Crave (Harlequin Teen)

taking place just yards away from me.
    But when the bell rang, no matter how much my gut was twisted into knots, I still found myself following them out of the cafeteria. I exited the doors and started up the walkway just in time to see Stanwick kiss her goodbye on the catwalk. She hesitated for a minute, her shoulders hunching up near her ears. Could she feel me watching her? She didn’t turn to look, instead heading down the sidewalk toward the portable buildings. It was only as she walked up the steps to Mr. Smythe’s class that I realized we had history together this year.
    And now we were seated by each other, and it should have been great, but it wasn’t. Because not only could I see her from head to toe out of the corner of my eye without even looking at her, but I also couldn’t help but see how pink her cheeks were. And her constant smile.
    The soccer jerk made her happy.
    And that just made me want to punch something.
    Savannah frowned and rubbed her arm, and I noticed for the first time that the skin below her short sleeves was covered in goose bumps. Huh, that was weird. It didn’t feel that cold in here. But maybe I should ask Mr. Smythe to turn off the AC for a while.
    I had to stop looking at her.
    Jerking my wandering gaze to the dry-erase board ahead of us, I tried to copy down the notes as the class had been instructed to do. But my peripheral vision was a real curse, letting me see her long legs uncross then recross the opposite way.
    Oh, man, I was so screwed. I’d be able to see her from head to toe all year, every other weekday, without even turning my head. For an entire hour and a half.
    I’d have to beg my sister to help me with my homework again, this time in history.
    Giving up on the note taking, I tilted back my head and stared at the ceiling. Ah, better. At least this way I could only see Savannah from the waist up. Too bad I couldn’t shut out the sound of the Charmers bracelet she wrote. Apparently she’d joined the dance team over the summer, too. The tinkling was going to drive me crazy. Every movement of her wrist seemed to sing, “Tristan, look at me.”
    “Mr. Coleman, come see me, please,” Mr. Smythe barked from his desk at the back of the room.
    Surprised, I got up and walked over to him.
    He held out a piece of paper. “Take this note for me.”
    Confused, I accepted the sheet of unlined paper. “You want me to deliver a note, sir?”
    “Yes. Now.”
    Okay, this was a new one. I took the note and headed outside, shutting the door behind me.
    The note wasn’t sealed, which was also weird. Didn’t teachers always seal their notes with tape or something so students couldn’t read them? I glanced at the handwritten lettering on the note then saw it was addressed to me.
Tristan,
Get your emotions under control. Now. You’re killing me and probably every other descendant on this campus. Take however long you need, but get it done and make sure it doesn’t happen again. And burn this note.
Smythe
    And then I remembered. Mr. Smythe was Dylan’s uncle and a descendant. Cursing under my breath, I headed for the nearest trash can, did a quick flash burn on the note until it crumbled into ashes in the container, then headed for my usual grounding tree.
    Only to realize halfway there that I’d have to find another method. Now that it was no longer lunchtime, anyone who saw me at my grounding tree would grow suspicious and maybe even report me to the office for ditching class. I needed some element of nature other than air that would directly connect me to the earth. Fire, wood, earth, water…
    And then I had it. Changing course, I headed for the nearby restroom. Once inside, I checked to be sure no one else was there. I turned on a faucet, put both hands under the cold stream and willed the excess energy out into the flow of water. The heat from my energy immediately combined with the cold water to make steam that fogged up the lower half of the mirror. Cool. I hadn’t expected that.
    The bathroom door opened behind me, and a zit-faced freshman walked in, signaling the end of this grounding session. Hopefully it had been enough.
    The kid hesitated, his eyebrows raised. Probably at the steam.
    I turned off the water, dried my hands under a blower. The boy was still frozen near the door, his eyes squinting in suspicion.
    “Watch that hot-water knob. They must have cranked up the settings on the water heater,” I joked.
    That did it. The boy chuckled, nodded in