Page 11 of Forbidden Lessons

She frowns at me. “Which part?”

Geez, how long did I zone out for?

“Good. Class dismissed.” Rooke flicks his fingers toward the door, a wry smile on his lips. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Students pause to put away their laptops or speak to a classmate, but most head straight for the door. Kai is already on his phone, a deep eleven between his brows as he frowns. I stand, my notepad smothered against my chest. The redhead nods at me before she leaves, and I quickly turn to follow her.

“A moment please, Pink Notepad.”

I freeze in my tracks when I realize Professor Rooke is speaking to me. When I glance over my shoulder, his eyebrows twitch up as he drops his chin. “Yes. You.”

For some reason, I glance at Kai. And his smirk has just doubled in size.

Oh, God.

What are the chances there’s a fault line right below this building that can open up and swallow me whole?

Chapter 4

Kai

I’ve been dreading this day, but now that it’s finally here, it’s a fucking relief.

Little Miss Heavenly AKA Haven Lee. AHC’s newest grant student.

Aw, look at that. She bought a little notepad and everything, just like a real college student.

But she’s not.

She hasn’t earned this. Not like I have.

I spent my summers being tutored, writing mock SAT exams until I dreamt about them in my sleep, getting migraines because I spent all day staring at a laptop.

What was Haven doing?

Fuck knows, because she pissed off out of Agony Hollow the moment things stopped going her way.

How the hell did she get a grant, anyway?

Sure, the Haven I knew wasn’t an idiot. But she was much too busy dreaming about wedding dresses and fairytale houses in Europe to care about education. Far as I remember, they almost held her back a year in middle school.

She doesn’t belong here. Doesn’t even deserve to be here.

Absurdly high admission fees gatekeep this institution for a reason. This college isn’t for losers like her. Agony Hollow nurtures visionaries and leaders, the top one percent of the one percent.

Haven is the mud I scrape off my Balenciaga sneakers after my morning run.

The mean, childish,sluttymud I?—

“You must be my scholarship student. Miss Lee, isn’t it?” Rooke’s smooth voice cuts off the thought. Good. I’m done thinking about Haven.

I pretend to be busy on my phone, but I’m watching them with voyeuristic glee. She looks panicked. If I was still her friend, I’ll tell her not to sweat it. It’s just the Rooke Effect kicking in.

“Yup!” she bleats.

Rooke crosses his arms over his chest. “And you have been informed that passing my class is a prerequisite for maintaining your funding?”

“Yup.”

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