by Sadie Moss
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, pump the brakes.” I put my hands up in a “stop” motion. “Finals? No way. I am not sticking around here long enough to take final exams.”
Cross raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Where else are you going to go?”
Fuck.
That’s a good question.
Chapter 8
The whole way back to Radcliffe Academy, my mind keeps mulling over the question Cross posed. Where am I going to go?
The answer is horrifyingly obvious.
Nowhere.
I mean, sure, there are places I could go. But none of them make as much sense as remaining in the relative safety and security of Roxie’s old life as I try to figure out how the hell to get back to my own world.
After we re-enter the dimension bubble and walk across Radcliffe’s campus, Cross drops me off back at my dorm.
“Here, give me that notebook, I’ll write you a cheat sheet for things. Your class schedule, your friends.” I do as he asks, and as he starts writing stuff down, he glances around Roxie’s cluttered room. “I’m sure she’s got syllabi and other shit in here somewhere, if you want to find it. That’ll help too.”
Okay. The guy is annoying as all hell half the time, and he clearly loves giving me shit and freaking me out. I honestly think he’s taking extra delight in it because I struggle to fire back at him. Roxie clearly had no problem giving him what for, and I think my own stuttering responses are amusing him to no end.
For all his snark and teasing comments though, he’s been super helpful. Yeah, I spent Roxie’s money on this ridiculously expensive charm, and Cross seemed to take great delight in that, probably imagining her face when she sees her next credit card bill.
But he also didn’t have to do any of this.
He didn’t have to get me a charm, or explain things about this world and help me figure out what to do, or cover for me, or write down all of this information about Roxie.
Speaking of which—his pen is still flying over the paper, scribbling down note after note. Damn, how much does he know about her?
I mean, of course he knows a lot about her. They’re rivals, and they take the same classes and subjects, right? It’s nothing to raise my eyebrows over.
Except that he seems to know not just her classes but her friends, some of the guys she slept with, where she went for spring break last year. And I can’t help but wonder…
Does Cross have a crush on Roxie, underneath all of this antagonism? Is this whole over-the-top rivalry thing because he has feelings her?
I get this weird hot feeling in my chest, one that I’m not used to.
Jealousy.
I shove it away. Cross is my only ally here, the only person in this entire world who knows who I actually am, so of course I’m feeling a little possessive.
But, come on, Gabbi. Don’t start getting all jealous of some fantasy you’ve made up about what you think his feelings are for your parallel world twin.
Sheesh. Even in my head, that sentence sounded trippy. I’m shocked I don’t have a constant migraine.
“There you go.” Cross hands me the list. “See you tomorrow, cupcake. Look lively!”
He gives me a sarcastic salute and heads out.
Uggghhh, how can a man I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours drive me so insane?
Every time he’s helpful and thoughtful, and I start to warm up to him—get drawn in by him—he turns around and annoys me all over again.
Well, fine.
Forcing Cross out of my mind, I look around the large dorm room.
My gaze lands on a laptop on the desk, and I make a beeline toward it. It’s password protected, of course, but there’s something that looks like a fingerprint pad on the corner of the keyboard, and lo and behold, my fingerprint works. A little spark of magic zaps around my finger, and the computer screen unlocks.
Whoa. Creepy. But useful.
I spend a couple hours going through Roxie’s computer, scouring her emails and school project folders and even playing some of her music, my head bobbing along to the beat. It’s a lot to take in, but combined with the notes Cross gave me, it helps me get a better sense of who she is.
When my brain can’t absorb any more information, I shut the laptop and glance around the messy room again.
My nose wrinkles. No way am I gonna live like this. I’m a neat freak and always have been; this stuff has got to get organized.
I spend the next hour taking care of that, and in the process, I set aside some clothes to try on. Roxie and I are physically the same, so I’m not doubting that they’ll fit. It’s just that they all seem… um…
I try a few on, wincing in the mirror. This is all far more revealing than the kinds of things I usually wear. I’m not ashamed of my body, and I’ve got no problem with people who want to show theirs off. But I prefer to dress pretty simply. Jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing fancy.
Roxie, though? She’s got all these short skirts and dresses, and that means I need to wear heels with them. And if I’m getting that dressed up, then I can’t just jam my hair into a ponytail or something. I’ll have to actually style it, and…
Yeah. Hoo boy.
That sounds like a royal pain in the ass, but Cross is right: I need to keep pretending to be Roxie.
That means wearing these damn clothes.
I’m just trying on a slinky little red dress, wondering if this is the type of thing Roxie would wear to class just to look better than everyone else, when there’s a knock at the door.
Shit. That must be Bianca.
I hope she isn’t still mad about my ditching her. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’m sure Cross being a prick about it didn’t help.
But when I open the door, it’s not Bianca.
It’s the guy from across the hall. Theo.
He swans right in without asking permission, casting his gaze around the room and making small interested noises. He’s got this kind of languid ease about him, like he’s moving in slow motion or something, but without making it jerky or unnatural.
