A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(7)

I face him fully and take the note from his fingers, hating how he tightens his hold on it for a second too long, making me tug. Pulling me even closer to him. He eventually lets me take it, his lips curved, his gaze dark.

“Thank you,” I say weakly, turning toward the door.

“Bye, Wren,” he calls once I’ve pushed the door open.

I don’t answer him as I flee.





THREE





WREN





The rest of my day goes by normally. I worried about spending lunch with Maggie at our Honors Society meeting, but she ended up spending it with Franklin, so I didn’t have to deal with her asking me about my conversation with Fig.

A conversation that’s left me unsettled. It’s like he was trying to communicate with me with unspoken words. Implying one thing while saying something else. I didn’t like his tone. His familiarity. He knows what I’m about.

He knows I’m not interested in boys or drinking or sex. That’s not my scene. It never has been. I’m a good girl.

Those kinds of things…scare me.

When I walk into my seventh period class, the last one of the day, I’m excited. Psychology is my favorite class. I love learning how people act and think, and the motives behind our actions. It’s so interesting. Today is when Ms. Skov announces our last project for the semester, and she usually has us work in groups. There are a couple of girls in this class that I’ve worked on group projects with before, and I know it’ll be easy to work with them again. They’ll at least carry the workload equally with me.

Crew is already there, the only other class I have with him, as well as Ezra and Malcolm. They’re all three sitting together in the back of the classroom, surrounded by girls. Girls who roll their skirts up so high they practically flash their underwear, and they have so much makeup on their faces I’m surprised they can open their eyes all the way. There’s too much mascara on their lashes weighing them down.

I really shouldn’t be so mean in my thoughts. It’s not kind. I blame it on it being a Monday. The tension between Maggie and me—and Maggie and Mr. Figueroa. The conversation with Fig.

It’s all so unsettling.

“Okay, everyone, listen up!” Skov slams the door behind her once she’s entered the room, striding toward her desk. She’s fluid movement and rhythmic noise, the bangles on her wrists clanging as she moves her hands. And she likes to move her hands a lot.

We all settle down, sitting face forward and paying attention. Everyone respects Skov. She’s fun and interesting and makes us excited to learn, which can be a rarity, even at a private school that pays a generous salary to have the best educators on staff.

“As you’re all well aware of, it’s time to begin our final project for the semester. I took the time over Thanksgiving break to really think it over and I came to the conclusion that after doing pretty much the same damn thing for the last eleven years…I’m bored.” Ms. Skov glares when Crew and his clan hoot and holler from the back. “Settle down, boys.”

They go quiet and I can’t help but glance at them over my shoulder, a smirk already on my face. It disappears when I catch Crew glaring at me, those blue eyes freezing me in place.

I hurriedly turn back around, clutching my hands together on top of my desk.

“I decided to change it up. You’re going to work on your project on a one-on-one basis. As in, you’ll be paired up with someone.” She pauses. “And I’m the one who assigns you your project partner.”

A collective groan rings through the room, though I still remain quiet. And a little nervous. Hopefully Skov won’t pair me with someone too horrible.

Nerves eat at me when she starts rattling off names. I realize quickly she’s pairing us up with someone who is our polar opposite. There are more groans. A couple of curse words dropped.

My heart is in my throat when she finally says my name.

“Wren Beaumont, you’re going to work with…”

The pause lasts all of two seconds, but it feels like a lifetime.

“…Crew Lancaster.”

What?

The word actually flies from my lips. I said it out loud, when I didn’t mean to.

Oh God.

“Lucky fucker,” I hear Ezra say, and I close my eyes in shame at the word he just used. I hate it when the boys curse.

And they know it.

Ms. Skov finishes with her list of partners and clears her throat loudly, causing the voices to go quiet. She scans the room as she starts pacing in front of our rows of desks.

“I know this isn’t what you envisioned, but let me tell you what your assignment is. It’ll make more sense when you hear.” She stops in front of my desk, because, of course, I sit in the front row. “I paired you with someone I knew would be the opposite of you. I want you all to interview each other. Study each other carefully, because you’re going to take all of that information you learn and give a speech on why and what makes your project partner tick.”

There are more groans. I sink in my seat, gnawing on my lower lip. There is no way I’m going to tell Crew a single thing about myself. He hates me. Whatever information I give him, he’ll find some way to use it against me eventually.

He’s never done anything like that to me before, so maybe my thoughts are just…extreme.