by Judy Corry
"I think it was more your side of it that he didn't buy." She shrugged. "He knows all about the no-dating clause in your contract and somehow figured out that you'd only flirt back with me if it was already known that nothing would ever happen between us."
"Huh," was all I could say in response. I guess Nash was more observant than I'd thought.
And apparently, I'd also been correct when I suspected that he'd been the one to mess with my contract in the first place.
"So, from the way you just got his number, I'm assuming that you have a favorite Hastings brother already."
"I don't know… You both have provided a lot of fun entertainment for me so far," she said with a sly look on her face. "But it’s refreshing to be around a Hastings boy who is actually socially capable and genuinely good-natured."
I had to chuckle at her ripping me a new one. "Being pleasant all the time takes too much energy."
"Maybe you should try drinking some coffee for an energy boost," she said. And then I thought I heard her mutter under her breath, "Being hot can only get you so far," as she dug into her bag for the skull-and-crossbones notebook she'd used earlier.
I couldn't help the smirk that lifted my face after hearing her disgruntled words. "So you find me attractive?" I asked.
She looked up from her bag, her face going pale as she realized she'd spoken the words loud enough for me to hear. "I-I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
"No, I didn't," she insisted, even though we both knew that she had.
"Ava," I said in a chiding tone. "Didn't your parents ever teach you it's not okay to lie?"
"Fine." She let out an aggravated sigh. "So you're hot. You obviously already know that, so I shouldn't be ashamed for thinking so."
"Thanks for the compliment." I shot her a smile. "I mean, your 'Haughty McHot-Hot' compliment was nice earlier. But it's always great to hear how good-looking I am in person."
Her eyes widened and she sat up straighter with a hmph. "I wasn't compli—"
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," I cut her off. "In fact, I was about to say that you yourself have the most captivating eyes."
Which, despite my teasing tone, was actually true.
In fact, they were really pretty—a lighter amber color that kind of surprised you.
And as I studied the flecks of gold in her irises, I could tell the moment she realized I'd just complimented her because her eyes went wide with shock.
She blinked a few times, like she was having to switch gears with whatever retort she'd planned to say and instead said, "Th-th-thank you?"
I shrugged. "Of course." Then leaning closer so our faces were mere inches apart and her sweet perfume filled my nose, I decided to see how far I could take things by tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. In a voice just above a whisper, I said, "Not only are your eyes captivating, but I also find your personality enchanting and your wit positively charming."
She swallowed and just stared at me, probably completely stunned by my words and the intimate way I'd just traced my fingertip across her smooth skin.
As her questioning gaze studied my face for signs that I was being facetious, I worked hard to maintain a straight face. But not nearly the actor my brother was, I was only able to keep in character for another second before the corners of my lips betrayed me and the smile I'd been fighting forced its way across my lips.
It only took another second for her eyes to narrow and her jaw to drop as she realized that I'd just complimented her with all the qualities she'd listed at the bottom of our contract.
"Ugh." She pushed her hand against my shoulder, forcing more distance between us. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"
I shrugged. "Sorry, I'm really great at reaching for the low hanging fruit."
I mean, how could you not when it was just sitting there?
But though I'd only done it just to get a reaction from her, it was strange how my fingertips still burned a little from touching her cheek. It had been a long time since I'd had any sort of reaction like that with a girl.
Ava shook her head, her silky brown curls bouncing slightly with the movement. "Anyway, since I know how anal you are about your schedule and that we only have forty-five minutes before you probably have a workout or something else planned, I wanted to briefly talk to you about what I hinted at in my note."
I leaned back in my seat, resting one arm across the table in a relaxed pose. "I'm listening."
"Okay," she said. "So I'm guessing that you might be a little curious about why I decided to put on that whole charade during our last class after we'd just gone through that whole contract thing during lunch."
"Just a little curious." I drummed my fingers on the wooden tabletop. "You might say that you totally flirting with me after signing a paper saying that you wouldn't try to date me was kind of the opposite behavior that I expected."
"So I may have had a little fun." A little smirk lifted her lips, like the memory of the whole debacle was hilarious to her. "But I guess after everything today, it got me thinking that maybe we could make an arrangement that’s mutually beneficial." She studied me, and for the briefest moment there was a glimmer of vulnerability that showed through the mask of confidence she'd been wearing all day. She looked down as she smoothed her hands along her pleated skirt. After releasing a heavy breath, she met my gaze again and said, "I know that during lunch I joked a little over the fact that I needed a tutor in order to even attend this school in the first place, but—" She shifted in her seat and tossed her long hair over her shoulder, as if trying to get more comfortable for an uncomfortable conversation. "—it's actually something that I'm really embarrassed about."
She trained her gaze to the side, as if admitting her weakness took a lot of bravery. Then she said, "And I guess that since I really don't want everyone at school to know that I need help with math and you seem eager enough to make Sofia regret breaking up with you, then maybe we could kill two birds with one stone and pretend like we're spending our afternoons together for less scholarly reasons."