“So, this is where all the magic happens,” he muses, glancing pointedly at the bed I just made up. He turns, catching sight of my outfit, and I swear his gray eyes go a shade darker. “Mmm. Well, if that isn’t a dress designed to be taken off…”
He looks like he’s two seconds away from stalking over and tearing it off my body, and to my embarrassment, my overactive imagination immediately starts coming up with images of exactly what that would be like. My face gets hot, and I know I’m blushing.
“Do—do you need something?” I ask, trying to remember what words are.
“If I said you, would you believe me?”
Theo’s voice is like sin, and his gaze traces over the curves of my body as if he’s examining the most breathtaking piece of art he’s ever seen. A piece of art he would very much like to bang.
“I—”
Ah, fuck. The blush is spreading. My chest is hot, my neck is hot, my face is hot. I must be beet red by now, and I can’t think of a single thing to say. Men are never this blatant with me. I have no idea how to respond, or what to do about it.
“Um…”
My mouth opens and closes, but no more words come out. I back up a few steps, bumping clumsily into the desk that’s set against one wall.
Theo’s face shifts from open desire and a hint of mirth to confusion and even… concern. “Roxie, are you all right?”
“What?” Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Panic finally loosens my tongue. “Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Theo moves forward to stand beside me, bracing his hand on the desk. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been getting more and more outrageously flirtatious, and you usually brush me off like the perfectly delicious ice queen you are. But twice, now, you’ve gotten all flushed and flustered…” He cocks his head to the side, like he’s trying to x-ray me. Maybe he can. Maybe that’s a magical spell here, who knows? “Could it be I’m a
ctually having an effect on you?”
He doesn’t sound flattered, the way you would expect. He sounds genuinely confused and suspicious, like he’s waiting for me to drop the punchline.
“I got a concussion last night,” I snap back, struggling to think of something to say. “And you’re wondering why I’m behaving a little weirdly? Brain injuries are no joke, even with the help of magic, so I think maybe you need to lay off. Or do you think I’m secretly a set of triplets, and a different one than usual drew the short straw and has to put up with your lecherous bullshit?”
“Triplets would explain how you’ve been able to get so much work done and stay on top of all your classes,” Theo shoots back. He sounds completely amused by my sass, or my attempt at it anyway. I’m not exactly sure how well I succeeded.
He swings around and plants his hands on either side of me on the desk, pinning me in. I can feel the heat of his body as we’re almost, but not quite, touching, and I have to crane my neck up to look at him. God, he really is tall.
“So…” He reaches up, lightly trailing the backs of his knuckles along my cheek. “This gorgeous blush isn’t for me? You’re not even a little tempted?”
He slowly presses into me until I’m pinned between his lean, muscled body and the desk. He’s not trapping me, exactly. There’s enough room that I could shove past him and move away.
But I can’t. Something about the feel of his body brushing against mine, his accented voice vibrating in his chest, renders me completely immobile.
Am I tempted?
Oh, holy fuck, yes.
I’m so turned on I can hardly speak. I want the thin thread of tension between us to snap, I want to see what it feels like to really press my body against his, to wrap my arms around him and drag him close until his lips find mine—
But I have to maintain my cover.
And Roxie, apparently, wasn’t even a little tempted.
Besides, I don’t know this guy at all, and given my current situation, doing anything with him would be a horrible idea.
“By you? Nah. All that big talk, and you’re probably just a two-pump chump,” I manage to stammer, and I do mean stammer. It’s weak, and my heart clearly isn’t in it.
Theo’s fingers trail down to my neck, where his thumb lightly strokes just above the hollow of my throat. I can’t read his expression at all.
“That’s a pity,” he whispers, and it sounds like he really means it. Then the wicked grin returns to his face, and he shrugs. “But, you know, maybe it was more fun our old way anyway.”
With that, he pulls back and slips out the door, faster than I can blink.
My legs give out, and I slump against the desk. I’m trembling, breathless, and embarrassingly, a little wet.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter 9
The next day is… terrifying. Nerve wracking. Insane. Take your pick of adjectives that describe fear, they all apply here.
I can barely get through the day. I sit in the very back of each of my classes, Cross’s cheat sheet in hand, scribbling down notes. I notice a few professors look at me oddly when the time comes to volunteer and I don’t step up or raise my hand.
Roxie was clearly the kind of person who would zip right up to the front of the class to demonstrate, but even with this generator around my neck, I’m not confident that I’d be able to pull any magic off well. Most spells require complicated hand movements, and although I’m a fast learner, I don’t think I’m quite ready to throw myself into the deep end of spell casting.
When lunch hits, I’m standing in line to get food in the dining hall when I feel a familiar presence behind me.
“How’s it going, cupcake?” Cross asks.
I sigh, not bothering to turn around. “It would be better if someone around here would call me by my actual name.”
“You mean…” He leans in so that his mouth is right by my ear, his voice dropping so low it’s barely more than a breath. “Gabbi?”
The quiet sound seems to travel straight through my body and land in my lower belly, setting off a cascade of butterflies. For some reason, my name on his lips makes my knees a little weak.
