Fake It 'Til You Break It(10)

Right now, Samuel is leaning back in his seat, trying to hide his phone between his legs while Ella is leaning as far away as possible, arms folded in her lap, head slightly down. It’s almost cruel to put them together.

But me and Nico? Alex and Evan? What, were we the leftovers? Our pairings don’t seem so extreme now.

We run in the same crowd, we’re both athletes.

His best friend is dating one of mine, that more than screams ‘same circle’.

I glance at Nico, and what do you know, he’s already giving me those side-eyes he’s practiced in, not bothering to shift his head my way.

Mr. Brando starts talking again, so I face forward.

“There will be many times in life where you are forced to get along with, not just tolerate, someone opposite of you or someone you frankly don’t like for whatever reason.” He walks to the front of the classroom, scanning over everyone. “I like to think part of my job is to assist you in seeing beyond the hair, the clothes, the crowd, and reach the person underneath. That being said, please place your materials back in your bags.”

I frown but do as he asks, glancing around the room to see the same confusion on the other’s faces.

“A few days a week, our class time will be spent in different areas of the school. Phones will be left on the tops of the desks, where I can see them”—he knocks his knuckles on Samuel’s side of the table and his head snaps up from his screen—“and the fifty-three minutes of class time will be spent simply getting to know each other. I have a prompt for you for the first few days, but you don’t have to use it. You can be inventive. Anything you wish to speak about, you may, so long as everyone remains respectful. Today we will be in the quad, neutral ground. So, ladies and gentlemen, phones face down, and make your way out the door, grab a paper from me on your way.”

Everyone does as we’re asked and we shuffle out and toward the quad.

People start dropping onto picnic tables and grassy areas, some shifting uncomfortably while others have no choice but to follow steps behind their demanding partners.

I glance around, noticing Evan and Alex walk clear to the other side.

“Is here okay?” I ask Nico. We’re only steps out the door, but already at the edge of the grass.

Nico doesn’t say anything, but sits and pats the ground beside him for me to join, like I wasn’t already about to.

I get set to read over the paper, but Nico’s hand comes down to cover it and I look to him with a frown.

He quirks a dark brow.

“What?”

“Can’t ask your own questions, things you might be curious about?”

“Who says I’m curious about anything?”

His jaw tics, and after a few seconds of silence, Nico snatches the paper from my hands, crumpling it in his own.

I gape at him. “What’s your problem?”

His gaze narrows. “Let’s do this a little different, yeah?”

“Different how?”

“Mr. B said it’s about misconception, right?” Nico starts, licking his lips. “So, tell me, D. What do you see when you look at me?”

“I...” I start, but quickly trail off.

What do I see?

I look from his hair, shaved at the side, perfect little mess at the top, to his deep cocoa-colored eyes and long lashes. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt, nothing fancy, and no sleeves – to show off his arms maybe? And I mean, they’re worth the show. Not bulging but clear evidence of the weight training class the team is required to take zero period, and they only tighten, becoming more prominent when he moves them around. He wears perfectly fitted jeans – not skinny but not baggy, and his shoes always match his shirt in some way.

My eyes roam over my form, and I begin to equate his perfection to my own body. I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin, but more and more my mom likes to comment about how I’m still a ‘work in progress’.

“D.”

My stare pulls back to Nico, who observes me with unreadable eyes.

“Why do you think he paired us together?” I blurt out.

His frown is quick.

“Look at these other partners, I’d bet they’ve never spoken to each other. Me and you, though?”

Nico simply watches me, his expression as ungiving as ever, so I glance away.

Way to put yourself on the playboy’s level, Demi.

“Look at me.” His voice is an easy command.

I do, and disapproval stares back. “Why you comparing yourself?”

“I wasn’t,” I deny too quickly.

His head drops back. “You’re lying.”

I’m clearly caught, so I give an extremely overdramatic sigh as my affirmation and shake my head.

I swear he swallows a small laugh, though when I quickly search for proof he’s human after all, it’s gone.

He pauses a moment, then asks, “What do you know about me?”

“You... play football, have for years.”

He nods. “You dance, hip-hop mostly.”

Common knowledge.

I nod, willing myself not to go where I expected him to start.

It doesn’t work and the words escape. “You have a thing for sex in water.”

He doesn’t even blink. “You’ve never had sex.”