Tom's POV
We sat in an uncomfortable silence, eating our lunch, the noise of the cafeteria buzzing around us. I was lost in my own head when I suddenly raised my head. My eyes met Tyler's from across the room. His face was contorted with fury—fuming, like he was about to explode. If I'd been close enough, I swear I could hear his blood boiling, the veins in his neck standing out.
Why the hell was he looking at me like that? What the fuck did I do now? Why was he so angry? I already knew the answer—who the fuck am I kidding? He hates my guts. Always has, always will. It was no surprise he was staring me down like that, like he wanted to rip me apart.
I clenched my jaw, feeling that familiar wave of rage and frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Honestly, I didn't give a shit what he thought. But that look—fuck, it made my skin crawl.
As the bell rings, that shrill fucking noise cutting through the cafeteria chatter, I shove the rest of my fries in my mouth and sling my bag over my shoulder. I'm ready to bolt—God knows I need to be anywhere but here—when Imogen's voice slices through the noise like a knife.
"What do we have after lunch?" she asks, all sweet and casual, her eyes flicking between me and Luke like we're her friends. "I have Algebra," I say, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. I can practically feel Luke watching me, but I don't bother looking at him. "I have Music," Luke pipes up, his tone just as annoyingly calm as always. He's too fucking nice—it pisses me off for reasons I don't even understand.
"Cool! Looks like we have the same class, Tom. We'll walk together," Imogen chirps, already sliding closer before I can even tell her no. She throws a bright wave over her shoulder, "See you later, Luke!", and suddenly it's just me and her, moving through the swarm of bodies clogging up the hallway.
She closes the tiny distance between us in a heartbeat. Before I can shove my hands in my pockets or create some space, she loops her arm through mine. The warmth of her skin seeps through my hoodie sleeve and my whole body freezes—like I just got fucking tasered.
"What the fuck are you doing, Imogen?" I mutter, but she just tilts her head up at me, her smile so wide and sweet it makes my heart flutter. Her eyes are all big and innocent, like she's not doing anything in this here moment. Like she isn't tangled up with Tyler and whatever bullshit game he's playing now.
We're standing dead still in the middle of the hallway while people shove past us, bumping my shoulder, cussing under their breath, but she doesn't even flinch. She's got this look, like she doesn't know exactly what she's doing and wants me to believe she doesn't. And a small part of me believes she doesn't.
"Relax, Tom," she says softly, her fingers squeezing my arm like we're some fucking couple in a cheesy teen drama. "Can't I walk with you?" I snort, glancing down at her. "Since when do you want to walk with me?" Her smile twitches, but she doesn't answer that. Instead, she leans in closer, like she's gonna whisper some deep secret in my ear, her hair brushing my jaw. I catch the faint smell of her shampoo, strawberries or some shit. Makes me want to punch a wall just to snap out of it.
"You think too much, Tom," she murmurs, her breath warm against my neck. "Come on. Lets walk to Algebra. Be nice for once." I swallow down the hundred things I want to say—half of them mean, the other half I'd probably regret. Instead, I shrug, forcing my legs to move again. She stays glued to my side, her arm still hooked around mine, acting like she knew me. Like she cared about me
I hate how part of me lets her. That small part of me that believed she wasn't part of Tyler's plan. I always knew Imogen was nice. She may be popular but she was also smart and kind. A small part of me believed that she was, dare I say interested in me
But right now all I can think is: What the fuck are you up to, Imogen?