Crave (Harlequin Teen)

actual paint job. Not that a brand-new sports car would have been enough to make me forgive him for threatening Mom’s and Nanna’s lives, either.
    Even my friends had teased me a little at my slumber party, suggesting I buy some Rust-Oleum spray paint to keep it from rusting any further. Still, it got me where I needed to go and was free, so I’d asked Mom to pass on my thanks to him. But I also didn’t feel too bad about pushing the door shut with one foot. It wasn’t like I could damage the finish.
    In the early-morning, late-October hush, the campus was cooler now that autumn had finally arrived. It was also empty and peaceful, just the way I liked it best. No one around watching me, judging me. No one to have to try to hide all my secrets from. Until the Charmers began to show up in the next fifteen minutes, the campus was all mine. And maybe the janitors’, though I never saw them around this early before school. At this time of the day, the normally confining pines surrounding the school felt cozier, like a giant green blanket to hide in.
    I adjusted the headphones over my hair and ears, pushed Play on my iPod, then walked fast past the cafeteria and math building. I needed to get moving or I’d be late with the sound system for practice. I’d switched out this duty with the freshmen managers today so they could start fetching ice bags and deliver roll-call charts to the front office instead. This new system should work out perfectly since I had to unlock the dance rooms anyway.
    Sighing, I passed the math building, started up the cement ramp that led to the sports and art building’s foyer doors…and nearly dropped my thermos and keys.
    Tristan was leaning against the doors, his hands tucked into the pockets of his faded jeans. In the early-morning light, made gray by the shadow of the building, he looked surreal against the royal-blue painted doors. Maybe I was still half-asleep and imagining him. I yanked off my headphones.
    “Good morning, Savannah.”
    I stumbled but quickly recovered. Nope, he was definitely here. “Um, good morning, Tristan.”
    “You use the old-style headphones. Interesting choice.” He nodded at the hot-pink and black headphones still dangling from my hand.
    Blinking fast, I jerked open the zipper on my duffel bag and shoved my iPod inside. “Uh, yeah. My ears are too small for those earbud things to stay in.” Plus the old-style headphones stayed on better when I danced. “What are you doing here?” I winced. That came out ruder than I’d intended, but it was better than showing how I really felt about him. “I mean, if you’re here about the escort thing—”
    “Yes and no.”
    Okay. That cleared it all up. “Are you here to talk to Mrs. Daniels?”
    “No, I already talked to her on Saturday. I gave her a call and explained my situation.”
    Even walking as slowly as I could, I still wound up at the doors. And much too close to him. I fumbled through the team keys one-handed, trying to hurry up and get the doors unlocked so I could move away from the temptation as quickly as possible.
    “Here, let me.” He eased the thermos from my hand, his fingers sliding over mine in the process. A tiny shiver rippled up my spine. I froze for a few seconds then recovered and focused on unlocking the doors. He held open the door for me and offered me the thermos.
    “And what did Mrs. Daniels say?” I took the thermos back, careful not to touch his fingers, then darted under his arm and through the doorway. But not fast enough to miss catching the tiniest hint of his cologne.
    “She and I came up with a better idea.” He followed me inside, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed, emphasizing how empty the building was. How alone we were together.
    Why, oh, why, did he have to be a descendant?
    I had work to do. I should remember that and stay focused on my duties. I headed down the length of the shadowed foyer, pausing at the base of the stairs. Was he going to follow me around?
    Oh, good Lord. I could not handle being this close to him much longer. He needed to leave so I could breathe right again. “So are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
    “You’re looking at the newest Charmers manager.” He gave a wry smile.
    I couldn’t help it; I snorted. Like the dancers, the Charmers managers had always been females since the team’s founding in 1984. “Yeah, right. You? A manager for the dance team? What happened to being an