Fake Fiancée(13)

He’d probably read up on Cliff Notes before our dates.

I inhaled a deep breath. Prepare thyself for drama, Sunny.

He halted in front of my desk. His usually perfectly styled auburn hair was in disarray as if he’d recently raked his hand through it. Long on top, he wore it in a dramatic swept back fashion that reminded me of Edward Cullen. It had been a little joke between us—Bart, my sparkly vampire.

Sparkly liar, I reminded myself.

I did my best to keep my face calm. But seeing him up close, taking in his chiseled jawline and the lean body that had been my first, made a knot rise in my throat. Sadness mingled with hurt swept over me. We’d never had closure. Not really. I’d simply walked out of the party and never spoken to him again. Since that day, he’d left me over fifty voicemails and had sent me hundreds of texts. I’d never listened or read a single one. Once you’ve seen betrayal with your own eyes, there’s nothing left to say. I had too much pride to listen to his excuses.

Last year, it had taken me three months before I was ready to go all the way with him, and the first night we’d had sex, he’d been gentle and kind. By six months into our relationship I was planning a future with him. I’d follow him to whatever team he got called up for.

Then he started pulling away . . .

“You kissed him,” Bart pointed at Max in disbelief, “at the toga party? When we were dating? That’s interesting since I recall you saying you had to study that night. You’d been cheating on me the entire time.”

I replayed Max’s story back in my head. Oh. Bart thought I’d kissed Max before he’d cheated on me. My teeth clamped together. How dare he?

I shrugged, feigning coolness.

He came in closer, and Max stood, his body straightening to his full height, towering over everyone, Bart included. “Watch it. I don’t like how close you’re standing to Sunny.”

Bart turned to glare at him, his ears red, a clear sign he was angry. He shoved his fingers into Max’s chest. “Mind your own damn business.”

Max’s face turned into a block of ice. Ominous and cold. I imagined that was how he looked at the defensive players whenever they lined up on the field. “I’m not letting you yell at my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bart sneered, throwing his hands up. “You don’t even know her. And for your information, I’d never hurt Sunny. Can’t say the same about you.” He looked pointedly at Max’s clenched fists. “You’re the one who likes to fight,” he said, obviously referring to the altercation between Max and Felix last year.

“That’s right. Now get back to your seat before I shove my fist in your face,” Max said softly, his eyes narrowed.

“I’m not afraid of you, asshole—”

“Everything okay back there?” Professor Whitt had walked in and was staring at them from behind wire spectacles. He frowned and adjusted them, his eyes darting from Max’s face to Bart’s.

“Yes, sir,” Max said, but never took his gaze off Bart.

Neither of them moved.

“Sit down,” I hissed, directing it at both of them. They were acting like petulant children fighting over a toy. And Max and I weren’t even a real couple! Insanity.

Thank goodness, Bart stalked back to his seat.

“I can fight my own battles with him,” I whispered to Max as he sat back down. “Don’t do that again.”

He ignored me, his lips pressed together, his movements sharp yet tautly controlled as he took out his laptop, letting it plop loudly on the desk.

Okay. Fine. He was angry. I got that. But why?

I focused back on unpacking my things, feeling as weak as a wet noodle.

Whitt got down to business calling roll and laying down the law about tardiness and absences. Inwardly, I groaned. I’d done my best in here last semester, but after I’d missed a few days when Mimi had gotten her knee surgery, it had been impossible to catch up. As a person in the arts, science and math were my kryptonite.

The room got quiet. Everyone was staring at me.

“Miss Blaine . . . you with us today?” Whitt said.

“Yes.” I straightened in my seat.

“Good.” He nodded at me and sent me a small smile. With dark wavy hair and a nice face, he was good-looking for an older guy. I’d heard he was actually a nice person, just ridiculously hard.

“Welcome. Let’s hope you pay attention this semester. Tell me, Miss Blaine, what organ is the most important in the human body?”

Crap! He didn’t waste any time.

I flipped the pages in my textbook, skimming over the material he’d assigned through email last week. My anxiety shot up. Maybe instead of pulling down wallpaper I should have read my assignment. “The heart?” Sounded good.

“Why?” he asked.

I chewed on my bottom lip. Think, Sunny, think! “It pumps blood and provides nutrients. We can’t live without it. It’s the center of our—”

“Wrong. We can live without it with a heart transplant.” His finger landed on Max. “You. Mr. Kent. What’s the most important organ?”

Max adjusted a pair of tortoiseshell glasses he’d slipped on at some point, looking suave and cool as if the altercation with Bart had never happened. “The brain, sir. It controls vision, hearing, smell, balance, learning, memory, and a few things I’m sure I’ve forgotten. It communicates by using neurons, and it’s estimated we have billions.”