Elite (Eagle Elite #1)(12)

On my right a girl texted someone and giggled behind her hand. The guy in front of me was reading a porno.

Safe to say the world of tomorrow was not in good hands.

Once the rest of the kids poured in, the lights flickered once, then twice. I learned quickly that meant that it was time to quiet down.

The door to the classroom opened. Nixon walked in.

You have got to be kidding me.

I looked around for an empty seat. There weren’t any. Curious, I watched as he went and stood behind the desk in the front.

“You all know me, and if you don’t, well then, ask someone next to you because I’m not repeating my name. Professor Sanders had a death in the family, and because I’m doing a business internship for him, he asked me to fill in. Many of you are seniors that have put off this class until the last year here. Welcome to Freshman Politics. This class is going to suck, it’s hard as hell, and if you don’t get a B, you basically flunk the class. But…” He stepped around the desk and leaned against it. “If you listen, do your homework, and keep your head out of our asses long enough to pay attention, you may just learn something.”

Okay, so as a person he sucked. As a teacher, I kind of dug the honesty.

“Trace,” Nixon called my name.

Just kidding, I wanted to feed him to a hundred piranhas.

“Yes?” I stood. Monroe had filled me in that every time a teacher called on you, you stood. At least I knew that much before being thrown into the lion’s den.

“Name all the Presidents of the United States. You have three minutes.”

I smirked, mainly because I had known the answer to that question since I was in sixth grade when Grandma made me memorize the presidents to the tune of a song.

I could bust them out without the stupid song. “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Adams…” I rambled off all the names within two minutes. When I was finished, I sat down.

Every student in the room was gaping at me as if I was an alien or something.

Nixon walked slowly and purposefully toward my desk.

Crap. I probably pissed him off because I was smart and not stupid. But what else was I going to do during home school? Watch TV?

His boots clicked against the smooth concrete floor. Finally, he stopped in front of my desk. I looked up and waited for his reprimand.

He smiled. A real smile. Not one that made me want to inflict harm on his person, but one that revealed to me how ridiculously handsome he was. Man, that lip ring was distracting against his white teeth and dimples.

“Nice boots.” He looked down and then walked back up to the front of the class.

“First person who does exactly what New Girl just did earns an A for the day.”

Hands shot up around the room. Apparently I wasn’t Trace anymore. Well, that was short lived.

For the next hour I watched while other students tried and failed to copy my performance.

Class was finally dismissed.

I grabbed my book bag. I’d ordered it online a few months back in hopes that it would help me fit in. It was leather and cost way more than I knew Grandpa could afford. I shuffled out the door but Nixon’s voice stopped me.

“Are those Win’s?” he asked.

I paused in the doorway. I was the last student to leave. I turned on my heel and glared at him. “Yes.”

“Are they from my sister?”

“No.” I felt my nostrils flaring.

“Did you buy them?”

“No.”

“Who are they from?”

I shrugged.

“Mature.” He snorted and threw his hands in the air. “Can’t we have a simple conversation? Who bought you the boots, Trace?”

“The boot fairy,” I replied and stomped off suddenly, glad Chase gave me something so awesome that even Nixon would take notice.

The next two classes were easy. I’m happy to announce that Nixon made no appearances. I looked down at my watch. It was already time for lunch. Monroe instructed me to walk to the cafeteria and hang a left immediately before I came to the main two doors. I did as she said and noticed a small door on the side. I waved my card across it and the door opened.

To a restaurant.

And not just any restaurant. This was no McDonalds. No. A chandelier hung over my head as I walked through the curtain. Leather wallpaper lined the walls. Beautiful wood coverings went halfway up each wall. The lighting was dim. It seriously felt like I just stepped into a different country. Candles were lit, and I nearly crapped myself when I saw a violinist sitting in the corner playing music. This was a joke, it had to be.

Phoenix, Nixon, Monroe, Tex, and Chase were sitting at a large table in the middle. Chase waved me over. I gulped and followed him.

Nixon kept his eyes down.

Monroe nudged him in the side but he still wouldn’t look up.

“Holy shit!” Phoenix slapped his hand on the table. “Don’t tell me those are from the 2013 collection! What the hell, man! You been holding out on us?” He threw his fork at Chase.

Chase’s eyes warmed as he met mine, and then he pushed away from the table. I looked at Monroe for support. She nodded her head.

I bit my lip and stepped right into Chase’s arms. Crap. I was breaking another rule, but maybe those were more Nixon’s rules than Chase’s. Shaking, I pulled back and finally gaining courage, kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for the boots.”