Libra Ascending: An Epic Urban Fantasy Romance (Zodiac Guardians Book 1) by Tamar Sloan (adult books to read .TXT) 📗

Good thing he’s done this a gazillion times before.

Falling behind them, Tristan flicks up his collar.

One of the guys, tall with shoulders almost the width of the stairs, throws a small red ball up into the air and catches it again. “Coach reckons I can go from defense to offense next game.”

The other girl, sleek black hair and caramel skin, scoffs out a laugh. “You said that last week.”

The blonde girl is absorbed in her cell, not even noticing when one of the Fringe girls waves. She’s frowning as she chews on a fake nail that perfectly matches her pink skirt.

The big guy throws the ball against the wall, above the head of one of the Outcasts as he tries to slink through the door. The Outcast flinches but doesn’t bother to turn around or look. The guy catches it, grinning. “Yeah, well, he saw me when I got that fast break.”

Tristan comes up beside him as they enter the school. “You were trying to get an unsettled clear? That ain’t easy.”

The guy turns around, frowning when he doesn’t recognize Tristan. “Ah, you play lacrosse?”

“Nah, just prefer it to football.”

The dude’s eyebrows hike up like they usually do. It’s always one of the two—football or lacrosse. You figure out the school sport, find the jock, and you’re in.

They’re outside the lockers and the guy slows to a stop. The others crowd around him, except for the blonde. She’s still glued to her cell.

The big guy grins. “People think football’s rough.”

Tristan rolls his eyes. “I’ve never seen a guy knocked for a loop in football like I have in lacrosse.” If this were a different school Tristan would be swapping the sports around. “Although it’s not all brawn. You need brains, and a mean throwing arm.”

“Damn straight you do.” The guy flicks the ball above the lockers, angling it so it comes straight at Tristan.

Even if he wasn’t expecting it, Tristan’s reflexes have been honed from years of training with Zarius. Considering Skins can go invisible, a lot of it’s been done with a blindfold.

You can tell a lot from the sound of rubber hitting brick, from the schlurp of the ball collapsing in on itself, the crack as it recoils.

Tristan doesn’t need to look to catch the ball as it comes straight at his head. His hand darts up and the ball lands in his palm with a slap.

The smart ones test you. That’s good.

The smart ones have all the info.

The big guy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa!”

He says it loud enough that several others turn around to see what’s going on. Tristan grins at each curious face, not minding the attention. The more people he can smile at, the more people will be happy to talk to him.

What’s more, it gets the blonde’s attention.

She looks up from her phone, an irritated frown marring her smooth skin, glancing around to see what the fuss is. Her eyes skim Tristan, registering he’s no one she knows, and she goes to look away. As a general rule, the Popular Clique doesn't give the common student the time of day.

But then she stops. Her eyes dart back to Tristan.

His grin expands as he gives her a short, jaunty wave.

Her eyes widen, vivid blue seeming to dominate her face, but she quickly recovers. She scans Tristan from head to toe, a slight challenge in the assessing tilt of her chin. Being easy on the eye has its advantages…

Tristan waits, deciding he likes her already. She’s got qualities a guy would like and she knows it. When her eyes return to his, he nods. “Hey, I’m Tristan.”

He leaves a question mark at the end. Knowing the blonde girl’s name is the first step.

Her pink lips tip up. “Cassandra. First day, huh?”

“Sure is. Was hoping someone could translate this for me.” He holds up a slip of paper with his schedule. From what he can tell, he has English first. It’s finding someone to sit with that’s the goal.

She steps in close, her eyes twinkling. Plucking it from his hands, she puckers her lips as she scans it. “Advanced English first.” She looks up and Tristan registers her perfume—floral yet spicy. “With me.”

He arches a brow. “Now that’s lucky.”

Before Cassandra can answer, a solid thwump hits Tristan between the shoulder blades. “The name’s Zayn. And our team is always looking for reserves…”

Bingo. Tristan is now in.

He absorbs the slap, knowing it was supposed to put him off balance. “Depends. What do people do for kicks around here?”

Zayn slams his locker shut. “Play lacrosse, obviously.”

The dark-haired girl rolls her eyes. “Watch Netflix while your parents think you’re studying. My name’s Suki, by the way.”

Cassandra leans in a little closer. “Go down to the local fro-yo cafe—Creamy Dreams.”

“Cool name,” Tristan states with an arched brow. He turns to Zayn, holding his hands up in apology. “Sorry man, fro-yo will win out every time.”

The bell rings followed by a chorus of more lockers clanging shut. Zayn snaps a glance at Tristan’s midriff. “It shows, too.”

Tristan laughs—he had a six pack when he was fourteen—glad that at least he’ll like these people. It makes a necessary task enjoyable.

Cassandra flips her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to give Ms. Grotberg an excuse to give out detention.”

“Ms. Grotberg?”

Suki rolls her eyes again and Tristan suspects it’s her thing. “And saying her name like that is the best way to get one. She’s also the vice-principal.”

He follows them down the hall, scanning the students as he goes. He’s found the blonde from his vision, now to find the brunette.

That one who looked at him like he was just there, like he was real…

The curious glances continue, and Tristan makes a point of smiling or saying hi. No one fits the image he saw. He tells himself he needs to connect with his inner Tess.

Patience, Zodiac boy. You’ve found one girl already. You’ll find the second.

Cassandra and