Marshall’s Algebra 2 classroom smells like a lethal combination of whiteboard markers, teenage desperation, and whatever cologne he’s wearing that should probably come with a warning label about inducing severe swooning.
The scratching of pencils against paper mingles with the soft patter of rain still hitting the windows, creating a sound that would be soothing if not for the fact that Gage has been avoiding me like I’m carrying some highly contagious STD—one that he’s convinced I got from Logan.
Gage and I have every single class together, which under normal circumstances is fantastic. Today, it’s like being trapped in a very small elevator with someone who’s pretending you don’t exist. He’s sitting three seats away, which might as well be three continents given how determinedly he’s staring at his notebook.
Marshall prowls around the front of the classroom as if he owns not just the space but everyone in it, and honestly, the way half the girls are sighing and batting their eyelashes, he so does. His hair isperfectly tousled in that way that probably took Michelle Miller an hour to achieve in bed, but looks effortless, and his smile could melt steel beams.
“Now, who can tell me what we get when we solve for X in this particularly challenging equation?” Marshall asks, his voice carrying that slight celestial—yet quasi-British—accent that makes even mathematical concepts sound like seduction.
Practically every female hand in the room shoots up like they’re volunteering for something much more interesting than algebra, and when Marshall’s molten gaze lingers on mine, I realize I might be willing to volunteer for his advanced curriculum myself.
What am I saying?Geez.These teenage biological impulses are no joke. No wonder I was making out with every Tom, Dick, and Harry way back when. On second thought, it was more like every Logan, Gage, and Marshall. At least I was consistent in something.
Logan’s leg brushes against my ankle under the desk—our old school signal for a telepathic conversation. The moment our skin connects, his voice fills my head, warm and familiar.
Having fun watching the Marshall Dudley Fan Club meeting?
Oh, for sure. This is better than stumbling across Ellis’ stash with a lighter,I think back, watching as Lexy Bakova practically levitates out of her seat, trying to get Marshall’s attention. At least her boobs aren’t on full display like Michelle’s. And Chloe’s. And Nat’s. Props to Kate and Em for keeping the girls in check. Bree is sort of a wild card and oddly has one prominently displayed, and is holding back the other. She’s such a tease.
Okay, so that whole stumbling across Ellis’ stash thing really did happen once and—well, never mind how I decided to resolve it. Let’s just say teen heartbreak meets a pile of weed, equals one very mellow night with fewer tears and far more giggles. Add a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and you’ve got one hell of a chef’s kiss at play.
Speaking of entertainment,I continue with Logan,Gage has been giving me the arctic treatment all morning. I’m starting to think I’ve been blacklisted.I turn just enough to see Logan’s reaction, which is basically a dry chuckle.
Join the club. I tried to say good morning, and he looked at me like I’d asked him to donate a kidney.
I sigh just hearing it.I guess our little heart-to-heart in the butterfly room didn’t go over as well as we hoped. I may have put him in the friend zone, and oddly enough, he sort of landed me there at the very same time.
I can hear Logan shift in his seat.That’s not like him. I think maybe we broke him.
I turn and frown at him for even going there.Maybe we should talk to him together. Show a united front.
Good idea. Assuming he doesn’t teleport to Mars the second he sees us coming.
Our silent conversation is interrupted when Chloe’s hand shoots up with the kind of enthusiasm that immediately makes my spidey senses tingle.
“Mr. Dudley,” she purrs, and I swear half the room grunts in collective jealousy at her ability to make his name sound like a proposition. “I’m having trouble with this concept. Could you give me some personal attention?”
Marshall’s smile is pure sin as he saunters over to her desk. “Of course, Ms. Bishop. I live to serve every one of my students’ educational needs.”
The innuendo in that statement is enough to violate several state laws and at least two commandments. And according to Chloe, she’s already broken more than a few commandments with the seductive Sector—as demons are prone to do.
“I just find it so hard to concentrate when the material is so—stimulating.” Chloe wiggles her boobs, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from making gagging noises.
Marshall’s mouth curves with devilish intent. “Mathematics can indeed be quite exciting when approached with the right mindset,” he replies, leaning over her desk in a way that gives her a perfect view of whatever cologne commercial he escaped from.
“Maybe Skyla could help me understand,” Chloe says suddenly, turning those wicked eyes my way with a smile that’s laced withvenom. “She seems to have such a natural grasp of complex relationships.”
And there it is. Trust Chloe to turn a math problem into a commentary on my love life.
“I’m sure Ms. Messenger would be happy to share her insights,” Marshall frowns as he says it. His eyes find mine with an intensity that makes the temperature in the room spike about ten degrees. “She does have a talent for solving difficult equations, and yet in the process, creating a heck of a lot of work for herself.”
Ain’t that the truth.
I slide down in my seat a notch. I’ve never felt so seen.
“Actually,” I say out loud, giving Chloe my brightest manufactured smile, “I find that most problems work themselves out if you just give them enough time. No need to force solutions that aren’t ready to happen.” I bite my lip as I glance at Gage, but he’s expertly ignoring everyone in the room now. It seems as if my contagion is spreading.
Chloe’s eyes narrow slightly. “But sometimes waiting too long means missing your opportunity entirely. Don’t you think, Gage?”
