Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [79]
I kept my eyes on the door, trying to hear who was coming in above the chattering in the classroom—and feeling extremely disappointed when Mr. Emerson hurried in with a sour look on his face. A minute afterward, Brendan sauntered into the room in his signature state of hot disarray. His tie was barely knotted, and his hair was tousled, of course. I bet he didn’t even own a hairbrush. Our eyes immediately met, and this scenario felt all too familiar to me. Only this time, his soft lips curled into a deliciously naughty smile that made my heart skip.
“Hey, beautiful.” Brendan’s voice was a low rumble as he slid into his seat and turned to face Mr. Emerson. I took a deep breath, trying to wipe the cartoonishly wide grin from my face. I glanced around and noticed that Brendan’s sly little greeting hadn’t gone unnoticed by one particular classmate. But instead of Kristin’s usual bullets-from-the-eyeballs glare that she seemed to reserve just for me, she had a weirdly smug, satisfied look on her face.
I rested my head on my chin, listening to Mr. Emerson explain points he thought the class had gotten wrong in our Midsummer Night’s Dream papers as I stared at the back of Brendan’s head, thinking how, just a few hours before, I had been running my fingers through that unruly mop of hair.
As English ended, Brendan turned to face me, throwing his left arm cavalierly over my desk. “So Emma, want to get out of here for lunch?”
“Absolutely,” I said, relieved, and started shoving my notebook into my backpack.
“Awesome, there’s this great little restaurant just a few— Oh, hi, Mr. Emerson.” Brendan’s tone changed from flirty to formal, and I looked up to see our English teacher standing over Brendan with a disapproving look.
“Miss Connor, Mr. Salinger, you’re wanted in Principal Casey’s office. Now,” he said, his voice stern.
Brendan took a deep breath and stood up, casting a reassuring glance my way. “Mr. Emerson, if this is about the prank the basketball team allegedly pulled on Regis High School, I can assure you, Emma had nothing to do with—”
“Save it, Salinger. Just get yourself down to Principal Casey’s office, now!” Mr. Emerson boomed, his ruddy face turning nearly purple from the exertion. Brendan looked at me and shrugged, holding out his hand for me to take. I cautiously grabbed it, hoping my palms weren’t sweaty.
I had daydreamed about walking down the hallways of Vince A with Brendan Salinger holding my hand plenty of times. Only in my fantasies, we were never walking to the principal’s office.
Brendan kept his grip on me as he led me down the flights of stairs to the first floor, where Principal Casey’s office was, off to the right of where Gray Lady Gary held court. If he noticed the stares and whispers from our classmates, he ignored them. I, on the other hand, wasn’t able to block out the voices even though I followed his lead and looked straight ahead.
“Holy crap, Salinger is holding that new girl’s hand! Isn’t she a witch or something?”
“Salinger and Emily Conrad? Where did that come from?”
“Brendan finally dates someone and it’s her? I’m like, way prettier than she is,” clucked a high-pitched voice to my left.
“Stupid skank. She had no idea who she was messing with.” On that last comment, I turned to see who said it—and my eyes met the cold glare of Kristin Thorn.
I never thought I would be so relieved to reach the principal’s office in my entire life.
But to my surprise, we weren’t the only people there. Aunt Christine sat in one of the cracked leather chairs, and a stunning blonde woman—with piercing green eyes—sat on the opposite side of the room. And in the center sat Anthony—and an equally menacing, older version of Anthony, whom I could only assume was his father. His very angry, very large father.
“Please sit down, Mr. Salinger, Miss Connor,” Principal Casey said, a steely smile on her tangerine-lipsticked lips.