Page 21 of Lies Like Love

“So you go here?” Fel grips her notebook, radiating that same nervous energy I remember from when we met. Like she’s always on edge about how she’s coming across to people when she has nothing to worry about.

“Do now.”

It should be illegal to wear the school’s maroon uniform like she does. Her long red hair clashes with the color, but somehow, she’s perfect anyway.

“And you’re ditching class already?” Fel’s perfect eyebrow ticks upward.

“Study period.”

It’s a lie, and the smile Fel tries to bury tells me she sees straight through it, but she doesn’t argue. Her ocean-blue gaze moves to my feet resting on the table, and I can’t help but smile at how this girl gives everything away with her eyes.

Intrigue. Annoyance. It’s never been so easy to read someone. Either that or I’ve never been so curious.

“You’re one to talk?” I point out the fact that I’m not the only one in the library when the bell to class rang five minutes ago.

“Unlike you, this actually is my study period.”

I have no doubt she’s telling the truth because she doesn’t seem the type to rebel or go off course.

Her eyes once more move to where my feet are kicked up on the table, so I drop them to the floor and lean forward on it. “Well then, by all means, join me.”

It’s possible she’s smart enough to turn down the offer, but damn if I’m not happy when she drops into the seat across from me at the table instead.

She flips open a book that’s so thick it thumps when she cuts straight to the middle.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Calculus.” Her eyes avoid me as she rummages for a pencil and pretends to ignore that I’m here, even if her blushed cheeks give her away. “It’s study period, remember?”

“Don’t need to study.”

A look between irritation and interest claims her eyes. “Everyone needs to study.”

“My grades do fine without it.”

“Define, fine.”

“Good enough to keep me on the team.” I shrug.

“What team?”

“Football.”

She bites the corner of her perfect puffy lips, and while nothing has kept my interest like being on the field, I think watching her might dethrone my love of the game.

“So you play?” She’s all but forgotten the book in front of her, or the quiet library we shouldn’t be talking in, and I love that I pull her attention the way I do. Something about this girl with her fire-red hair gets my blood pumping.

“Since I was little.” I lean back in my chair and pop my knuckles, not missing how she’s examining the muscles in my forearms as I do. “Couldn’t pass up a socially acceptable excuse to hit people.”

She rolls her pretty eyes like she thinks I’m joking, and I wish I was. So I smile in return and bask in the glow of her cheeks, absorbing the innocence that leaks from her pores. Wishing it was enough to soak up the darkness that’s followed me around since I was born.

When we met, I might have told her there was no way she was an angel, but I’m no longer convinced. Because the girl calls out to me.

“Do you play any sports?”

She doesn’t look the type, but I’m not ready to let the conversation go.

“No. But my dad played football, so I understand the game.”

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