AllFreeNovel
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“No,” said Becca sharply. “We’re not.”
His eyebrows went up.
“Jesus,” said Quinn. “You followed that?”
Becca faltered, knowing she sounded like a freak. But Claire’s boyfriend was Matt Carpenter. The goalie of the soccer team.
And Drew McKay’s best friend.
“I might have to work,” she said lamely. Her heart was kicking.
“I hear you,” he said.
“You said you weren’t working tonight,” said Quinn. “Free and clear, you said.”
Becca slapped her water bottle on the table. “Damn it, Quinn.”
“Free and clear, huh?” Hunter said.
“Look,” she said, hearing her voice come out choked. She had to clear her throat. “That party is going to be at Drew McKay’s house... .”
“Old boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Yes,” said Quinn. When Becca glared at her, she shrugged. “It’s true.”
His pierced eyebrow lifted. “Still carry a torch?”
“No,” she snapped.
Hunter was just looking at her, his eyes bright and challenging again. Her breath caught. Forget running a race—this felt like dancing.
“In or out?” he said.
o;That’s Jocelyn Kanter’s seat,” she said under her breath. “You gonna make her fight you for it later?”
He stopped, turned his head, and looked at her from under his bangs. “You too?”
“I’m not the one who picked a fight over a chair.”
He looked away, so she did, too, staring down at the glossy pages of her textbook. From the corner of her eye, she saw New Kid glance her way, but she kept her gaze down and flipped a page, not wanting to make eye contact.
Furniture scraped along the tile floor. Students were moving desks, shifting the writing surfaces together. Becca threw her head up. What had she missed?
They seemed to be turning six rows of desks into three. She started pushing her desk to the right, watching the others to make sure she was following instructions she hadn’t heard.
“What are we doing?” she whispered to Chris.
“Succumbing to the whims of a bitter old man.” He shoved his desk the rest of the way, until it was up against hers.
She sighed. “I meant—”
“Rewriting a peace treaty,” he said. “Semester project.”
Talk about a thrill-a-minute. “Why are we moving the desks?”
He snorted. “Who the hell knows. He probably read about this in a teachers’ magazine.”
