Page 11 of Pretty Little Game

I level him with a spiteful glare as my words hiss past my lips in a loud whisper. “What is your deal? Why are you suddenly in so many theater classes when you’re an environmental sciences major? Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?” I demand, my tone dripping with vitriol.

His surprise grows more pronounced, and his smile falters ever so slightly before he recovers his humor-filled confidence. “I decided to switch majors,” he says simply, one shoulder lifting and dropping casually, as if it’s a perfectly logical response.

I’m struck dumb, my shock overwhelming my anger. If he’s telling the truth, that means he basically wasted three years of his education studying environmental sciences if he plans to graduate with a theater major. It makes absolutely no sense.

He never seemed to take theater all that seriously in the elective he and Lucca took with me.So, why the sudden interest? And how in the hell did he just skip all the lower division classes needed to take my classes?

I know the answer to that as soon as the question pops into my head. He’s a Marchetti. He probably just had to swing by the Arts Department office and make a request. His father pours so much money into the program that they couldn’t possibly care if Cassio gets a proper education or if he just wants to putz around his senior year.

“Youjust decided?” I demand, leaning closer in my fury. “And what made youdecidetheater is your new passion?”

He does another casual one-shoulder shrug, intensifying my frustration. “To be honest, Lucca has always been more of the science nerd. Besides, just because we’re twins doesn’t mean I can’t have separate interests.”

He gives me a pointed look that makes me think he’s implyingI’mhis newfound interest. Absolutely fucking not. He must be joking. I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted to slap someone so badly in my life.

Two years.For two years,he’s treated me like shit, ignored me, never explained himself, or even apologized for leading me on.Now, this?

I’m out of my chair in an instant, my hands balled into fists, my lips pressed tight as I glare down at Cassio. The humor that dances across his lips begs to be smacked right off his face.

Before I do something I’ll come to regret–like slapping the son of Lorenzo Marchetti and getting myself expelled from Rosehill in my senior year–I snatch up my bag and storm from the row where Ellie and I were sitting.

I don’t look back as I move as far away from him as possible, finding an open seat on the other side of the classroom–one without a free chair next to it–and flop into it.

That tiny jewelry box still sitting on the desk I just vacated lingers in the back of my mind. I almost wish I had snatched it before leaving–just to satisfy my curiosity. But I didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he got to me.

So he changed his major, but why does he have to be in what seems to be every single one of my classes? And why in thehelldoes he keep sitting next to me?

He’s even finagled his way into my Dramatization and Emotional Acting, an upper-division course where he shouldn’t have the prerequisites to get in. I had really been looking forward to this semester, and now I’m tempted to drop it just so I don’t have to hear his obnoxiously sexy voice.

I cannotbelievehim. And I can’t bring myself to feel bad for abandoning Ellie either.Just ask him.What terrible advice. Now I’m faced with the knowledge that Cassio switched majors for absolutely no logical reason. And he had the gall to imply he’s interested in me.

What is he playing at? Well, Bianka seems to have finally decided to give up on me, so I better cast another hook and reel her back in.I’m so angry I could scream.

But just then, our professor enters the room, her introduction leaving her lips before she’s even made it to the front of the class, and I don’t have time to dwell on Cassio’s insane reasoning. What an entitled prick for thinking he can waltz back into my life and wrap me neatly around his finger with a few cute words, a bit of cheeky humor, and a gift.

My irritation spikes and I dare to steal a glance back at him after class starts, my eyes narrowed in a malicious glare. But when I look, Cassio’s eyes are on me. Their hazel glint is almost green in the fluorescent lighting.

Ellie, next to him, has her attention trained on the professor, who hands out syllabi, but I can’t focus on her words. Because as I glance in Cassio’s direction once more, he has the nerve to wink at me. I really might just kill him.

2

CASSIO

I sense an impending explosion from the look my father has leveled at me as the family settles into chairs around the dinner table. No one else seems to notice. My mother’s examining the tips of her immaculate platinum blonde hair, searching for split ends I know she won’t find because she goes to her stylist every two weeks for a touch-up.

Next to her is my sister, Silvia, who sits by Anya and Nicolo’s little girl, Clara.

“Have you seen my magic trick?” Silvi asks Clara conspiratorially.

Clara’s eyes widen as she watches with anticipation.

“Look closely,” my sister instructs and breathes into her spoon before sticking it firmly to her nose.

Clara’s light six-year-old laughter fills the room, making me smile. Silvia’s won her way into the pretty little girl’s heart as a favorite auntie over the last few years, and the two have become inseparable.

Anya and Nicolo smile at each other as Clara’s giggle carries across the table, brightening the room.

Lucca’s in his own world as he looks at his phone, wearing that ridiculous grin that tells me he’s messaging Ellie. I can feel the happiness radiating from my family, everyone enjoying their lives and appreciating the people they’re with. Everyone except my father, who stares me down silently from the head of the table, ice in his gaze.

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