Page 261 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol 4
“You’re incorrigible.”
“No, my name’s Felix.” He held out his hand.
I laughed. “Brooklyn.”
“Brooklyn Sanders. Yeah, I know. Coach Carter calls attendance every day.”
Right.But I hadn’t known his name. I was always distracted worrying that I would miss the teacher calling my name and totally embarrass myself. I hated saying “here.” It was the worst part of this class. Why didn’t Coach Carter just learn our names?
“Also, you’re on everyone’s radar. Scholarship students always get a lot of flak. But you’re also on the top of Isabella’s shit list. Double red flag.”
“How do you know I’m on Isabella’s shit list?”
He shrugged. “Heard about the party on Friday night.”
Oh God.Hearing about it was probably worse than witnessing it. Maybe. They were probably just equally bad. “Then why are you talking to me?”
“Because I don’t care about Isabella. Or how much money you have. I’m deeper than that, newb.” He lightly nudged me with his elbow.
I smiled. Felix was only the third person to be nice to me at this school. The fact that he was doing it even though he knew Isabella would give him hell? Even nicer. And I wasn’t atall opposed to having another friend here. Besides, I found it incredibly easy to talk to him. “Deeper, huh?”
“Yeah. The deepest. I’ll show you with a question. Wait for it…What’s your favorite color?”
I laughed. “That’s not deep. And I need to get back to running.” I stood up.
“Fine. If you insist.” He stood up too.
“Are you actually getting off your butt to run a mile?”
“Well, apparently I have to in order to learn your favorite color.” He followed me onto the track.
Instead of sprinting ahead like a show-off, he set his pace with me. I was right. He definitely didn’t just sit around all the time, because he wasn’t out of breath at all.
“Do you play sports?” I asked.
“You can’t ask me a question before you answer the one I asked first.”
I thought about my home back in Delaware. When my mother was healthy she was always in the kitchen singing while she cooked. Some of my favorite memories were in that kitchen. The walls were bright yellow like the sun. “Yellow.”
“Good to know. And no, I don’t play organized sports. I’m not an asshole.”
I laughed. “What does being an ass have to do with organized sports?”
“Favoritism. Elitists. Literally slapping other guys on the ass. Not my thing.”
I’d never thought about it that way.
“Don’t tell me you’re on the volleyball team or something. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“No. Organized sports aren’t my thing either.” Maybe they would have been in a different life. But I didn’t have enough time.
“Well, we’re on a running team of two now. So if you ever feel like you’re missing out on the ass slapping of organized sports, you’re welcome to slap mine anytime.” He winked at me.
I started laughing so hard I had to stop running. “No,” I said through another fit of laughter.
He ran backward so he could still look at me. “Had to ask. See you at lunch, newb.” He waved and ran toward the gym where Coach Carter was calling us back inside.
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