Counting Down with You(9)
Nandini looks as bemused as I feel. “Maybe?”
Cora is stretching her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of them through the back door’s window. “I bet his asshole brother has something to do with it.”
“Not everything is Xander’s fault,” Nandini says, nudging her.
Cora harrumphs, her eyes narrowed at the door.
When it opens again, we all watch with bated breath, but only Miss Cannon steps through.
She gives the entire class a pointed look. “I trust you all had a productive discussion in my absence.”
Everyone mutters an affirmative, but I doubt anyone discussed anything aside from Ace and Xander.
When class finally ends, Miss Cannon calls me over. I walk slowly to her desk, ignoring the too-fast beat of my heart as I try to anticipate how the conversation will play out.
“How did it go yesterday?” she asks with a bright grin, and my brain short-circuits.
She doesn’t know.
For a moment, I consider telling the truth. Then I imagine her face wiped clean of joy and abandon that idea. My anxiety demands I refrain from disappointing Miss Cannon. She has enough on her plate, with over a hundred students to monitor each day.
“It’s a work in progress,” I say, which is the truth. He did take the study guide. “I haven’t quite gotten a feel for the situation yet. I have high hopes, though.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Miss Cannon releases a low sigh. “You’re an angel, Karina. Thank you so much for doing this.”
“It’s no big deal,” I say, waving a hand. “I’ll keep you updated.”
On my way out, I falter at the sight of a packet of papers in the recycling bin outside the classroom.
No way.
I march into the hallway and fish it out of the otherwise-empty bin, staring at it incredulously. He threw out my study guide? I know it was a little unrefined, but this is ridiculous.
Nandini and Cora meet me in the hallway, looking between the study guide and my face.
“Jesus. I guess they’re both assholes,” Cora says, shaking her head. “At least they make good eye candy. Whatever. On the bright side, that means you’re free after school today, right? I know we were going to work on our Italian project over FaceTime this weekend, but since we’re already here...”
I blink at them, still grappling with the fact that Ace tossed my study guide away. “I—but my parents...”
“They’re not around,” Nandini says, bumping hips with me. She steals the study guide from me, unzips my bag, and unceremoniously shoves it inside. “Plus your Dadu thinks you’re tutoring after school anyway, right?”
“I mean, I guess,” I say, licking my lips uncertainly. “But I—”
“Come on,” Cora says, pouting at me. “Shouldn’t we make the most of your time? We could even grab food afterward. It’s not like you ever go to Pre-Med Society anyway.”
“It’s not my fault it’s so boring,” I say, and realize they’re both laughing at me. I sigh, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Yeah, okay. It’s not like anyone will notice I’m gone.”
“Hey, maybe we’ll run into Ace,” Cora says, pulling me down the hall, in the direction of the cafeteria. There’s a sharp grin on her face. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“No,” I say and pray that Ace stays far, far away from the library today. “That would not be fun.”
6
T-MINUS 26 DAYS
At the library, the three of us split up to find different books for the Italian project. I’m in charge of books on the Italian economy, and I find them quickly, too used to navigating these aisles.
I sit down at our table, opening a fresh page and writing out the project’s requirements.
A shadow looms over me, taller than both Nandini and Cora. I turn around slowly, and my eyes almost bulge out of my head when I see Alistair “Ace” Clyde leaning against a bookshelf, watching me.
My first stupid thought is: Why is he so tall?
My second stupid thought is: Who wears a leather jacket with a designer sweater?
My third stupid thought is: Why is he looking at me like that?
Ace is as beautiful as everyone says he is. I’ve seen him in class and around the hallways, but I’ve never been the subject of his intense stare before.
His skin is incredibly pale, and the first metaphor that comes to mind is that he’s moonlight woven into a human being. It sounds pretentious, but it’s true. His dark hair—on the edge between brown and black—is messy and rumpled as if he spends hours running his hands through it. His eyes are some strange kaleidoscopic mix of green and blue, and they twinkle in the faint sunlight that comes through the dusty library windows.
He shares the same strong jaw as his older brother, and his eyebrows are thicker than mine, which is saying something. Unlike his brother, he’s tall and lanky. He probably has nine inches on me, at the very least, since I’m five-two.
A lollipop stick hangs in the corner of his mouth, and I try not to fixate on it. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m staring at his lips.
As if he can read my thoughts, he reaches up to take the lollipop out, and I see his fingers are covered in rings of all shapes, sizes, and colors.
“Karina Ahmed?”