Chapter Five
Ella
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, thrusting a document into Tray’s face.
Not two minutes into my Wednesday morning and already I was in a mood. Courtesy of the new student jackass who had taken the table in front of mine in English again.
Just because we had a project to work on together did not mean we needed to sit near one another. I’d address that point just as soon as he explained the paper he’d left on my chair.
He barely looked at it, his eyebrow inching upward to his hairline. “A list of questions for our dinner Saturday.” He folded his arms, his legs doing that man sprawl he seemed to prefer. Somehow it made him appear both lazy and elegant at the same time. “If you could put yours together for me to review by tomorrow, that’d be great. I want to make sure I’m prepared.”
I sputtered, glancing at the words on the page and then back at him. “These are your interview questions?” I started reading them out loud. “Favorite date location. Favorite flower. Favorite dessert. Favorite place to be kissed.” I shook my head. “This sounds like an online dating site, not a class assignment.”
“Consider it a creative combination of activities.” His lips curled, a pair of dimples creasing at the ends. “I can’t wait to see your questions for me, Isabella. Feel free to request demonstrations as well.”
My eyes narrowed. “Can you demonstrate stabbing yourself?”
“Sure,” he replied, fisting his hand over his chest and giving it a good bump. “Does that work for you, darling?”
“With a knife would be even better.”
He tsked. “There are so many more-intriguing ways to use a weapon.” He pushed off his chair, his over-six-foot frame dwarfing my five-foot-five one. I fought to maintain my stance as he moved into my personal space, his palm landing on my hip. “Perhaps I’ll bring a dagger Saturday to show you.”
I narrowed my gaze up at him. “I already told you that I prefer a weekday.”
“Which is just too bad because Saturday is my only offer.” He slid his hand upward to my side, his touch a brand through my thin, academy-embroidered blouse. “Unless you want to fail our first assignment together?” he offered. “I would be happy to play the rebel card with you any day, darling.”
“What do you have going on after school that makes you only available on the weekends?” I demanded.
“Yes, I like that question. Add it to your list.” His hand moved to my lower back, pulling me forward into the warmth of his body. “But try to be creative with the other questions, Isabella. I intend for us to get to know one another. Intimately.”
I hated the shiver that final word elicited.
Hated even more that I liked the shiver, as well as the way it made my belly flip.
You know better, I chastised myself. These boys only want to play.
I mean, Tray just tried to drown me yesterday. Sort of. Well, he looked a little concerned after, for all of a second. And he gave me a head start to get away. But he clearly meant to hurt me, just like Dash and Charlie. This was simply the mean clique’s newest way to mess with me.
“I’m not going to Homecoming with you,” I said, putting my foot down—literally—on his booted toes.
He didn’t even flinch. No, the damn guy actually had the audacity to smile. “Then I guess we’ll be failing together.” He released me and fell back into his chair. “If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be having a nice little nap right here.”
Tray closed his eyes.
And I growled.
“You can’t make me attend a dinner and a dance just to pass this assignment.”
His silence said otherwise.
I glanced around to see half the class observing our discord with keen interest; even Charlie appeared amused. “Cindersoot doesn’t know how to dance, Nacht. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know how to wear a dress.”
That elicited several snickers and caused me to roll my eyes. “I’m wearing a skirt right now, Charlie Joe.”
“Not the same as a dress, Ella Sewer,” he returned. “But we all know it’d have to be a charity case from your sisters anyway.”
“Stepsisters,” I corrected. “And mind your own business.” I kicked Tray’s shoe, resulting in him opening one eye at me. “Dinner at six. No dance.”
“Nope,” he replied. “Dinner and the dance, and I want a list of questions tomorrow morning.” He went back to his nap.
I muttered an obscenity in response just as Professor Montgomery flounced into the room, her gaze twinkling with excitement. “Good morning,” she greeted us in a singsong voice, already taking over the class and forcing me back to my seat.
By the end of her hour-long lecture, I wanted to kill Trayton Nacht. The stubborn asshole was not going to leave me with any choice other than to accept his outlandish request. Otherwise, I’d forfeit the assignment grade, and I couldn’t afford to do that.
I needed to maintain my grade point average to achieve my college goals of moving across the country and living far, far away from my evil stepsisters and stepmother. As all of my applications were currently under review, the last thing I needed was a failure on my record.
My teeth ground together, my stomach twisting in knots.
All right, I’d play his game.
I’d agree to dinner and the dance, and I’d make his life hell the entire time. Starting with my wardrobe choice. My lips tugged upward. Yeah, I had the perfect outfit in mind. If I was lucky, he’d finish our interview at the house as a result of not wanting to be seen in public with me.
“All right, Tray,” I said to him, standing and pulling my bag onto my shoulder. “You win.”
“Do I?” he asked, having paused midstep when I said his name. He glanced over his shoulder. “Six o’clock?”
“Six o’clock,” I agreed.
“And the dance?”
I forced a smile. “Sure, Tray. We’ll go to the dance.”
His gaze twinkled. “You won’t regret it.”
I nearly snorted and instead just shook my head, leaving him behind me. Because yeah, he was right. I wouldn’t regret this weekend at all. But he definitely would. I’d make sure of it.
“Don’t forget your questions tomorrow,” he called after me.
I flipped him off in response.
He’d get his interview questions.
And a hell of a lot more.
Chapter Six
Tray
Isabella stood waiting for me at the front of her long, winding driveway in a pair of black ripped jeans and an oversized, ink-stained sweatshirt. Her blonde hair was tousled up into a messy bun, and her face was sans makeup.
My lips kicked up at the sides, amusement warming my chest.
If she thought this homeless look would turn me off, she had another think coming.
“Hello, darling,” I said as I walked around the hood of my car. “Ready for your big night?”
Shock briefly widened her pupils, followed by a hint of intrigue as she took in the cut of my all-black suit. Her tongue slipped out to lick her lips, the little tell flooring me almost as much as her immediate recovery—when she narrowed her blue eyes into slits. “You consider Homecoming a big night?”