Page 4 of Undeniable

I gave her my best “fuck off” glare but quickly turned my attention back to Ms. Willmore. Getting called out in the middle of class was very uncharacteristic and I didn’t want it to happen again.

“Ivy, you will be partnered up with James for the final project.”

What the—

“James?” I questioned. I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but annoyance was already bubbling to the surface, and all Ms. Willmore could do was nod like she hadn’t just sentenced me to doing the project by myself.

“What the hell happened to picking our own partners?” I muttered under my breath, which received another scathing look from Ms. Willmore, whose face was likely to stick like that.

Beside me, Shelby’s shoulders bounced as she barely restrained her laughter, but my eyes brushed right over her until I found James tucked in the corner of the classroom near the back. It was his usual spot where he sat with a few other baseball players who were also, unfortunately, in our class.

James was reclined in his desk, his long legs stretched out into the aisle. The end of his pencil tapped idly against his lower lip, which was upturned in a half smirk. His blond hair was mussed as usual, and his blue eyes were trained right on me.

I swallowed around the frustration sitting in my throat and let him see everything I was feeling all over my face.

My irritation was nothing new to James, so instead of being concerned, his smile only widened, almost in excitement.

James and I had been the victims of our mothers’ lifelong friendship. They’d grown up in Willowwood together and settled down at nearly the same time. They’d bought houses right next door to each other and James’s mom, Julie, popped him out only three months before my mom had me and Forrest, my twin brother.

Because of our mothers’ friendship, we’d basically all three grown up together. They were always at our house for holidays or special occasions and vice versa. And I would’ve considered James one of my best friends until we made it to middle school and the idea of him and my brother hanging out with a girl apparently became repulsive.

He’d only gotten worse since then.

According to my mother, James was smart but didn’tapplyhimself. He got decent grades, but his focus had been, and likely always would be, sports. Particularly baseball. And girls.

Without saying a word to him, I knew he’d saddle me with the entire project, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Psst!” Shelby whispered and nudged my foot with her own.

“What?” I snapped.

She widened her eyes. “You should probably stop staring.”

Shit. My cheeks flushed again, and I returned my attention to the paper in front of me with the details of the project. I hadn’t meant to stare at him—I was lost in my own thoughts, and if Shelby noticed, I was sure James had too.

I read over the project details once again: pick an influential Willowwood resident, past or present, and create a presentation detailing their accomplishments and successes as well as their impact on the city, state, and/or country.

It was a “gimme” final history project, but it was also a good portion of our final grade.

I was already brainstorming potential residents when Ms. Willmore asked if there were any questions. She called on someone behind me, and I didn’t raise my head to see who it was until I heard their voice.

“What is the likelihood of being able to switch partners?”

My head whipped around and my jaw dropped at James’s question. What the hell was wrong with him? I’d be the best partner. Anyone would be lucky to have me as their partner.

Ms. Willmore scoffed, and I swore I saw her roll her eyes. “Zero, Mr. Larson. You should be thankful you were paired up with Ms. Sharpe. And unless anyone else has any real questions, I’ll see everyone on Monday.”

She clapped her hands only a moment before the bell rang, releasing us to lunch.

We all collectively stood and gathered our belongings.

“Are you gonna…?” Shelby asked, hiking her thumb over her shoulder and motioning to James, who was leisurely throwing a folder and spiral notebook into his backpack.

“Yes,” I gritted out. Shelby nodded once, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and stepped past me. But not before whispering, “Good luck.”

I wasn’t the one that was going to need the luck.

I stepped around desks and beelined for James, who was casually slapping his friends’ hands and saying his goodbyes. One of them mentioned he’d see James at some party later that night, and I looked around the rest of the classroom to make sure we were alone. Even Ms. Willmore had already headed to the cafeteria.

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