A few students chuckled around us, the human sheep always eavesdropping.
“You wound me, Cindersoot,” he drawled, collapsing into his chair.
“If only it were real,” I returned.
We’d decided our best play was to feign hatred and animosity toward each other after what went down at Homecoming. Ryan would love the idea that Tray had to work to earn my heart—because breaking it in the end would be all the sweeter.
“Oh, it was real,” he replied, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Every lick, moan, and kiss, darling dove.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you kissed me at the dance. Big deal.”
“You seemed to think so.” His irises smoldered as he looked me over. “I bet you’d kiss me again under the right circumstances.”
My lips twitched because, yeah, I’d totally let him kiss me again under pretty much any circumstance. But out loud I replied, “Sure. At night. While you’re dreaming.”
He winked at me. “We’ll be doing a lot more than kissing in my dreams, dove.”
“And you’ll be endlessly dying in mine, dick.”
Professor Montgomery chose that moment to enter, her focus immediately falling on me. “Miss Cinder, language!”
“This project you’ve assigned is impossible, Professor Montgomery,” Tray said, wasting no time. “She won’t even agree to meet with me for the project despite my offering endless hours for the interview.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Excuse me, but I recall you saying you were busy every night last week.”
“I don’t recall any such claim,” he replied, his attention on the teacher. “How am I supposed to finish my first assignment with a partner who refuses to work with me?”
She set her bag on her desk, her expression one that said she truly hated Mondays. Or maybe it was her students she despised. Or just us.
“Is that true, Miss Cinder?” she demanded. “Are you refusing to be accommodating to our new student?”
“I’ve witnessed it firsthand,” Charlie put in unhelpfully. “Tray asked her nicely last week to spend time after school for an hour, and she told him to go to hell. Apologies for the language.”
Tray lifted a shoulder, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.
I knew this was all part of our ploy, but Jesus. Could he have chosen a different avenue for our bickering? One that didn’t impact my grade point average.
“I did no such thing,” I stated truthfully. “He demanded I go to Homecoming with him to work on our project.” Yeah, just saying that out loud, I heard how ridiculous it sounded. And Montgomery’s expression said she’d heard it, too.
“Well, since both of you seem unable to accommodate the other, how about a week of after-school detention to work out your differences and your project?” she suggested, arching a brow.
Shit.
Clarissa was not going to like that. Not one bit.
I never received detention. Ever.
“Great, I’m glad that’s settled,” Professor Montgomery said, not giving us time to argue. “I’ll see you both promptly after last period. Bring your notebooks.”
Awesome, I thought with a mental huff. Thanks, Tray.
This plan of his had better be worth it. Because if I just accepted detention for no benefit whatsoever, he’d have hell to pay.
I waited impatiently for Montgomery to carry out her lecture, desperately wanting to pull Tray aside to demand an explanation. But as soon as the bell rang, he disappeared with the other students into the hallway and left me glaring after him.
Yeah, that went well.
I continued through my next few classes, irritated and confused and decidedly pissed off. So when Tray yanked me into a vacant classroom just before lunch, I rounded on him. “What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.