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“Just a girl in my math class.”
“Just a girl, huh?”
Gabriel glared at him. “Just a girl.”
Chris smiled. “So was Becca.”
Layne sat at her desk, waiting for class to begin. She’d started working through the problems at the end of the next unit, desperate for something that would make her look busy.
Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t think about numbers. It was all too content to replay the feel of Gabriel’s hands at her waist. His breath against her hair. He wasn’t even sitting beside her yet, and her mind was already scripting PG-13 fantasies.
No, probably just PG. She’d never even kissed a boy, much less anything else.
Thank god she’d been wearing that jacket.
And he’d pushed her away, anyway. She might as well scrap the fantasies.
Layne knew the instant he walked into the room. She could feel his eyes find her, so she kept her own on the paper.
Write. Look busy.
But out of the corner of her eye, she watched him drop a piece of paper in the homework basket.
He’d done it. Had he found someone else to help him cheat?
Someone snickered to her left. “Working ahead, lesbo?”
Taylor, sitting backward on her desk, probably waiting for Gabriel. Layne sighed and ignored her.
“You know,” said Taylor, “maybe if you spent five minutes looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a loser nerd.”
Layne looked up. “Maybe if you spent five minutes less looking in a mirror, you wouldn’t look like such a prostitute.”
Half the class caught its breath. Layne could hear it, the anticipation, the eagerness for Taylor to snap.
Part of her wanted to suck the words back, to reverse time ten seconds.
The other part wanted to finish up the comment by stabbing Taylor with her pencil.
“Aw,” said Taylor, giving her a mock pout. “You’re jealous.
So sweet.”
“I’m not jealous of you.”
Gabriel stepped through the tension to drop into his seat. He still looked tired. If anything, he looked more drawn than he had at six o’clock this morning. He’d showered and changed at some point, but he’d never bothered to find a razor. It made him look immeasurably rakish and sexy and overwhelmingly sad, too.
He didn’t even glance at Layne.
He didn’t look at Taylor, either, just dragged a textbook from his backpack.
Layne sighed and turned back to her work.
“What’s wrong, lesbo?” said Taylor. “Run out of insults?”
Gabriel lifted his head. “Leave her alone, Taylor.”
“You’re defending her? She just called me a prostitute.”
