The Mafia Boy In My Class

CHAPTER THREE, THE STRANGE BOY

By the end of the first week, Ariana had started noticing things about Damon that didn't add up.

Nothing huge. Small things. He never checked his wallet before lunch, like money wasn't something he thought about. His phone buzzed constantly, and he'd glance at it and either ignore it completely or step out of the room to answer, calm every time. A couple of teachers treated him with a kind of caution that didn't match "new kid" , like they'd been told something the rest of the class hadn't.

"You're staring again," Lily said, elbowing her.

"I'm not staring."

"You've been staring at the back of his head for five minutes."

"I'm thinking."

"About him."

"About the assignment." Ariana didn't sound convinced by her own answer.

They were in the back of the library, supposedly working, though Lily had given up any pretense and was fully invested in watching Damon and Noah talk quietly across the room.

"Doesn't it seem weird to you?" Lily said. "He's been here a week and half the teachers act like he owns the place."

"He doesn't act like that."

"He walked past Mr. Dawson yesterday and Dawson practically bowed."

"He did not bow."

"He basically did."

Ariana glanced over despite herself. Damon was leaning back, arms crossed, listening to whatever Noah was saying. Then he laughed , quiet, surprised, like it caught even him off guard.

She hadn't seen him laugh before. It changed his whole face.

"See," Lily said, following her gaze. "Staring."

"Shut up."

At the other table, Noah was still grinning. "You know," he said, "you almost looked human just now."

"I am human."

"Could've fooled me. You've had that face on all week. The calculating one."

Damon's eyes drifted, without meaning to, toward the table where Ariana sat laughing at something Lily said.

"She's different," Damon said.

Noah followed his gaze. "Different how?"

"She doesn't ask who I am. She asks what I think."

"That's because she doesn't know who you are."

"I know."

Noah's grin faded a little. "Don't get comfortable. People get curious. Curious people ask questions. Questions lead to places we can't afford."

"I'm aware."

"Are you? You've spent more time watching that girl this week than checking your phone, and your phone's been blowing up with messages from your father."

Damon's jaw tightened. He hadn't realized Noah had clocked that.

"I have it handled."

"Sure you do."

The bell cut him off. Students started packing up around them, and Ariana appeared at the end of the table a moment later, a stack of books braced against her hip.

"Hey. Either of you know where the return bin is? I've been carrying these for two periods."

"Third floor," Noah said. "Damon's headed that way." He was already walking off before Damon could shoot him a look.

Ariana raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to."

"It's fine." Damon took half the stack from her without asking, which surprised her enough that she didn't argue.

They walked down the hallway together.

"You really don't say much, do you," she said.

"I talk."

"Barely."

"I talk when there's something worth saying."

"That's a very convenient excuse."

He glanced at her, something close to amused. "Is that a complaint?"

"An observation."

"Noted."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"You've said that."

"Because it's still true."

At the return bin, he set his stack down and reached for the last book in her arms before she could stop him.

"Why do you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Help. Carry things. You barely talk to anyone else, but you're constantly doing this."

He paused, book still in his hand, like the question had caught him somewhere he hadn't expected.

"I don't know," he said. "Habit, maybe."

"Weird habit."

"Most of mine are."

She studied him a second, then let it go. "Well. Thanks."

"Anytime."

She turned to leave, then glanced back. "You're not as terrible as I thought on the first day."

Something flickered across his face , surprise, maybe. "Good to know."

She smiled and walked off toward her next class. Damon watched her go, standing there a second longer than he needed to.

Noah was waiting outside, arms crossed, grinning. "'She's different.'"

"Don't."

"I'm just saying. You've known her for a week."

Damon didn't answer, already walking past him. Noah pushed off the wall and followed.

"You're going to get yourself in trouble," Noah said, quieter now. "You know that."

Damon stopped at the top of the stairs, looking out at the black car waiting exactly where it always di

d, Elias standing beside it, scanning the parking lot out of habit.

"I know," Damon said.

He didn't sound like someone planning to stop.