Very Wicked Things

He smiled sadly. “I dig the blue. I didn’t think I would.”

Ah, small talk. Reserved for people who made you feel uncomfortable. Next, he’d comment about the…

“I hear it’s going to snow,” he murmured. Bingo.

The bell rang, giving us two minutes, and I felt a bit desperate, as if something important was slipping away from me. I opened my mouth to say something…I don’t know what…but clamped it shut.

He seemed antsy as he straightened up from the wall, ready to leave. I had to force my hand from reaching out to him. Which was crazy.

Something I didn’t intend to say came out. “Maybe we can get together sometime and talk.” I mentally groaned. Had I sorta-kinda asked him out?

His eyes widened, and I caught a mix of emotions across his face, maybe pleasure, but then dismay as his mouth dipped.

“Forget it. You’re right. Dumb idea. Talking is completely stupid and over-rated,” I said. “I mean, you have rowing coming up, and I have an audition, so yeah, I’m sure you’re too busy—” my idiocy stopped as Emma swooped in.

“I’m never too busy for you, my love,” Emma chimed in, her perfume stinking up my air. She wrapped her arms around Cuba’s waist, her eyes now leveled on me, a look on her face that said, Back off, bitch.

She rubbed his chest like she owned him. He pulled her hand away, his eyes still on me, as if he were sorry she’d interrupted us, but it was too late.

I got angry. Mostly at myself.

Why did he have this stupid power over me?

He was a liar and a cheat and a user. Was I the kind of girl who got dumped by a guy but kept going back time and time again, begging for another chance? No, no, no. I was not that girl, had never been that girl. Because I had better things to do. Like ballet…and sell drugs.

Wake up, Dovey, I yelled at myself. Dude is a loser.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. “See you in Lit,” I pronounced in a bright voice. I practically ran to class and to my seat, cursing myself for entertaining the idea of spending time with him. I sucked.

Mrs. Weinstein made a bee line for me. “Dovey, I’m putting you with Sebastian today, and Emma with Cuba. You good with that?” she asked, a tentative tone to her voice.

“Why?”

She sighed. “You both seemed agitated yesterday, and after class, Cuba came to me and requested—”

“Fine,” I said, getting up and going over to the desk Emma had had the day before.

Cuba really couldn’t stand to be near me.

The three of them came in together, of course. Cuba avoided my eyes, but Emma didn’t. She smirked and glared at me triumphantly. Whatever.

Weinstein informed Sebastian I was his new partner, and he flashed me a big smile and a wink. He eased his muscular build in his seat, looking hot in his tight jeans and Vital Rejects shirt. Yep, another rich jock who had it all: looks, money, and charm. Great.

“So, me and you babe?” he asked, hitting me with those ice blue eyes.

I arched a brow. “Don’t call me babe, or I may kill you. It’s Dovey.”

He chuckled. “Touché.”

I decided to dig a little.

“So, April Novak, huh? You and Cuba dating best friends. Very cute.”

He grinned. “I don’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re asking. You interested in the position?”

“Um, no.”

He pretended to be crushed. Then he flung a glance at Emma. “And FYI, Emma is not Cuba’s girl.”

Indeed. “She wants to be,” I commented under my breath.

Even though I knew it wasn’t a good idea—when would I ever learn?—I cocked my head enough so that I could watch them. Emma had scooted her desk over to Cuba’s until they were situated side-by-side, their arms resting against each other as they kept their heads low and whispered. And his face…I don’t know…it was just different from any of the other times I’d observed him with a girl. More soft, almost gentle. It pierced my heart. Because he’d been that way with me. That unbreakable gaze he was giving to her had belonged to me first, dammit.

My hands bunched up, and I blinked rapidly, pushing back the emotion. Had he finally fallen in love? Was it really over between us? Because I’ll be honest, since yesterday when he’d looked at me, a tiny part of me had been toying with the idea—and there I go again. Being ridiculous. Get a grip, Dovey. He broke up with you. He’s moved on.

In the background, Weistein mentioned something about Samuel Taylor Coleridge, so I followed Sebastian’s lead, turning to the same page he did, attempting to keep my eyes off Cuba. This class wasn’t for slackers.

A few minutes later, Sebastian tapped his pencil against my head.

“Ouch,” I said. “What was that for?”

“I’ve been talking to you about this Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and you haven’t heard a word I said. Partners help each other, Tiny Dancer.”

I ignored that and fumbled around with the book, trying to see where we were.

I found it. “Yeah, I love this one. It’s where the old sailor kills an albatross and everyone on the ship gets upset.”

He pointed his pencil at me. “We haven’t gotten to that part yet. You can’t fool me. Who were you thinking about in La La Land?”

I cut my eyes at Cuba.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not into relationships. You know that, right?” he murmured, coming in closer so we could talk more privately. I leaned in.