Page 22 of The Knight

The differences between us couldn't be more stark: I can't afford lunch, and he doesn't even have to think twice about offering to buy it for me. Making myself smile politely, because it's not Lukas's fault that I was born into a far poorer family than him, I nod. "Thank you. I didn't even realize that my ID wouldn't work, but... of course. It makes total sense. Just get me whatever is on the menu and looks good."

"Be right back."

As he melds into the lunch line, fitting in perfectly with all the rich kids, I let my eyes wander the full length of the dining hall. There's Georgia and Hass again, this time sitting next to each other instead of her on his lap, having an animated conversation with the rest of the table. I spy Piper Lyons, with her short dirty blonde hair and superior attitude, sitting at a table with a few other impossibly lithe girls. Veronica Pierce and Heather Tan are looking in my direction—at least until I stare at them and they duck their hands, exchanging no doubt pointed barbs. And at another table, there are a few somewhat familiar boys and—Hector.

Hector, who didn't text me while I was missing, who helped me sneak into Cole's room and steal his journal, who has a beef with him because of their fathers. He's sitting at a table with a few friends of his I don't know, talking as he twirls his fork in a pile of spaghetti. I must stare for too long, because his shoulders tense like he feels me looking his way, and then he glances up right at me—only for his gaze to skip over to someone standing a few feet away.

"Found yourself a nice table, haven't you?"

A familiar drawl drags me away, and I look up at the face that Hector was no doubt staring into: handsome tanned skin, dark hair, an impossibly roguish smirk, and the kind of charisma that can lay a girl flat on the ground in an instant. Tanner Connally will never change, and there's something reassuring about that. A girl could set her clock to his innuendo.

"Lukas wanted me to sit with him," I tell Tanner, letting a hint of a challenge sink into my tone. "Unless you have a problem with that?"

"Never, Brenna." He so rarely says my name—it's almost always nicknames with Tanner—that the sound of those two syllables spilling from his Kentucky-soaked mouth sends a little tingle up my spine. I hate myself for it even as the hairs on my arm stand on end. "Just wondering if you planned on poisoning my food. Or maybe something more sinister, like seducing me. Setting me on fire? One never knows, with you. Always so creative."

Grinding my teeth, I point out, "I've never done anything to you that you didn't invite by being a complete asshole."

"True enough." Sitting down, he takes out his phone and taps through an app that I realize belatedly is a food delivery service. Technically we're not supposed to have any outside food delivered to campus on weekdays, but that won't stop one of the Elites. "My father is still in a tizzy about all your revelations. He's worried I'm going to get my own DUI."

"You haven't?"

"Not for lack of trying." He flashes those white teeth at me, charming and dangerous all at once. "I mostly get drunk and ride dirt bikes through the Kentucky countryside, though. Maybe I should upgrade to a Ferrari, really get the gossip rags going."

"And I guess if someone gets hurt that doesn't matter."

He gives me an exaggerated wounded look, putting one hand over his heart. "Me, maim or kill someone? Never! The plan would be to drunkenly drive my car into a tree. Maybe a mall, just to really get the scandal going. There's never anyone in malls these days."

I snort, shaking my head at his antics. "Your father's campaign manager must have a heart attack just thinking about your existence."

"You have no idea."

The way he says it makes it sound like there's something I don't know—some Connally family secret that could take down the whole operation. Trying to investigate it is a huge temptation, but Tanner is a small, moving target compared to Hass—though I haven't sworn that I would stop exposing the Elites. Just taken a break momentarily because it's easier to be on their side than against them.

Licking my lips, I ask him, "What could I possibly not know about you? After all, you're an open book. Especially these days."

"You mean especially after you posted that video of me punching another boy, and I had to go on the morning talk show circuit to give a sad tale of origin to explain it all." Tanner sighs dramatically. "How heartbreaking it was, opening myself up emotionally on national TV. Woe is me."

"You don't have to be such a dick about it. Just don't answer the question."

"Where's the fun in that?" Another flash of a grin, another white smile that makes my stomach do uncomfortable, embarrassing things. I don't want to admit to myself how much of an effect he has on me, but there's no denying it, especially as he leans forward and practically growls, "If you want to know more about me Brenna, all you have to do is ask... at the right time, in the right place. I'll reveal itallto you. Bare anything. Strip naked."

"I get the metaphor," I tell him, trying to sound offended and uninterested even as uncomfortable things happen between my thighs at the thought of tanned, ripped Tanner taking his clothes off in front of me and confessing all his secrets. "Do you ever turn it off?"

"Nah, I'm always turned on."

Before he can slip another bit of innuendo in, Lukas shows up with our food, and Tanner shocks me by falling silent. I wouldn't think he'd care one way or another whether or not Lukas is around to witness his shameless flirting, but apparently he has at least a little bit in the way of standards.

"Thanks, Lukas." Warm gratitude suffuses me as he sets the tray of food in front of me. "I guess I'll have to get that new ID card soon."

"You can make an appointment for later today." Sliding his eyes over to Tanner, Lukas asks him, "Have you decided what you're doing about your finals yet?"

He shrugs. "Maybe I'll fail 'em on purpose, maybe I won't. Figured I'll decide when I sit down in front of each test."

"Why would you fail them on purpose?" I ask, curious despite myself.

"Easy—to piss the old man off. And cause trouble for him. No way he'll let me fail out of Coleridge, but keeping me here after so many Fs would cost him a shitload of money." Tanner grins, the shape of it pointed and feral. "So I fail on purpose. Just to fuck with him in the middle of his campaign."

No one dislikes George Connally as much as his son, it seems. I can't understand that kind of hatred—even the way I feel towards my father is a slow-burning thing, not the kind of resentment that leads to self-sabotage. I get the feeling Tanner would do anything just to make his father angry, even ruin his own life.

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