"You want people to think we're romantically entangled?" I asked, not sure I was understanding her correctly.
"Well, maybe not exclusively," she said. "I'd still like to have a fun senior year with guys."
"Like my brother Nash," I offered since she'd just been with him.
"Sure, him and others." She shrugged. "It’s my first day, there are still a lot of guys to meet."
I knew it was insane to feel the least bit possessive of this girl whom I'd just met twenty-four hours ago, but for some strange reason, her talk of dating lots of other guys caused an unusual jolt of jealousy to rise in me.
But I pushed the feeling away since caring about who or how many guys Ava spent her time with really shouldn't affect me at all.
"So anyway," she continued, "I was just thinking that while neither one of us is officially dating anyone else, it would be a nice arrangement for me to save face and for you to get back a little at Sofia."
I strummed my fingers on the table as I thought over what Ava was proposing.
I hadn't exactly wanted to mess with the drama that dating and girls brought with them this year, so pretending to flirt with Ava wouldn't hinder any of that—in fact, it might even help fend off other girls who might otherwise try to flirt with me. And then, of course, making Sofia believe I'd moved on and was completely over her was also a very appealing idea—especially since I could do that without the less desirable side effects of having to actually be invested in a new relationship.
Plus, this plan of hers wouldn't even add an extra time constraint into my schedule since I'd already planned on our Tuesday and Thursday tutoring sessions for the rest of the school year.
The only thing I'd really need to do differently was more of what we'd done during last period, which—when I thought about it—had actually been kind of fun.
Maybe Nash and Cambrielle weren't the only Hastings siblings with a future in t
he theater?
"So, what do you think?" Ava asked.
"You think it’ll actually work?" I pressed my lips together as I looked at her.
"I think so," Ava said with a shrug. "I mean, I guess I've heard that you only date supermodels, which yeah, obviously I'm not one, so maybe that simple fact will make it unbelievable to anyone who knows you. But if you're not too worried about looking like you're slumming it with the new girl, I think it could help us both in our own ways."
"I don't think anyone would think I was slumming it," I said, not wanting her to think that my lack of interest in dating her had anything to do with the way she looked.
"Why, Carter Hastings!" Ava put a hand to her chest in a show of surprise. "I think that may be the nicest thing you've said to me yet."
"Well, I do what I can." Then after thinking about it for a moment longer, I said, "How about we nail down a few particulars for how this would even work, and then maybe I can give you a better answer?"
11
Ava
Carter and I spent the next few minutes going over the details of our little arrangement. Since this was all pretend, and definitely not an exclusive sort of thing, it was pretty simple. Basically, we would just be extra flirty in the classes we had together so Sofia would have a front-row seat to it all, and then we'd just make it seem like our study sessions were more of a social thing instead of an actual requirement for me to pass math.
It was kind of a great situation, actually.
I was still allowed to flirt with other guys and go on dates if I wanted while he would, in his own words, continue to ignore everyone else like he usually did.
Man, my math tutor sure was a catch, wasn't he? The kind of hot that could make me forget my own name, but severely lacking in social skills.
But if publicly flirting with him kept my secret safe while I earned my first ever A's in math, I could put up with Mr. Grumpy Pants.
Carter pulled out his phone once we were ready to get back into the interview questions Mrs. Simmons had assigned us. "I think what’s next is whether we'd like to be famous or not, and if so, in what way?"
"I'll go first on that one," I offered. I liked that the questions so far were pretty non-invasive, even though our teacher had suggested that these might bring out some things we didn't already know about our classmates. "I think it would be fun to be famous." It would mean that I'd probably not have to worry about money since hopefully, I'd be a rich famous person and not famous for something bad. "And as for what way, I'd love to follow in my mom's footsteps and make a name for myself in the fashion world."
Carter nodded as he wrote down my answer in his notebook. I smiled when I saw the words Ava wants a fashion empire in his blocky handwriting, because the word empire had so much power in it.
When he was done jotting my answer down, I asked, "And what about you? Do you want to be famous?"
"Nope."
The way he said it was so final, like he didn't even care to entertain for one minute the idea of what it would be like to be famous.
"Why not?" I asked, so curious since I figured most everyone I knew would want to be famous in one way or another. If not famous themselves, then at least have something they created become famous.
"I'm already critical enough of myself that I don't need random strangers nitpicking at my flaws," he said matter-of-factly. "When you're famous, people strangely think that you somehow owe them the nitty gritty details of your life: who you're dating, who you went on vacation with, what kind of toothpaste you prefer. I've seen my dad and Dawn deal with enough crap—and they're only famous in the business world. I just don't need to live under a microscope. I like my privacy too much."
"I must seem really naive to you then," I said, suddenly regretting what I said about wanting to be famous.
And to think I'd just been thinking that these questions were tame a second ago.
When he gave a non-committal shrug in reply, I knew he had to be totally judging me.
