Fake It 'Til You Break It(9)

He had Sandra in tunnel vision, a tunnel that leads straight down his shaft.

I mean, he was enjoying her just as much, his groans... deep and exhilarated as he chased his release.

The way his—

“Your skin’s growing warm, D.” Nico pulls me out of my thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” he whispers, the teasing edge in his heady voice not missed.

The way he studies me with such piercing scrutiny has my toes curling in my shoes to keep focus, and it makes me wonder...

How ‘lost in her’ was he really, if the entire time he was aware of my prying eyes?

“Am I interrupting something?”

My head flies right to find Trent standing near the hood of my car, some sort of drinks in his hands.

Eyes wide in shock, and a stupid grin on his lips, he gawks at his best friend and me.

Nico, though, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge Trent’s presence.

I roll my tongue over my teeth before glancing back to him.

He keeps his hazardous gaze locked on me the entire time, but if I still knew the boy in front of me, I’d swear humor swims deep within them.

Yeah, he knows what I was thinking.

Nico licks his lips, nods a little, then moves for his buddy. “Catch you in class, D.”

Catch me thinking about your perfect form? Please don’t!

I groan internally, dropping my head against the car, but quickly remember I need to thank him if not apologize.

“Nico, wait!” I call out.

He freezes mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. Of course, he doesn’t bother turning all the way around but nods for Trent to keep walking, so I move toward him.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

He faces forward. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes at his back, walking as he does. “Well, I’m sorry for being bitchy when you were being helpful.”

He scoffs, pushes the door open and shifts to hold it with his back, indicating with a jerk of his chin for me to step through.

My eyes lock with his as I pass him, and he drops his head against the small glass window. “See you in class, D.”

Something in my stomach stirs, but I don’t say anything, only nod and keep past him.

Trent catches up to me around the corner. “Okay, what did I miss?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“That bad?” he jokes.

“Well, your brooding bestie likely hates me more now.” I look to him, giving a big innocent smile.

He scoffs, shaking the nasty looking green drink in his hands. “Trust me, he don’t hate you.”

Right as he says it, Nico comes around the corner, takes one look at us and glares.

I laugh, hitting Trent in the stomach as I walk off. “But he doesn’t hate me.”

Trent lifts his hands, grinning and moves away to meet his angrily awaiting friend.

I head to first period, making it right as the bell rings, the whole way reminding myself to forget about the scene in the hot tub, knowing for a fact... I won’t.

From there, the day goes by rather quickly, each class getting deeper into lectures now that the new school year is in full swing, so there was no time to sit and be embarrassed over everything with Nico, who doesn’t so much as glance my way when I drop into the chair beside him in chemistry.

Mr. Brando, thankfully, gets right to it, clapping his hands to gain the students’ full attention. “I won’t say from who, but counting all five of my classes, I have received a total of twenty-one emails from students asking for new partners.” He shakes his head, disappointed.

The scoff from Nico couldn’t be more obvious – or loud. Asshole.

His friends glance our way with light chuckles, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t acknowledge the glare from his ex, who in a horrible twist of events is the new teacher’s aide during our class period, either.

Clearly, he assumes I was one of them when truth be told I didn’t even bother, not after the teacher’s comment when I first tried.

Mr. Brando folds his arms in front of him. “A little insight for you on me as a teacher? I like to work on more than my required curriculum. The first week is spent going over necessary review, yes, but I also use that time to study each of you as individuals. Everyone, especially those who aren’t so sure about the experience you will have with the person you were assigned to, look around the room. Check out each pairing in this class.”

I do as asked and am surprised by the clear line he drew between each duo. At first glance, it’s completely stereotypical – athletes with drama students, shy with exuberant, goth with preppy – but his next words prove this was his exact intent.

“I paired everyone in here with someone as opposite, visually and on paper, as I could find, some may seem subtler than others, but I assure you, there is a reason. I started by looking at who you requested, then went over your schedules from freshman year to now. I know all your extracurriculars, the ones the school knows about anyway, spoke to your past teachers, coaches, and here you are.”

I spot Ella Marshal with Samuel Banks in the front corner, and my brows lift in surprise.

Samuel is a rude, cocky basketball player who thinks he’s godly and pays no mind to those he considers less than him. And Ella, shit, I don’t think she’s ever even made eye contact with a guy before.