Page 105 of Not Fooling Anyone

“No.” There’s no use in lying. I obviously didn’t or I’d have some clue about what he’s talking about.

Somehow, his face hardens even more. It’s difficult to look menacing when wearing a bowtie, but he manages it with aplomb. “You may leave, then. This class is for students who want to be here.”

My bottom lip trembles for a moment before I firm it. “Look,” I blurt out, “I’m having a hard time because I just found out the guy I’m seeing isn’t who I thought he was.”

The previous silence of the room sharpens even more. After an agonizingly long five seconds, Dr. Kroft clears his throat, the sound echoing off the walls.

Two rows down from me, a guy asks, “Like, he catfished you?”

I clench my fists then spring into action, gathering my notebook and pen to stuff them into my backpack.

“Sit down, Miss Adams,” the professor says as I stand. “I won’t call on you again.”

I cautiously sit, surprised he’s being lenient with me. For God’s sake, he locks students out of the room who are a minute late.

“But I expect you to have caught up on the reading by next class.”

I nod, sinking down in my seat, thankful when he calls on the boy who asked about catfishing.

I’ve got to get this under control. I can’t let Ethan affect every aspect of my life.

He’s my Psych study partner now. His fake girlfriend in the lab. And that’s it.

That’s all that can be between us.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

ETHAN

Something is up.

I feel it in my gut. My bones. A soul-deep knowledge that something is wrong with Lexie.

She blew me off all weekend, claiming she had to study or help Travis or start working at the new job she got at Kate’s Kitchen as a server. Anything but hang out with me.

I don’t want to be that clingy, needy guy, but this is kind of ridiculous. She can’t spare an hour or two for me?

Maybe I freaked her out taking things too far, too fast last week. Maybe we should take things at a slower pace and ease our way into a relationship. But this isn’t slow. This is a standstill.

I thought we were past this. I thought last Monday brought us closer. We were on the same page. But it’s like she set the book down and decided to browse a different shelf without telling me. What the hell happened between us making out against my bedroom door and me leaving to go take my insulin shot?

All throughout Environmental Engineering, my class before Psych on Tuesdays, my mind is on Lexie. What I can do, what I can say to get her to talk to me. To get her to share what’s going on with her. How can I fix things if I don’t know what’s wrong?

She doesn’t arrive to class until the last minute again, just like last week. I keep my distance this time, waiting to see if she kisses me hello after days apart, if she greets me, if she even freaking acknowledges my presence, but nothing. It’s like I’m a ghost next to her, the Patrick Swayze to her Demi Moore, forever doomed to walk beside her unseen.

Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little melodramatic.

I cross my arms over my chest, stewing, unable to focus on what Dr. Clark’s saying as the class goes on, my heart sinking further and further the longer there’s silence between us. Not that Lexie and I normally speak during class, but it’s a comfortable silence, at least. Not this awkward tension that makes my skin crawl.

Maybe it’s just me feeling it, though.

After the longest hour and a half of my life, Dr. Clark calls class to an end and Lexie packs up her stuff at lightning speed.

I move with her as she tries to shoot past me, Amber and Christian blocking her from the other side.

“I’ll walk you to Russian Lit,” I tell her, not giving her any room for argument.

She still does, though. “It’s fine. You don’t have to.”

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