Faking It

Theo - Ch 6

I got my answer after our late practice and another day of brutal, boring, Kingsbridge-calibre classes. As if the new girl had been lying in wait, the girls' locker room door flung open, narrowly missing shattering my nose. I sidestepped out of instinct, and, fight-or-flight mode activated, couldn't help but snap at her when she emerged, seemingly oblivious.

"Are you trying to hit me?" I demanded, raking my eyes over her in the cruel, calculating way my mother had perfected. Her hair was wet and unstyled, already frizzing at the ends. Her tie was a wreck, knotted in some shitty mess a kindergartener might've come up with rather than the standard half-Windsor Kingsbridge demanded. She was still in her uniform, and it looked like she'd thrown it on in a hurry.

"No. Sorry," she muttered, checking her watch. "It won't happen again."

I couldn't stop my eyebrows from lifting. It wasn't the reaction I'd expected, not after a second manufactured wannabe meet-cute. But then, someone trying to land my brother would've probably spent a little more time making sure their tie wasn't a disaster.

I was too distracted by puzzling out what the hell she was trying to do with all of this accidental-meeting shit that I didn't manage to stop the knee-jerk of my inner snob lashing out. "You should learn how to tie a tie."

And then, before I could process her reaction, I walked away. Because hell, I was turning into Emily and I did not want to deal with that right now.

"Not all of us grew up at the yacht club, okay?"

I threw a look at her over my shoulder, half-dreading that her eyes would be swimming with tears or something. But they weren't. Instead, she was glaring at me.

So she was tougher than I'd initially given her credit for. And glaring. That didn't compute. If she was trying to sweet talk me, she should've leaned into tears. Or asked me to tie her tie for her or something.

I didn't like that. I didn't like not knowing what the hell her endgame was.

"Clearly," I said, raking her with another of mother's head-to-toes just to make sure I telegraphed stay the hell away loud enough.

I could've sworn I heard her call me a jerk before the door slammed.

And I hated that all that did was confuse me even more.