Riley's POV
I snap my gaze away from their table like I've been burned, focusing intently on Zoey instead. She's staring back at me with the same bewildered expression I know must be painted across my own face. This isn't the place for explanations, not with so many listening ears around us. After Mason marked me as his target, everyone in this cafeteria is waiting to catch every word that falls from my lips. Zoey seems to understand my silent message because she clears her expression and casually returns to her food.
Looking down at what Mason brought me, I see an assortment that would normally make my mouth water. Cheese-filled crackers, chocolate donuts that look bakery-fresh, a thick turkey sandwich, and some kind of energy drink. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the thoughtful selection. But trust isn't something I can afford right now. Every instinct screams danger as I slide the entire offering to the far edge of the table.
When Zoey wordlessly offers me one of her chocolate donuts, I shake my head. My stomach feels like it's tied in sailor's knots, each twist tighter than the last as I wait for whatever game this really is to reveal itself.
The lunch bell's sharp ring cuts through my anxious thoughts like a blade. I practically launch myself from the bench, desperate to escape this suffocating atmosphere. After a quick goodbye to Zoey, I weave through the crowd of students with single-minded determination. The untouched snacks go straight into the trash can by the exit. Normally, I'd feel guilty about the waste, maybe even return them if there was truly nothing wrong with them. But talking to Mason again isn't an option I'm willing to consider.
The hallway feels like freedom as I head toward fourth period AP Geography. Behind me, footsteps pound against the linoleum floor, getting closer with each step. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, bracing for impact or confrontation or whatever cruel surprise awaits me. Instead, nothing happens.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything. Just thought I could walk you to class." Mason's voice carries that same gentle tone from lunch, and it makes my skin crawl with suspicion.
I keep walking, eyes fixed straight ahead like he's nothing more than a ghost haunting these halls. Maybe if I ignore him completely, he'll disappear.
"I see you didn't like the snacks I bought for you." The observation hangs in the air between us.
Against my better judgment, I glance sideways and offer him the smallest smile I can manage before returning my attention to the path ahead. Why won't he just leave me alone?
His laugh is soft, almost genuine. "Oh come on, Riles, I know you can talk. Otherwise, I wouldn't have heard your joke earlier. You didn't like your snacks?"
Riles? The nickname stops me cold for a split second. Is he trying to be cute, or does he actually think that's my name?
Fine. If talking will make him disappear faster, I'll give him what he wants. "I liked the snacks you picked out fine, Mase. I just wasn't hungry. You don't need to walk me to class because I know exactly where my classroom is. Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather walk alone." The anger seeping into my voice surprises even me. This whole charade of friendship is worse than outright hostility. At least with enemies, you know where you stand.
"Mase?" He repeats the nickname with obvious amusement, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "I like it. Though I'm guessing that wasn't the reaction you were going for. Don't like your new nickname? I could always pick something else."
The teasing tone breaks something loose inside me. "I don't care what you call me. I don't care what you do. Can you just stop pretending to be nice and get on with whatever sick game you were sent to play with me?"
I stop dead in the middle of the hallway, forcing him to halt as well. Students flow around us like water around stones, creating a small traffic jam of curious onlookers. When I meet his eyes, something flickers across his face that looks almost like guilt before melting into something that resembles sadness.
"I'm not pretending, Riles. Look, I understand why you'd think that, but honestly, I'm not planning anything." The sincerity in his voice almost makes me waver, almost makes me want to believe him.
Then I spot them. Jace and Silas, trying their hardest to look casual while lurking barely twenty feet away. Silas's golden hair catches the fluorescent lights as he pretends to examine something in his locker. Jace leans against the wall with practiced nonchalance, his dark curls falling across his forehead as he scrolls through his phone. They're not fooling anyone, least of all me.
I point directly at his backup crew. "Good try."
The moment Mason turns to see what I'm indicating, I bolt. My sneakers squeak against the polished floor as I dart between clusters of students, putting as much distance as possible between myself and whatever trap they were trying to spring.
The rest of the day passes in a haze of distraction. Even in art class with Zoey, I can't focus on anything our teacher is saying about her latest abstract painting. Our teacher always shares stories about her artwork, and normally I find them fascinating. She's incredibly talented, probably good enough to make a living as a professional artist. But she once told us that when she tried selling her pieces, she couldn't bear to part with them. Each painting holds too much of her heart.
"Do you think this is all part of some elaborate joke?" I whisper to Zoey during a lull in the lecture.
She looks at me with sympathy written across her features. "Maybe, but maybe he genuinely wants to be your friend. You're not impossible to like, Riley. Plus, Mason is definitely the nicest one in that group."
She gives me an encouraging wink and squeezes my arm gently.
"In that particular pack of wolves, there's practically no chance of that being true," I mutter, rolling my eyes.
"I don't know about that. I really love you, so I don't think it's that much of a stretch for someone else to see what I see."
I press my lips together and turn back toward the teacher's presentation, though her words wash over me without meaning. Mason has already invaded my thoughts completely, consuming every corner of my mind with questions and doubts. Maybe that's exactly what they want, to make me obsess over their next move until I'm too paranoid to think straight.
Unfortunately, it's working perfectly.