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completely innocent.  From where I stood—admittedly from where I stood emotionally, not necessarily physically—it looked anything but innocent.
    I felt my temper flare and my jealousy soar. I didn’t think before raising my hand in the air. A thin thread of magic shot from my finger. It darted through the crowd, straight to its intended target.
    Julie jumped as she snatched her hand away from Tristan’s body. The fingers of her other hand began massaging the spot where the small burst of magic probably smarted.
    Immediately, I was horrified with what I’d done. Magic use in school was strictly prohibited. I glanced around guiltily, hoping that no one saw. I nearly let out a sigh of relief when I affirmed no teachers were present.
    Even if I’d been seen, I wasn’t too worried about the punishment. The level of magic I’d used was on par with shooting spitballs. I was embarrassed that I’d stooped to that level. Like shooting spitballs, what I’d done was childish, immature. I didn’t want to have to own up to it.
    That relief quickly dissipated when I realized that while no teacher had been privy to my magical tantrum, someone else had.
    Tristan’s eyes were narrowed at me. All laughter was gone and a scowl had taken its place. He treated me to a subtle, knowing shake of his head. Then his attention was back on Julie. He took her hand in his, as if inspecting it for visible signs of injury. I was offended that he thought I was capable of that. Not that I didn’t have the ability. But I was offended that he thought I’d actually hurt someone.
    He began massaging her hand, rubbing away the sting for her. She gazed up at him and he gazed back down at her. He wore a sympathetic look.
    It had been just a tiny zap that I had shot her way. It hardly warranted his undivided attention.
    I knelt down, shoved my books inside, and then slammed my locker door shut. I took off, heading for the doors, but not before I glanced over my shoulder. To my mortification Tristan was stomping my way.
    I hurried, not wanting to face him. I was embarrassed by my actions. Furthermore, I knew he’d want an explanation. Honestly, there was no logical explanation that I could give him.
    As I burst out the door, the warm air enveloped me. I barely noticed it as I hurried along. My feet pounded an odd rhythm against the pavement as I speed-walked down the sidewalk.
    “Sam!” Tristan called.
    My feet picked up their awkward pace, half running, and half walking. I would look ridiculous if I broke into a flat-out run. But I was awfully close and other students were shooting curious glances my way.
    Moments later I heard footsteps slapping the concrete behind me. I had two choices, run from Tristan and make a complete fool out of myself. Or stop, and hopefully only make a partial fool out of myself.
    I didn’t have the opportunity to choose. His long legs covered the distance between us in no time.
    “What is up with you?” he growled into my ear. His hand had settled against the small of my back. It coasted the short distance to my waistline, cupping neatly around me. His arm curved around my body, pulling me in slightly. I knew he was going for a bit of privacy, using his body to shield us from prying ears. “Why would you do that?” he demanded. “And don’t pretend you didn’t. I know it was you! You’re just lucky that Julie didn’t know. And that no one else was paying attention.”
    I wasn’t sure how he could possibly know . Although I had to admit to myself, since I’d been staring right at her, and the hallway had mostly cleared, it was probably pretty obvious. I realized I should probably be trying to conjure up an argument in my favor, or at the very least, an excuse.
    He stopped walking but kept his arm around me, his head lowered, as if waiting for my hushed reply. “You know how I feel about you using magic. Did you do that just to annoy me? Because if you did, that was really unfair. Julie’s never done anything