HAYLEY
This can't be real. I'm half certain my sandwich’s been spiked with something and I'm hallucinating, because there's no way Shane O'Connor has just willingly sat next to me and called me by name. And worse… he's smiling.
His tall, large frame swallows the space between us, and a part of me contemplates bolting up and running away from here for no reason at all. I force down the sandwich in my throat. “Uh, hi,” I croak.
“You know, I didn't exactly peg you as the football type,” Shane says, raising a brow with that shocking smile still plastered to his face.
Since when did Shane O’Connor smile? Not since I've known him in freshman year, he never does. The guy's practically the brooding prince of Greystone High, along with his usual duo of Rakim Thanzo and Miles Ortega. As I tra