Ugh. So much for being on equal ground with this guy for once.
Carter cleared his throat. "Ready for the next question?"
I quickly jotted Carter's answer down in my notebook. "Sure."
Hopefully, I could answer this one without seeming stupid to him.
"Okay, this one’s interesting," he said. "It asks if you ever rehearse what you're going to say before making a phone call."
I squished my eyebrows together, wondering how this was even a question. "Is that actually a thing?" I asked at the same time Carter said, "I do. What about you?"
"Wait— You rehearse your conversations beforehand?" I asked, realizing what he'd just said.
"If I can send a text, I'll choose to do that instead," he said. "But sometimes, when I'm making calls for my dad's company, I'll run through what I need to say ahead of time so I don't mess it up."
"Interesting."
"Not all of us are the social butterfly that you seem to be," he said. "I'm guessing from your reaction that you don't do this."
"Can't say that I do."
Was it possible that my math tutor sometimes came off as unapproachable not because he thought he was above everyone, but because he had some social anxiety?
The next few questions were pretty easy, asking us things like what our favorite color was, favorite thing to do during our free time, and our favorite food.
Our answers were the following:
Me: Pink, hanging out with Elyse and our friends, and pizza.
Him: Blue, reading, and his family chef's famous strawberries and cream crepes.
Apparently, he was a lot fancier than I was.
"The next question asks what your favorite place in the whole world is," I said, after reading from the list. After thinking about all the places I'd ever been in the world, which granted probably wasn't many compared to a lot of the kids at this school, I said, "I guess my favorite place that I've ever been to would have to be Habonim-Dor Beach near my grandma and grandpa's home in Israel."
"Your grandparents are from Israel?" Carter asked. "Does that mean you lived there?"
"No," I said. "My mom came to this school when she was in high school and loved the United States, so she came back again to stay after college. I’ve only ever lived in Ridgewater until now. But we've visited my grandparents a few times when they offered to fly us over."
Things had been pretty strained between my mom and grandpa for a while there. Having him disinherit her when she'd told him she was pregnant hadn't exactly put them on the best of terms. But he'd come around a few years later with the help of my grandma and a huge change of heart, and eventually, they were able to patch things up and have a relationship again.
"Cool," he said. "Is your dad from the United States, too? Or did he and your mom meet in Israel?"
"Oh, um—" I looked down at my notebook, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I actually don't have a father."
"You don't?" He frowned.
"Well, I mean," I said after realizing how that had sounded. "I obviously have a biological father out there somewhere since that's how science works and all, but um, yeah, I just don't know who he is…" I let my words taper off at the end, wishing for about the thousandth time that I had at least a name or photo or something…anything to give me a clue.
But sadly, my mom was really, really good at keeping secrets.
"Oh, sorry." Carter swallowed, looking uncomfortable. Then after seeming like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not, he said, "I can kind of relate. I, uh, I didn't know who my dad was until I was eight."
"You didn't?" I met his gaze again, surprised that we would have something that was so rare in common.
He gave his head a slight shake, his expression somewhat cautious as he said, "All my mom ever told me when I asked about him was that my father was a gringo who’d only been in Guatemala for a short time."
"Yeah?" Then, after hesitating for a moment, I asked, "Since you're here now, I'm guessing you eventually
found out who he was."
"Yeah." He sighed and shifted in his seat. "Anyway, um, my dad came to work at one of the orphanages he sponsors when I was eight and after putting two and two together—Nash and I could have passed for twins when we were younger and blue eyes aren't exactly common among Guatemalans—he had a DNA test done and found out that he had a son he'd never known about."
Wait. What?
Carter had lived in an orphanage?
"W-what were you doing in an orphanage?" I asked before realizing it was probably the stupidest question for me to ask right then.
People usually only ended up in orphanages for one reason.
Which meant Carter's mom had probably died sometime before he was eight.
I was about to tell him that it was none of my business and I probably shouldn't have even asked the question in the first place when a range of emotions crossed his face and he said, "My, um—" He sighed heavily before meeting my gaze. His eyes showed a hint of pain when he looked at me. "My mom left me at a childcare one day when I was five and never came back."
My heart stuttered to a stop.
Carter hadn't been orphaned.
He'd been abandoned.
By his own mother.
And lived in an orphanage for three years before his dad had found him.
Suddenly, never knowing who my dad was sounded way easier than him being abandoned by the only parent he'd known at such a young age.
"I'm sorry to hear that. That must have been so hard," I said lamely. What else could I say?
Based on his mention of his family having an employee who cleaned all of their fancy vehicles, and knowing he'd dated a supermodel in the past, I'd assumed he had always lived in the lap of luxury. But from just those few details he'd shared with me, it sounded like the first few years of his life had been more difficult than I could have ever imagined.
Geez.
He'd lived in an orphanage in a third-world country.
My mom, sister, and I might not have had the nicest house growing up, but we'd never gone without.
