Page 25 of Forget Me Twice

It will give me a much clearer picture than if I only networked during parties or mixers. It’s common for people to swap out a series of masks during gatherings, which obviously skews my intel. Doesn’t matter whether it’s for business, friendship, or sex.

At Roxborough Academy, I’m going to assume most seniors are horndogs like me, and that it’s usually for the latter.

* * *

Despite my best efforts,however, my spot in English Lit by the door doesn’t afford me much in the way of eavesdropping, and lip reading only gets me so far.

It’s in the following period, during Calculus, that I at last catch wind of a conversation worth listening into.

Dakota and Parker are one row ahead of me, their beautifully groomed heads together as they chat animatedly, happily ignoring the droning voice of Mr Lomack.

I glance up, taking inCresley Lomack, 41. Single. Living with his elderly mother. Enthusiastic Hummel collector. He’s about as interesting to watch and listen to as drying paint. The human equivalent of the color beige. He’s been firmly on myProbably Notlist since I first looked into him.

His tall, rigid form is still facing away from the room as he furiously chalks out the semester’s syllabus on the board.

I fix my eyes and ears back on the cheerleaders in front of me.

“Looks like Tristan finally decided. It’s this Saturday night, at the Guardhouse,” Parker is saying in a bored tone, scrolling idly through an open group chat on her phone.

Dakota pulls her own phone out, sliding it open to her messages and typing. “The Welcome Back party isalwaysat the Guardhouse. What was all the hush-hush and the suspense about then?”

Parker shrugs, flicking a mass of blonde hair back over one shoulder as she does. “I think Sloane was hoping Tristan would move it to his Dad’s place. You know how big the guest wing is. And it’s got that massive pool.”

“Looks like we’re stuck near campus again, then,” Dakota sighs.

“I don’t really care where it is, so long as I get a chance to take Callum for a ride again. He’s even bigger and hotter than he was at the beginning of the summer.”

Interesting.

So at least one of the Rox Boys has beefed up. I wonder if that’s intentional. They would need an Enforcer if they are serious about stepping out as a proper crew. Callum is a big guy. He would definitely suit such a role.

Parker has her camera open now, checking out her makeup.

Shit.

I quickly drop my focus back down to the page of notes I’ve been pretending to take, but because I’m such a lucky motherfucker, she catches a glimpse of me sitting behind them, regardless.

She spins, a sour look taking over her pretty face as she deliberately looks me up and down. Sloane would be so very proud, she’s nailed that organic condescending lookdown.

“The fuck do you want, New Girl? Or should I say Dead Girl Walking?” Both girls now have matching smirks, so confident that my little showdown this morning has signed my social death warrant.

Plastering on a serene smile, I shoot Parker a wink and a finger gun, as if she’s sharing the jokewithme, as if I’mnotthat I’m the butt of it.“Clever, Minion #1.”

It’s obvious Parker doesn’t know what to do with my nonchalance, so she rewards me with an epic scowl instead. Her blue eyes darken with disdain as she sneers, “Sloane’s right, youarecrazy.”

I place my hand on my chest like a smitten lover, pulling my brows together in a hopeful look. “Aww, she said that about me?”

Dakota blinks once before exchanging a confused look with Parker. “Psycho,” she says under her breath before they both turn their backs on me.

Their shoulders are tense as they both hunch over their phones, fingers flying across their keyboards.

Well, today is goingswimmingly.

Not sure how many times I can fuck this Front Man thing up in one day, but I am off to a solid fucking start in setting down the gold standard.

Some days I wish they’d burnt out the sarcasm part of my brain when they were taking me apart.

I slump back into my seat, careful to keep the outward smile in place, because inside, my wretched brain is starting up its usual internal cacophony. Lomack’s dry ramblings, so easy to tune out before, now send a wave of prickles cascading over my scalp.

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