“Fuck you,” I shoot back, trying to regain my equilibrium.
Cross straightens back up, seeming unperturbed by my response. Geez, what is it about this guy? I don’t usually tell people to go fuck themselves this often, but somehow, that’s become my knee-jerk reaction to about half the things he says.
“Well, the rest of your classes are with me today, so you can rest easy. I’ll do the magic, and then you’ll only have to use your charm when I’m not around.”
I peer over my shoulder at him. “You… can do that?”
“Your charm is limited. My magic isn’t. I have an unlimited supply.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal, honestly.”
It sounds like it is a big deal, but I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth or push him too far. If he wants to pretend that this isn’t a major sap of his time and energy, then that’s fine. Maybe he just wants me to owe him later, but I don’t know. I feel like if he did, he’d be going out of his way to tell me what a big deal this is and how important this is and all the time he’s devoting to me. This is the opposite.
It’s like he doesn’t want me to know that he might actually be a decent guy. Better than decent.
“Roxie!”
I turn and see—oh, crap, Bianca.
I’ve been kind of ignoring her texts. Shit. I feel like a horrible friend, even though we’re not actually friends. But she doesn’t know that, so all she sees is that her best friend is basically dumping her. When—if—Roxie gets back, she’ll have a hell of a mess on her hands that I do not envy her over.
“Uh, I’m going to class,” I tell her, stepping out of the lunch line. I’ll have to eat later. “I’m sorry, I got a late start, I haven’t had a chance to look at your messages.”
Bianca frowns. “I’ve known you since we were taking cotillion lessons together. I’ve never seen you this weird and distracted before. What’s going on?”
Cotillion? Why does that sound familiar?
It takes me a moment to remember—it’s a dance, but not one I’ve ever done. It’s what debutantes do at their big fancy balls.
As I absorb Bianca’s words, I realize two things in quick succession.
I know Roxie has designer clothes and some damn fancy credit cards, but if she had a fucking debutante ball, that means she definitely comes from money. Old money, and a lot of it.
And if I’m remembering correctly, most girls have their debutante ball when they’re about sixteen years old, so that means Roxie and Bianca have known each other at least five years—probably longer.
No wonder she’s so pissed at me.
“Nothing’s going on,” I start to promise her, but Bianca grabs my arm and drags me to the side, shooting Cross a nasty glare.
“Are you sleeping with him?” she hisses.
“What?” I realize my voice is way too loud and quickly lower it. “I am not—! No, why the hell would I sleep with him?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you’ve slept with practically every other hot guy on this damn campus, and the only reason you were holding out on this one was because he’s a Grade A nimrod!” Bianca replies, her eyes narrowing. “Why else would you be spending all this time with him?”
“I told you, we have a project—”
“Right, sure, a project that somehow kept you out all day yesterday and then made you unable to return my texts this morning. That doesn’t sound like any other school project I know of.”
She pulled me a few yards away from Cross, but it wasn’t far enough. I know he can hear us, because the smirk on his face is so strong it could probably power the electricity in this entire building.
Actually, how is the electricity powered in this building? Magic?
Jesus Christ, Gabbi, this is not the time to be worrying about shit like that!
I focus back in. M
y face is burning over Cross just standing there smirking, knowing that we’re arguing over whether or not I’m sleeping with him. I wish he would just disappear, and at the same time I don’t, because I need his help, and it’s so frustrating I could scream. If only he was super helpful or a cocky jerk—not both at the same damn time!
“Look, Bianca.” I grab her arms and pray with all my might that she’ll believe me, and that however many years of friendship she and Roxie have had will get me through this lie. “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I’m being a little weird right now, but I promise—I’m good. Everything’s good.” Now for the cherry of truth on this big ol’ lie sundae. “And I’m not sleeping with that dickbag.”
The swear word seems to satisfy Bianca a bit, but she still doesn’t look like she entirely believes me. “I have to go to class,” she says, her tone slightly wary. “See you after?”
“Yeah. See you after.”
After Bianca leaves, I rejoin Cross in the lunch line, and then we grab a table near one of the tall, narrow windows that line one wall. We eat in silence for several long minutes. My face feels like it’s on fire, while Cross looks quite full of himself.
“She only thinks that because you’re such an ass that there’s no other reason she can conceive of for me to be spending time with you,” I snap.
“Whatever you say, cupcake. It’s no skin off my back what people think,” Cross replies with a lopsided grin. “After all, she’s your best friend, not mine.”
Ugh.
Why couldn’t my parallel world twin be some kind of loner who had no friends and didn’t speak to anyone and had average grades and kept her mouth shut? Why did she have to be Miss Popular, wearing all these fancy-ass clothes and getting top marks in all of her classes?
I’m never going to survive this.
Cross is with me for my other classes, sitting next to me and subtly doing the magic for me when we can get away with it. I make sure to copy his movements though, and try to memorize them in case I’m caught when he’s not here and I have to do the magic myself. Saving the generator I bought for emergency situations is a good idea, but it won’t work if I just stand there and don’t know how to activate any spells.
