Page 22 of Face Me Off

“Do we have a deal?” I ask.

“Yes, we have a deal.” She points her finger toward me. “But it’s purely platonic. But what about a study spot?”

“I’ve got it covered. We’ll find a spot where no one will see us. The library has private study rooms on the top floor. Or the alcoves at the rec center. Hell, we could even hit up that 24-hour diner on Tiverton if we need to. Trust me, Maddy, discretion is my middle name.”

“You really think we can pull this off without anyone finding out?” she asks.

I nod, full of confidence. “Absolutely. We can be discreet. Just two students helping each other out. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Maddy nods, absentminded. “I swear to God, if this blows up in our faces…”

My smirk returns. “It won’t. Promise. So, when do you want to start? I’m free tonight if you are.”

“Eager much? Let’s start tomorrow. I’ve got other things planned for tonight.”

Why do I want to ask with who? It makes no difference to me.

“Tomorrow it is,” I agree, already looking forward to it. “Meet me at the library after your last class? We’ll grab one of those study rooms.”

She nods, adjusting her backpack. “Okay. But remember, this is strictly business. We’re here to study, not ... anything else.”

I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Scout’s honor. All work, no play.” I smirk, but as I walk away, I add, “Until you want your payment, that’s it.”

CHAPTER NINE

MADISON

“Why areyou wasting your time entering contests?”

I tap my pen against my notebook, stewing over last night’s conversation with Dad. I thought this late-night study session in the library with Ryan would be the distraction I needed to get Dad’s words out of my head, but it isn’t working.

“Now isn’t the time to mess with such drivel.”

Drivel!

He actually referred to my art as “drivel.”

The same argument we had over the summer drove me to Becky’s party. They want me entirely focused on schoolwork but fail to recognize that my artistic expression is my coping mechanism. It’s how I deal with stress, my feelings, and …everything. It keeps me sane.

Dad’s condescending dismissal proves he doesn’t know me at all. And I hate how much that bothers me. I’ve always tried being the dutiful daughter. Always sought approval that never came, but the one thing I thought they knew was how much my art meant to me.

But that’s a big fat negative.

And if the day wasn’t shitty enough, Ryan and I ran into Becky right before entering this study room. Why was she evenhere this late? I doubt she’ll be a problem, but her little “call me” signal she made behind Ryan’s back was annoying. As if I’d ever spill any secrets to her. She’d be the first to blast it to social media for the hits.

Ryan’s methodical page-turning pulls my attention back to our study session. His perfectly styled hair doesn’t move an inch as he leans over his color-coded notes, brow furrowed in concentration. His button-down shirt stretches across broad shoulders built from hours spent on the ice.

I bite my bottom lip as my pen stills. What would running my fingers through that neatly trimmed beard be like? To trace the lines of his strong jawline? I didn’t get a chance to touch him during the summer. And for that, I hold many regrets.

I shake my head as if the movement would banish the forbidden thoughts. Focus, Maddy. You’re here to study, not fantasize about your nemesis. But I have to hold back a laugh. What would Dear Old Dad think about me studying with Ryan? I guarantee he would disapprove.

“You okay over there?” Ryan’s deep voice breaks through my reverie. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ten minutes.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I’m fine. Just … processing.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Sure you are. Maybe if you actually wrote something down instead of doodling, you’d retain more information.”

I bristle at his tone, my fingers tightening around my pen. “I’ll have you know, Sorenson, that my ‘doodles’ help me remember complex concepts better than any of your fancy highlighters.”

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