Hayden Cross has a lot of qualities that absolutely infuriate me but for some reason, I thought he might have enough of a heart to help those who asked for it.

It's not that I've asked or am asking for his help.

All I'm asking for is answers.

Why were those men at Del-Mart going crazy over a flash drive? Were they connected to the mob activity flaring up in surrounding cities? Did Hayden know anything about it or was he just in the area when he decided to play vigilante warrior and save my life?

Why would he want to save me?

Our encounter in the storage room didn't do much to give me any answers. Hayden played dumb and right when I thought my pressing would finally break him for an inkling of the truth, Coach Foster unlocked the door and yelled at us for fifteen minutes for being stupid enough to get ourselves locked in there.

You shouldn't care about it so much, I tell myself as I stand in the school parking lot the next day. The memory stick is gone. No one has sent you any messages. You're in the clear.

That's a great way to think about it. Too bad I don't believe it. I've watched too many action movies to know that once you're wrangled in crap like this, it's never over.

Corry had to stay a few minutes after class to finish his chemistry test and I wasn't about to go home and face whatever boy toy my mother had brought home last night.

I could hear them in the kitchen this morning. Giggling and kissing like teenagers. It was different from the other encounters Mom had. Most of the time, the men would be gone without a sound. This one was different. This one reminded me of hearing my parents sing or dance in the kitchen while making breakfast.

Corry heard it too. But he didn't say anything.

The shrill chirps of football whistles catch my attention and I lazily lean against the side of my car to watch the varsity football team storm the field. With the playoffs right around the corner, Coach Foster and his crew wanted to pay special attention to the football team this week. That meant no detention.

Thank goodness.

No Coach Foster and his creepiness, but most importantly, my interactions with Hayden Cross would lessen.

If he'd let them.

My eyes float from head to head as I search for a particular player, but Nate Lincoln is nowhere in sight. He wasn't in class either. I don't know why that makes my chest tighten the way it does. A part of me had hoped he would try to find me after the party and ask where I had been. We passed each other a few times in the hallway, but there were too many people to get through. Did he care that we didn't get to meet and talk? Or was I just another person he invited?

Enough teenage angst, Ember. You have other things to worry about.

A tight throb in the top of my head solidifies the statement.

To make matters worse, I'm pretty sure I'm coming down with something. That's what happens when you're locked in a freezing cold equipment room with your arch nemesis for two hours.

"Corry, where the hell are you?" I mumble, staring at my phone. It's been close to forty-five minutes! He said he'd be here in ten!

Hot sunlight pinches my skin and I don't dare to sit in the car. One, because it's probably a sauna in there, and two, gas is too damn expensive to have the car running with the air conditioning on blast while I wait for my twin.

Throwing my bag in the back seat, I grab my phone and march toward the school building. Just as I enter through the side doors leading to the science hallway, I hear it.

"Maybe you should come over to my house this weekend, Hansen. I have a hot tub!" A low, masculine voice snickers. The words bounce along the corridor walls and smack me in the chest and in an instant, I'm coming up with a bunch of ideas on how to take down someone twice my size.

They won't know what hit them.

Following the voices, my subtle jog quickly turns into an anxious sprint down the hall. Their words leap from tile to tile around my head, sounding like they're coming from right beside me and a million miles away all at the same time.

Gabby—I thought she went home during the fourth period. She was supposed to get her cast changed. What is she doing here?

My best friend's snarky response is lost in the deep echo of the hallway they stand in and slipping on the slick floor. I round the corner to see Gabby standing in front of a few guys blocking her locker. I recognize one, David Blake, from English, and the others wear letterman jackets decorated in wrestling patches.

They appear to be so pleased with the total bullshit running out of their mouths, lips pulled in malicious grins, fingers curling in and out of their palms in anticipation. Gabriella stands straight with her head healed high in a 'holier than thou' stance that has me beaming at how unbelievably amazing my best friend is. With just a tilt of her head, I'm sure she could vaporize them.

"But of course," one of the wrestlers purrs, "We don't need a hot tub. What do you say?"

"For the last time, get out of my way." she growls. "Nothing happened the way you sick-headed bozos think it did. If you want someone to climb in a hot tub with you," I cringe when her voice wavers, "and do whatever you have planned in your perverted little heads then I suggest you look for someone desperate. How about each other? You seem pretty desperate."

The looks on the boys' faces tell me they weren't expecting her to say anything to them.

"Is there a problem here?" I ask, leisurely strolling down the hall with my hands in my back pockets. Everyone's attention turns to me and I can see the smile forming on Gabby's lips. My eyes cut to the boys and I give them my best death stare. It's something I've perfected over the years being enemies with Hayden and all. "You're okay, right, Gabby?"

