We’re sitting together, and she’s talking to me, so all in all, that’s progress. It’s all I can ask for with a girl like her.
Chapter 6
When tiny droplets flick across my cheeks, I close my eyes and inhale, steadying myself. It’s not Scotty’s fault that a little water sends me straight back to the incident.
Pause.
Actually—yes. Yes, it is.
Scotty shakes his head, and a fresh spray of water speckles my face. I grit my teeth.
“Do they not have hair dryers in the locker room?” I snap, swiping my sweater over the page to dry it.
“I'm sorry. I figured you'd prefer me out here, ready to work, rather than wasting extra minutes drying my hair.”
I don't look up, partly because I think he views me as a walking joke, but mostly because if I do, I start to think about things I absolutely should not.
Hot dogs…baguettes…hoagie dicks.
Ever since Lyss planted that horrifying, deranged visual in my head, I can't stop thinking about his nether regions.
Oh, and there are also the eyes and his square-cut jaw… he's too pretty to take seriously, and it’s hard to concentrate.
“Okay. Have you finished reading the first act? I think it’s important we start from there.” My eyes are focused on my notes because I’m doing everything in my powernotto think about Scotty Hendricks. The hockey player I absolutely, definitely, resolutely refuse to call cute.
“The first act?” he echoes. “I’ve read the play.”
I finally look up at him and raise an eyebrow in disbelief. His grin widens, and I’m starting to think he likes to tick me off.
“Multiple times, in fact. Not every hockey player treats books like foreign objects, you know.”
I amnottaking that bait. Nope. Not today.
“Great,” I say instead. “Then we’re on the same page. I was Juliet's understudy in high school and pretty much know the text by heart at this point.”
“Right, theater major,” he says, pointing at me. “I knew that.”
When he looks up at me, I lose my breath.
Blue. So freaking blue.
Every time I look into Scotty Hendricks’ eyes, it feels like staring into some deep, dangerous abyss I’ll no doubt drown in if I get too close. His dimples pop as he offers me a smile, and I hate that he's so cute with it.
“Of course you did,” I say automatically. “You’re my little stalker, after all.”
What was that?
It was supposed to come out as a cutting retort, but it was more of a flirty tease. I want to shove the words back into my mouth and delete them from existence.
“Anyway,” I say quickly, “we need to divide up the arguments. Who wants what?”
“I'll take personal agency,” Scotty says immediately, pulling out his own notebook. I notice it's full of meticulous notes, surprisingly neat handwriting filling the lines. “Their choices drive the tragedy.”
Of course he would. “Fine. Then I'll argue external forces—they're victims of circumstance.”
Hetaps his pen against the page, tilting his head as he watches me. “You really think they had no control over what happened?”
“I think their 'choices' were severely limited by forces beyond their control.” I offer as I pull out my laptop, kicking my bag full of my princess gear to the side. “I’m guessing you think Juliet made a reckless choice by poisoning herself?”
