Page 32 of Don't Love the Boy Next Door
“Fine.” I snatch the paper from him. He added a sixth page to the report, expanding on something I only touched on lightly. It’s actually not that bad, doesn’t sound like a caveman wrote it like I expected. The guy’s not as stupid as I pegged him to be.
He stands there as I read, and I can feel his eyes boring holes into my skull. My gaze snaps up. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have somewhere to be?” My eyes drift to the corner, where the girls are watching us. Ethan’s not giving them the time of day. It’s like they don’t exist to him. Hmm. Weird. Why isn’t he basking in all that glory?
He’s about to say something, but the bell rings. All the kids scatter to their classes like mice and it’s just Ethan and me in the halls.
He lifts a brow, nodding at the report. “Good stuff, huh?”
Yes, unfortunately. I lift my chin. “No, it’ll pull down our grade, so we should forget about it.” I crumple it, but he places his hand over mine.
“Nope,” he says. “We’re including it.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine, whatever. But the second we’re done with the report, you’re dead to me.”
His mouth drops open. Yeah, I said it, only because he thinks he could bully me online and then talk to me at school? No way in heck.
I leave him with his jaw nearly on the floor and enter the classroom. Mrs. Holden hasn’t arrived yet.
Ethan enters the classroom, his head whipping around until he finds me. I turn away from him, not interested in looking at that jerk any more than I have to.
When the teacher shows up, the first thing she does is call Ethan and me to the front of the room. Already? I thought we’d have a lesson first. I’m so not ready yet. Not ready to present withhim.
Ethan struts to the front of the room with his head held high. I never noticed it before, but there’s something about his walk that forces you to watch him. Maybe it’s his confidence? Or that his body is like…perfect. And that face and hair?
Ugh. So unfair. Why does my enemy have to be so darn good-looking? It’s criminal for a jerk like him to be blessed with all the good things in life. He’s an awesome football player, a talented musician, hot.
But a rotten person inside, so I guess that one negative cancels out all the great things about him. Not that he’s great or anything. No way.
“Phoenix? We’re waiting.” Mrs. Holden tears me away from my thoughts.
I force myself to my feet and join him at the front of the room. We’re each holding the report, and we’ll hand a copy to the teacher after we’re done.
I highlighted the parts we’ll each say, and he did the same for the added page.
I’m supposed to go first, but as I stand at the front of the room, all eyes on me, I feel shy and scared for some reason.Which is so, so not like me. Phoenix Ellis isn’t supposed to be scared of anything. But I am.
I’m second guessing everything—did I include all the info in the report? Does it make sense? Will the students laugh at me because I’m a nervous wreck?
Slipping my eyes over to Ethan, I see he looks so confident and calm. Now I get it. I’m not scared or nervous—I’m dreading this because I have to do it with him. Like, we have to work together, which is the last thing I want to do.
So I stare down at my paper, at my highlighted parts. My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. I don’t want to do it with him. Idon’twant to be here.
“When you’re ready,” Mrs. Holden says.
Ethan’s eyes meet mine and there’s something in there that I can’t read. Oh my gosh, is he laughing at me? Because I’m totally falling apart here? The jerk. It’shisfault I’m a mess and he’s laughing at me?
Ethan clears his throat, peering down at the report. Then he opens his mouth and begins. My fists clench at my sides. So not only did he add to the report, now he’s readingmyparts?
But…but I wouldn’t be able to get the words out anyway, and if I want to be honest with myself, he’s totally saving us right now. And the way he’s presenting…with so much charisma and confidence…it’s no wonder the entire class is entrapped. Heck, even Mrs. Holden can’t take her eyes off him.
It’s like he’s making them all float up to the clouds or something.
He stops when his—well my—turn is over, and shifts his gaze to me. He gives me a slight nod, which I guess is telling me to continue.
I glance down at the paper. This is so, so wrong. Everything is falling apart. I was supposed to start, we weren’t supposed to add anything. And now I’m going to fail because the report is notcoming out the way I wanted. I don’t do well when things are suddenly sprung up on me.
“You can do this,” he whispers.
Since when did he get so close? Idon’twant him near me.
