Special Forces 01 by Honor Raconteur Page A

don’t have access to the car today, unless you have transportation?”
    “I have a car,” she confirmed. “I can drive us.”
    “Then today is fine. The first showing is at six.”
    What, did he memorize the entire schedule to cover all contingencies? He sounded so certain that she would feel foolish asking if he was sure. “All right, then. Where do you live? I’ll come pick you up.”
    He rattled off the address, which Anne was pretty sure she could find. It was on a street that she recognized; one of her friends lived nearby. “Give me your phone number, just in case I get lost and have to call you.” He rattled that off too, which she immediately entered into her cell.
    They needed to coordinate a little more, but the teacher walked in at that moment, cutting their opportunity short. Anne had three classes with Arystair, and she had already learned that when the teacher showed up, Rys gave them his undivided attention. He never took notes, and he never opened a textbook, but she understood he didn’t need to. Out of curiosity, she’d asked him one question about biology, and he had been able to answer it immediately. What caught her attention was that it sounded like a direct quote from the lecture.
    Nothing got past this guy.
    Anne didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him again until fifth period, which was when they had gym class. Her lunch break had been consumed by her sister, who had a minor emergency because of a pair of ripped jeans. Anne had driven Candace home so she could change and headed straight back to school. Unfortunately they lived far enough away from the campus that the lunch hour was over by the time she got back.
    They currently had tennis in gym class right now, and she and Arystair were paired up for doubles. He’d never played the sport before moving here, but had rapidly picked up on the game. Anne wasn’t surprised by his ability; everything athletic seemed to come naturally to him. She was a pretty good player, as well, so it wasn’t difficult for them to carry on a conversation as they played. Their opponents didn’t seem to have nearly as much free time to talk.
    “You know,” she began as the first volley was served by the opposite team, “most friends have nicknames for each other.”
    He returned the ball with an effortless forehand, before looking at her. “Really? It was the same on Fourth. Does that mean I am allowed call you by a nickname?”
    This question pleased her. So you already consider us friends, do you? That was the best news she’d heard all day. She had to hit the ball back into the other court before she could answer. “Actually, Anne is my nickname,” she admitted. “My full name is Anastasia.”
    The other team had to scramble to get the ball near the baseline, barely returning it in a slow, easy arc in the air. Arystair, with a grin on his face, hit it hard, giving the other team zero chance to recover it. Grumbling, one of the players picked up a fast jog to retrieve the still bouncing ball.
    “I love it when they do that,” Arystair commented with a feral grin. “They’re so fun to smash; it reminds me of a kill shot. If I understand correctly, Anne is your nickname?” He gave her a speculative look. “Okay, most of my friends don’t call me Arystair, either.”
    This was interesting. “What do they call you, then?”
    “Rys.”
    He actually looked more like a Rys to her than Arystair. “I like Rys better,” Anne observed. “May I call you that, too?”
    That question definitely pleased him. “Affirmative.”
    They were distracted by the other team again; they had finally caught up with the ball. “Love-fifteen,” the server called the score as he tossed the ball up, getting ready to serve it.
    It was at this point that several things went south all at once. Anne caught an unusual movement out of the corner of her eye. The girl on the next court next to them overextended her racket on a backward swing, and lost her grip on it,