at me like that.
    Something I was considering doing right now, actually.
    â€œDishy.” Jo smoothed back her waist-length hair as a guy I didn’t recognize crossed the parking lot toward us. People staring at her never fazed Jo; she got more upset when they ignored her. I much,
much
preferred being ignored.
    â€œI’d snog that.” Jo loved anything British, especially slang, which she used incessantly but incorrectly about half the time. Mostly, she used the swear words.
    â€œDo you even know what that means?” Devin asked.
    â€œIt means kissing.”
    â€œThen
say
kissing.”
    The guy was still coming toward us as they bickered. He ignored the girls preening in his wake, and the guys snickering. His eyes were the color of moss, an eerie pale green that I could see even from several feet away. His gaze was touching me all over, like rain. He looked awed. That would have been disconcerting enough, never mind that he was wearing brown leather pants and some kind of gold-embroidered tunic. There was even a sword hanging from his belt. He looked like he belonged under torchlight, not streetlight.
    And, did I mention? He totally kneeled on the dirty pavement, right at my feet.
    â€œMy lady Eloise,” he said in a voice just made for long summer nights and acoustic guitars. “Finally, you are undressed to our eyes.”
    â€œWhoa.” I took a big step backward. “What?”
    Jo was trying so hard not to laugh at the look on my face that I thought ice cream was going to come out of her nose, which would serve her right. Everyone around us turned to watch. Some of the girls even edged closer, especially Bianca. She loved nothing more than watching me squirm, all because two years ago Graham defended me when she laughed at me for getting a volleyball to the face in phys ed. She loved Graham. She hated me. Since she’d been the one to throw the volleyball, I wasn’t too fond of her either.
    â€œCome,” he said to me with polite formality at odds withthe scars on his hands. He didn’t even glance at Jo. “We must away, before the others find you.”
    I knew I was blushing that special shade of red that makes me look like a boiled beet. Nothing like being a pale, freckled girl who embarrasses easily. “Get
up
.”
    He got to his feet, graceful as water. His hair was dark blond, catching the light. His eyes blazed.
    I took another step back. “Um, okay.”
    Devin scowled at him. “What’s with the outfit?”
    â€œIs it some sort of theater thing?” Jo asked. “Extra credit for drama? Who are you supposed to be, King Arthur?”
    He didn’t glance away from me, not even for a moment. I squirmed. Everyone was still looking at us. The whispers crested, like ocean waves. “You must come with me,” he said urgently. “Please. If I have found you, the others