“I understand you think it was real, Ivan, but?—”
“You know what?” Ivan snaps, pushing to his feet. “Forget I told you anything.”
He grabs his backpack and heads for the door.
“Yeah, okay,” Jax says, watching him go. “Him storming out is becoming a thing.”
The door shuts.
I bring my hands to my face, dragging them down slowly. “What is wrong with him?”
Jax steps over the books Ivan dropped and moves back toward his desk like nothing happened, picking up a lighter and flipping it open, then shut.
“Your friend’s kind of messed up.”
I glance at him. “Guess you don’t know much about friendship.”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I have standards.”
“Wow.”
He looks up at me, one brow lifting slightly, like he’s waiting to see what I do with that. “Kidding.”
“You’re not.”
“I am,” he says, easy. “We could move past friends if you want.”
I straighten immediately. “What?”
He shrugs, barely holding back a smile. “I don’t know. Friends with benefits. Keep things interesting.”
I stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
He watches me, shaking his head. “You really don’t take jokes well.”
“That was not a joke.”
“Yeah, it was,” he says, still amused. “Relax.”
I cross my arms. “This whole thing is weird. Your sudden interest in the poor ballerina and the crazy nerd is a little hard to believe.”
“I’m not a jackass.”
“I didn’t say that, but?—”
“You were about to.”
I hesitate. “You just don’t seem like the type.”
He straightens slightly, attention locking in now. “What type is that?”
I immediately regret saying anything. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“No,” he says, calm. “Go ahead.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re going to twist it.”
“I’m listening.”
