Chelsea feigned innocence. “What? You don’t want New Boy to come sit with us? Claire and Jules don’t mind, do you?”
Jules was too busy eating to get involved in their conversation. The lanky tomboy looked like a prison inmate as she leaned over her tray, one arm wrapped protectively around it, shoveling the less-than-edible-looking food into her mouth.
Claire shook her head. “Of course not.”
Chelsea continued, “You are one lucky girl, Violet. That boyfriend of yours has a heart of gold. He’s just trying to make the new guy feel at home.” And then she added, “Yet, when I do it, you get all bent and give me dirty looks. You should try being a little more like Jay and me. Try opening up your heart . . . just a little.”
“Oh wait. Never mind,” Claire announced, ignoring Chelsea. “The new kids are staying where they are. But here comes Jay.”
Violet shot a warning look at Chelsea as Jay sat down beside her. He slipped his hand beneath the back of her shirt, tracing his thumb across the small of her back. It was so familiar, his touch, yet disarming at the same time. Violet leaned into him and he kissed her forehead. His lips were soft but left her skin tingling. She could hardly believe that her stomach still did somersaults whenever he was near.
“What are you guys talking about?” Jay asked, and Violet wondered if she only imagined the implication she heard in his words.
Chelsea smiled sweetly. “We were just curious about your new friends over there. Well . . . more about him than her.”
Chelsea Morrison was a pretty girl. She had smooth skin; a slim, athletic body; and shiny, chestnut-colored hair. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth that the near-perfect illusion of femininity was shattered. Fortunately for Chelsea, she couldn’t care less what people thought of her . . . one way or the other. Chelsea refused to conform to what anyone else expected her to be.
Jay chuckled at Chelsea. “You mean Mike?” he asked, giving the new kid a name. “I was just asking if he wanted to come sit with us, but for some reason”—he glanced at Violet with raised eyebrows—“he didn’t want to. Is there anything you want to tell me? Like why Mike might prefer not to sit at the same table with you?”
“It wasn’t me . . . it was her!” Violet, nearly choking on the bite of soggy pizza she was trying to swallow, pointed at Chelsea.
Chelsea laughed, and even Jules stopped stuffing her face long enough to smile appreciatively. Claire was the only one who remained straight-faced, mostly because she didn’t seem to be listening anymore. Her fingers worked viciously over the keys of her cell phone; she was absorbed in a long series of text messages . . . probably to someone sitting only a few tables away.
“I know,” Jay admitted. “Chelsea’s the only girl at this school who would actually have the balls to say something like that right in front of someone.”
Chelsea did her best to look indignant, her eyes widening in mock outrage. “Whatever! Why couldn’t it have been Jules? Or Claire?”
“What? I didn’t say anything,” Claire piped in, suddenly paying attention.
Chelsea rolled her eyes at Claire’s serious tone. “Paranoid much? No one was actually accusing you of anything. Besides, what do I care if he knows it was me? There’s nothing wrong with noticing that he’s . . . mmm, delicious. If he plays his cards right, he could end up as Mr. Chelsea.”
“As if that’s even possible, Chels,” Claire declared. “The guy doesn’t change his name; you’d have to change yours.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes again, this time so that Claire couldn’t see her, as she visibly bit back her irritation. “Thanks for the lesson in social convention, Claire-bear.”
Claire shrugged and smiled ingenuously. “No problem.”
Violet glanced at Jay, grinning over Claire’s innate ability to annoy Chelsea without repercussions.
Violet envied Claire for that. But she knew that the only reason Chelsea didn’t turn her wrath on Claire was because, more than anything else in the world, Chelsea hated apologizing. So somehow, with a strength of will that she was unable to find when dealing with anyone else, Chelsea managed to curb her temper when it came to Claire’s sensitive feelings.
Violet found it highly entertaining.
But Jay was grinning back at Violet for an entirely different reason. He bent toward her, and sparks of anticipation crackled through her body. His lips quietly brushed over hers, right there in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, just the whisper of a kiss. Yet Violet was powerless to stop him.
Even if she’d wanted to, her body never seemed to follow the simplest of instructions when it came to Jay. He was like her Kryptonite.
Chelsea stared at them disgustedly. “Will you guys stop it already? I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.” She shuddered exaggeratedly. “If you can’t wait until you’re alone, I’m gonna have to ask you to find another place to sit.” And then her short attention span got the best of her, and she nodded her head in the direction of Mike and his sister. “So what’s their story?”
Jay shrugged. “I have no idea; I just met him today. He’s in my first-period class. His family just moved here. That’s about all I know.”
“Why here?” Jules asked, and Violet had to admit that she was wondering the exact same thing.
It wasn’t as if Buckley was a first-choice kind of town. And it didn’t have particularly easy access to anywhere important. It was more of a pass-through city on a small stretch of highway that headed nowhere in particular.