“Eli?”
The small points of dirty-blond hair unmoving as he lifts his head from his book. His hair has always been short, but he must have gotten it cut recently. Part of his scalp visible through the low strands.
“You’re not in this class?” I may have left, but I hadn’t been gonethatlong. Short enough to know he isn’t in Introduction to Spanish.
Leaning back, the sleeves of his shirt pull. The muscles visible, bulging even under his blazer. Flexing, he crosses them tightly over his chest. Smile coaxing, enjoying my confusion a little too much.
Suddenly though, I’m not sure if I’m more baffled about why he’s here or how I have never noticed he’s so ripped.
Probably because you only ever had eyes for one asshole, remember, dummy?My head screams.
Shaking it, I clear my thoughts. All of them, except the one that matters as of current.
“No, ho, ho,” I deride. Wagging a pointed finger back and forth when he widens his legs and plants his feet in that way where dudes get comfortable. “You are not staying here. Go back to your class. Yourrealclass.”
“This is my real class,” he states simply.
My teeth grind. Him not budging or getting the hint.
I don’t want Eli here. I want peace.
The comfort that comes with not understanding what the teacher says for the next hour what I’ve been looking forward to. The concentration I need so that my mind doesn’t wander.
That’s what I want, a diversion.
Not…this.
“Look, I don’t know what scheme you concocted with them, but I need you gone.”
More people are stumbling into the room. He doesn’t attempt to move from his desk, and it skyrockets my anxiety. Eli can’t stay here.
“This is my class. Go find your own,” I spew out, trying to keep my voice down. Not wanting to alert the others around.
According to Hailey, I’m the hot topic of this school right now. Whether it be the breakup, my disappearing, or the other millions of lies she’s heard. I cared as much as I volunteered to stop listening halfway through.
Ergo, I don’t need another. My list already plenty high on these junkies disguised as socialites’ radar. A tantrum in the middle of the classroom does not need to be added.
Not on my first day back.
Class is about to start, almost all the seats taken, and I debate if I’m suddenly above begging. My nerves are through the roof. Orel tejado, in Spanish.
See, I need this. Same as Eli needs to vamos.
“Stop being childish, Eli.” This is getting ridiculous. “People are starting to stare.”
He leans in, lowering his voice enough that I have to do the same to hear. “Probably because you haven’t taken your seat yet and the teacher’s ready to start class.” His grin is slow, baiting.
My ass knocks into the seat in front of his in the next second. A low growl rips out as I face forward. Cheeks overly warm.
We make it about halfway through the class before I feel his closeness behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at his knuckles digging into my back. An aftereffect of the strong grip he has on the back of my seat.
“You need to calm down, people are getting more curious.”
My jaw grates. Uncaring anymore.
So, leave.I want to say but chew on the inside of my cheek instead.
“You know we’re only doing this because we care, right?”