I gasp at the thought. How dare she drag Gage into our verbal sparring match. He looks up from his notebook for the first time during class, those cobalt eyes meeting mine for exactly half a second before flitting away.
Wait a minute. Is Chloe somehow aware of the beef that Gage is having with me?
“Jock Strap,” Marshall bites the air as he says Gage’s abhorrent nickname. “What says you?”
“I think,” Gage says it flat as if he were indifferent if the room erupted in flames right about now, “that some equations are more trouble than they’re worth.”
My mouth falls open.
He. Did.Not.
“What the hell?” Logan mutters from behind.
Ouch. That one hits right in the heart. And in the uterus. What is he thinking? We’ve got triplets to make.
Okay, fine. He’s hurting. Badly. And once again, it’s all my fault. And well, partly Logan’s.
“Interesting perspective,” Marshall says, more than a little amused. “Although I’ve always found that the most challenging problems often yield the most rewarding solutions.”
The way he says it while looking directly at me makes my cheeks heat dangerously.
I think Marshall just entered the competition,Logan observes.
This is not a competition. This is a disaster with really good-looking participants.
I cringe a little because I didn’t mean to say that last bit to Logan.
Chloe’s smile turns predatory. “Some people prefer simpler math. Less chance of making mistakes.”
“And some people,” I counter, “prefer problems that actually challenge them instead of settling for basic addition.”
Wait, that’s not right. I so need to get back to Paragon proper. Where the hell is my mother, anyway? I’m too old, too tired, and apparently too hopped up on teenage hormones for this nonsense.
The bell rings before Chloe can respond, which is probably for the best since I was about two seconds away from saying something that would get me detention for the rest of my natural life. Not that Marshall would give me such a menial punishment. He’s known for his more creative, lusty punishments that most likely involve soft restraints.
Students start gathering their books and filing out, with the usual chaos of a class change taking over. Gage is up and moving before I can even think about approaching him, and he disappears out the door like smoke.
So much for our united front approach,Logan thinks as we pack up our stuff.
He’s really committed to this whole avoidance strategy, isn’t he?
Marshall appears next to my desk as the last students filter out, close enough that I can smell that dangerous cologne of his. “Ms. Messenger, a word?”
Logan raises an eyebrow but heads for the door. “I’ll see you in the hall.”
Once we’re alone, Marshall leans against his desk with that casual confidence that probably comes standard with supernatural powers and abs you could scrub your underwear on.
“Everything all right?” he asks, and for once his voice doesn’t carry any of that playful flirtation. “You seem tense.”
“Just the usual teenage drama,” I say, shouldering my backpack. “Nothing I can’t handle. After all, I’ve done it before.” I give a wry smile because I’m not exactly happy about it. “And I know how everything ends.”
“Mmm.” His amber eyes study my face like he’s reading a particularly interesting book. “And how’s that working out for you?”
I give him a look that could strip paint. “About as well as your teaching methods are working for Chloe’s education.”
Marshall gives a predatory smile. “Touché. Though I think Ms. Bishop’s education extends well beyond mathematics. And as an educator, I’m beholden to foster any and every scholastic opportunity.”
“Lucky her.” I make a face because we both know it’s Marshall who’s getting lucky.
