(Elena's POV)
It was Wednesday, a clear sky day. The sun beat down on the school courtyard, the light warm on Elena's skin. A breeze ruffled her hair as she leaned against the wall outside the lunch tables, her fingers wrapping around a carton of juice. It was noisy with the chatter of students everywhere, kids laughing and talking as they ate, but there was something soothing about being out in the open after sitting in a classroom all morning. She had grown to like these breaks in the day, these small respites between classes. People still stared, but not as much, and not as loudly. Some of them had even started to nod when she walked by, the sharp edge of curiosity dulling into something more like guarded acceptance.
Bella had gone off to assist with a class project, so Elena leaned against the wall, alone. She let her gaze wander lazily over the courtyard, noting the soccer players tossing a ball back and forth, a gaggle of girls snapping selfies, and a pair of boys sharing fries from a grease-stained paper bag.
And then he was there.
"Hey," a voice to her left said.
Elena turned, and found herself looking up into sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes. The boy wore the Westbridge varsity jacket, but he had a quiet, easy smile where most of the other players had an air of self-importance that made them look like they were stomping all over the place.
"You're Elena, right?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes."
"I'm Marco. I sit two rows behind you in Chem." He grinned. "Though you probably never noticed."
"I might've," Elena answered with a polite smile.
Marco tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing on her. "So… what's someone like you doing all alone? Everyone's curious about you, you know."
"Curious?"
"You're like a mystery of the school," Marco said. "Rich girl from St. Claire. Crazy talented. And then suddenly you show up here? We don't get that kind of story much in Westbridge."
Elena snorted softly. "It's really not that exciting."
"I don't know. You got people talking," Marco said, leaning in a little closer. "I even heard you made Liam Reyes smile. That's a miracle."
Elena raised an eyebrow. "That's a rumor."
"Still. Pretty impressive. He doesn't even smile when he scores a goal." Marco stepped aside as two boys walked behind them. "So… want to sit together for lunch sometime?"
Before she could answer, a shadow fell over them.
Liam.
He walked up slowly, eyes focused on Marco like he was a problem that needed eradicating. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but his shoulders were stiff, and his jaw had that clenched look she'd seen before.
(Liam's POV)
He'd been walking to the vending machine when he'd seen them, Marco leaning in just a little too close, and Elena tilting her head toward him as if she was interested in what he had to say.
Something snapped in Liam's chest, tight and instant.
Marco wasn't the worst player on the team, but Liam knew his type. Smooth talker. Too many smiles. He acted like he was playing nice now, but Liam had seen the way he could turn on someone when they refused to give him what he wanted.
And Marco was looking at Elena like she was his next conquest.
Not happening. Liam slowed his steps, not hurrying, but just enough that Marco was sure to see him approach.
"Marco," Liam said, voice even, but the weight in his tone enough that it yanked Marco's attention away from her.
"Liam," Marco replied, still smiling, but the dip in his shoulders communicated something to Liam that Marco's mouth didn't. "We were just talking."
"I can see that." He didn't look at Elena yet, didn't want Marco thinking this was about her, but his eyes never left him, not until Marco shifted away half a step.
Elena caught his glance between them and Liam felt her curiosity, but he didn't give Marco the opening to take advantage of it.
Marco gave her a brief look. "Anyway, nice talking to you, Elena. Let me know about lunch."
Liam didn't miss the way Marco emphasized her name. He also didn't miss the speed with which Marco turned to leave.
He stood there, watching Marco until he disappeared into the crowd of students.
(Elena's POV)
"You didn't have to do that," Elena said, once Marco was out of earshot.
"Do what?"
"Scare him off."
"I didn't scare him. He left."
"Because of your face."
"My face looks like this all the time."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's not comforting."
Liam finally met her gaze then. Really met it, his eyes sliding slowly over her face, expression unreadable, like he was searching for proof that she was telling the truth.
"He's not your type," Liam said.
"And you know my type?"
He shrugged. "Not him."
She crossed her arms. "Well, thanks for the advice. Very helpful."
They stood in silence for a moment, the breeze ruffling her hair.
She turned, starting to walk toward the main building, and he fell into step beside her without asking.
"I don't like him," he said after a few seconds.
"You don't like a lot of people."
"True."
(Liam's POV)
He didn't like the way Marco had leaned in toward her, or the way she'd smiled—not flirtatious, but enough to make Liam's jaw clench in his throat.
He didn't even want her thinking about eating lunch with Marco. She was his. Not technically. Not yet. But in his mind, she already was. When they reached the steps, he slowed. Other students passed, their laughter loud, but he kept his attention on her.
"You're jealous," Elena said, suddenly. He blinked, keeping his expression neutral.
"What?"
"You're jealous of Marco."
"I'm not."
"You are. Your face does this thing—your jaw clenches, and your eyes get all sharp."
He gave her a flat look. "You're imagining things."
"I'm not." She grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "It's cute."
"You're pushing it."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
She took a step closer, and he could feel the heat of her against him. "So, if you're not jealous, and you don't care, then why do you always show up when someone talks to me?"
He looked away because he didn't want to tell her the truth, the way he hated the idea of someone getting close, because that would give her too much power over him.
"That's what I thought," she said, brushing past him.
Before she could take another step, he snagged her wrist. Not hard, just enough to halt her. "I don't like him," Liam said again, softer now. "But not because I think he's annoying or fake."
"Then why?"
His thumb brushed her wrist, slow and almost without his conscious thought. He let go before she could say something about it.
"Just be careful," he said, muttering it against his teeth.
She gave him a soft smile. "That's not jealousy talking?"
"No," he said, but his voice wasn't as sure as it should have been.
She leaned closer, her words sliding against him like a dare. "Don't worry. I like trouble. Just the right kind."
He let himself smile, really smile.
They walked inside together, the silence heavier between them now, but not uncomfortable.
When they reached the hallway where classes branched off, he stopped.
"Elena."
She turned. "You can eat lunch with whoever you want," he said. "I won't stop you."
"But?"
"No but. Just… if you ever want to sit with me instead, I won't mind."
She smiled. "I'll think about it."
He watched her walk away, the thought settling in his chest like a promise.
Marco could ask all he wanted.
She'd pick him eventually.