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I grab my shit and stand, waiting for Willow. Watching as she moves at a snail’s pace to gather her things. She finally shoots me a quick glance, her eyes wide. She almost looks like she’s afraid to deal with me.
She jerks her gaze from mine and scurries out of the classroom, clutching her backpack in front of her chest. After grabbing our assignment sheet from the desk, I chase after her, calling her name, but she won’t look back at me.
If she’s trying to fuck with my head, she’s doing a damn good job of it.
“Will, come on. Let me talk to you,” I call after her.
She comes to a stop and whirls on me when I get close, stabbing her finger in the center of my chest. “You need to be quiet.”
“I’ll be quiet if you stop running from me,” I retort.
“Give me the assignment sheet.” She wiggles her fingers at me and I hand the piece of paper to her. She looks it over, her brows drawing together as she keeps reading. “We’re supposed to be each other’s partner for the next two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” If she’s going to treat me like shit the entire time, this is going to be torture.
Willow nods, still scanning the paper. “We’re supposed to take photos of the same things and then compare our compositions.”
“Our what?”
She rolls her eyes and shoves the paper back at me, slapping it against my chest. “No one sees objects or scenery in the same way. We all have different eyes. How we view the world.”
I remember her explaining this to me on the first day of class, and how embarrassed she got over it.
“I think that’s the point he’s wanting to prove with this project. If we work together long enough, maybe we’ll see things in a different light. You’ll teach me, and I’ll teach you,” she explains, her lips forming into a frown.
“Sounds like we’ll be working closely together.”
She nods but otherwise says nothing.
“And you act like that’s your own personal nightmare,” I continue.
Her gaze is full of misery when it meets mine. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
I’m completely baffled by her behavior. “What are you talking about?”
“Working together.” She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. “But I suppose we don’t have a choice. We’ll need to keep this strictly business, okay?”
I’m tempted to salute her. “What the hell happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re like … a completely different person compared to last night.”
“I know,” she admits, her voice full of sorrow. “I, um, had a realization.”
“What was it?”
“We’re not compatible.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Willow
I’m lying through my teeth. We are most definitely compatible. Rhett looks at me and I’m tempted to throw myself at him. He touches me and I swear electricity sparks between us. He seems into me, which is shocking, but then again, it’s not. He was waiting for me outside of English class this morning. Adorable in his rumpled uniform and his golden-brown hair sticking up wildly, like he’d run his fingers through it over and over again. I wanted to run to him. Hug him close and tell him I missed him over the weekend, but I did none of that.
Westscott’s words ran through my brain on repeat, filling me with guilt. And shame. I can’t be a distraction to Rhett. Football is important to him. To his family. I did some googling earlier—I can’t believe I didn’t do it before. I saw all the news articles about his family and how they’re a football legacy. I also saw photos of his father when he was younger, and wow.
Rhett is the spitting image of Eli Bennett.