She exhales a laugh, "Never better. We were just talking... but they're leaving now."

David doesn't seem to want to end this. Well, he's going to be sorry. "Listen up you stupid slu—"

"Oh, calm down," a voice says from behind me. "She said nothing happened. And nothing did."

Glancing past my shoulder, David's eyes look like they're going to pop out of his head. When I follow his gaze, my eyes almost do the same. Hayden saunters toward the boys with his hands in his pockets. Though his expression reads boredom, there is a darkness in his eyes that sends shivers across my skin.

David isn't having it. "Right. When did you become a fucking white knight?"

Hayden smirks. "I didn't realize telling the truth was being a white knight." David's words, nor his menacing expression have any effect on him. "Is that how you get laid, Blake? Or, I should say, it's why you're still a virgin. Mix it up, man. This isn't working."

David narrows his eyes. "Don't you have a parole hearing to go to?"

"Don't you have a DUI you need to take care of?"

One of his buddies grabs Blake's shoulder. Both boys stare at each other in a silent match, and finally, David concedes. That's very uncharacteristic of David Blake. Though, the way he angrily looks back at us tells me to keep a close eye. He looks like one to cause much trouble. They all march down the hall in a low grumble of curses.

Good riddance.

Hayden turns to look at Gabby and I. "What assholes."

I roll my eyes. "Takes one to know one."

"What she means is thank you," Gabby interrupts. She bumps her shoulder against mine, prompting a heavy sigh that makes my chest feel like it's going to collapse on itself. The smug look on Hayden's face doesn't help either.

Smug. He's always so freaking smug.

Hayden's eyes linger on Gabby. "You're welcome." He looks like he's going to say more, but his attention snaps to the phone chimes coming from his pocket. Before he leaves, his eyes lock with mine. "Take care of yourself."

And with that, he leaves.

* * *

"You missed a spot."

"No, I didn't."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

"No! I didn't!"

"I could do this all day." Hayden grins, leaning over his seat and watching me scrub paint off of the health room floor.

I don't know what you could possibly need paint in health class for but Coach Foster thought it would be best to give the janitor a night off and let us clean it.

And by 'us' I mean me actually working and Hayden being the irritating nuisance he always is.

"What spot?" I finally cave.

"Right there. And you might need to lean in and scrub it really well," he smirks. "Or the paint won't come off."

Grabbing a second sponge from my bucket, I threw Sponge Bob's relative straight at Hayden. He catches it like it's nothing, giving me a pointed look that should have been followed by one of his many insults if it weren't for the two cigarettes hanging out of his mouth.

I'm going to have to request a gasmask soon.

"Oh look! You have a sponge!" I exclaim, pointing to the stain. "You can clean it up this time!"

Hayden blinks and the next thing I know, the sponge is rocketing straight toward my face. I let out a squeak and duck.

"What the hell!" I screech.

"What the hell? You're the one throwing things at me!" he retorts, pulling out a carton of cigarettes from his back pocket. I gape at him.

"Don't tell me you're going to light another one."

Hayden ignores my words and stalks to the other side of the classroom, pushing a second window open, and perching beside it like a bird of prey watching its kingdom, waiting for its next meal. He holds one cigarette between his fingers and takes a large drag of death smoke from the other, blowing it out the window.

The low whistle of the evening wind drifts into the classroom and the scent of wet leaves and asphalt mingles with the stench of cigarettes.

"Someone is moodier than normal," I comment angrily. "Quit getting your granny panties in a knot. I'm giving you something to do since you're in detention too."

"Do you honestly think I give a fuck? I care, Ember. I'm not going to take stupid orders from anyone and especially not you!" he explodes.

His gaze is piercing but I don't bend to his will. I refuse to. Long seconds pass and he watches me with unwavering ferocity. He wants me to do something. He wants this to escalate.

The sound of electronic bells tears into my ears. This seems to snap Cross out of it—or at least, partly. He still looks like he might burst into flames and burn the school down.

I don't say a word. Detention might officially be over, but this isn't.

Hayden pulls a small black phone from his back pocket. I watch his expression turn for the worst when he looks at the message, strong jaw setting into a tight clench.

Hayden rises from his seat, not bothering to close the window or returning the chair back to where he found it, and stalks across the room. I jump to my feet,

"Where are you going?" I ask. This isn't over. He briefly glances over his shoulder.

"Home. Detention is over."

I don't believe it for a second.

So I decide to do the one thing that I know I shouldn't do if I want to keep my sanity—I follow him out into the parking lot. I can't help it. My curiosity is getting the best of me. Instinct tells me he's lying.

Hayden is up to something and I'm going to find out exactly what it is.

* * *