He blinks slowly a few times. “How does Max put up with you?”
I slam down the ball of dough on the cutting board. “I’ve been wondering the same, only about you.”
He grabs the dough from me, and I watch him finish it off then place it in the oven without even looking at the instructions. He’s probably one of those guys who is good at everything and anything.
How annoying.
I start filling out the worksheet the teacher gave us, happy to be doing theory work over practical. I hate this class, and I hate cooking—or baking, as it were—but I’m not about to get a bad grade for any class. I finish the worksheet quickly, and then slide it over to Dash. He did the baking, so the least I can do is play my part in the team by being of use. His lip twitches as he glances over my paper.
“How do I know you’re smart and those answers are correct?”
I roll my eyes at him and say, “How do I know the bread is going to taste good?”
He grins then, dimples making an appearance. He takes my paper and copies the answers. When he’s done, he lifts his head, looks at me, and says, “If the bread tastes like shit, it’s because you put too much oil.”
I can’t help it; I laugh. It’s either that, or throw something at his head. “You’re infuriating.”
He shakes his head. “And you’re not?”
“No.”
“You’re nosey,” he decides to point out. “Who stops and interrupts a private conversation?” He pauses. “On a Monday morning, the first school day of the year?”
I guess we were back to this again.
“Who yells at their baby sister on the first school day of the year, at a new school, where anyone walking by can hear?” I ask him back.
“I do, when my sister is wearing a short fucking skirt and when it’s not anyone else’s business,” he says, starting to sound angry.
“Well, next time, yell at her before she leaves the house,” I suggest, scanning the classroom for a distraction.
“I’ll do that,” he replies, voice laced with sarcasm and contempt.
I wonder if someone will exchange seats with me.
He taps his pen on the table, the sound filling the awkward silence.
“Are you and Max dating?” he asks after a few moments.
“No,” I reply, wrinkling my nose.
“Have you ever dated?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me.
“Nope.”
He nods, but looks adorably confused. “I don’t get the two of you.”
And I don’t get him. One minute I want to stab him with a fork, and the next I’m thinking about how adorable he looks. What is it about this guy that has my head reeling?
“You don’t have to,” I fire back, arching an eyebrow at him. Many people don’t get Max’s and my friendship, but many people don’t get a lot of things. In a time where loyalty and honesty are rare qualities, I’ll bet they don’t understand. They wouldn’t know what true friendship is if it hit them in the face.
He shrugs like he couldn’t care either way, and then goes back to ignoring me.
So I do the same to him. Except, every now and again, I peer at him from the corner of my eye. Luckily, he doesn’t catch me.
The bread turns out delicious. Dash doesn’t say anything, but his smug expression speaks for itself. I realise in this moment that while I’m fascinated with this boy, I don’t like him very much.
At all.
Chapter Three
It doesn’t take Dash long to find a girlfriend, and of course, I’m not surprised. Only a week into school, and I see him walking around with Jacquelyn Bateman, one of the most popular girls in our school.
Max whistles as he sees the two of them together. “Not bad, Dash, not bad at all.”
I look at him, my forehead furrowing. “You dated her last year. Isn’t this weird?”
Max just shrugs and puts his lollipop back in his mouth. “She’s fair game, Vi. I don’t really care who has her after me.”
“Charming,” I reply, dragging the word out. “This is why I remain single, because I have you as an example of what boys are really like.”
“We’re seventeen, Vi,” Max says, running a hand through his brown hair. “If anyone is looking for something permanent at this age, then they’re stupid. And you’re way too good for any of the boys at this school anyway.”
“That’s why they’re all lining up to ask me out,” I say wryly, looking back to Dash and Jackie.
Max stops in his tracks and pulls me to a halt with him. “Have you looked at yourself recently? You have a nice little body, a thick head of long-ass, silky dark hair, and brown eyes that are a little too wilful for my liking…” I kick his shin at this point of the speech. “Ouch! See?!” he grumbles then continues, “Bottom line: you’re hot. If I didn’t see you like family, well…but I do, so… Okay, fuck, this is getting awkward, but you get the drift.”
I lace my arm through his. “Thanks, Max. That’s very sweet of you.”
“Now let’s never mention it again,” he mutters then changes the subject. “I made us chicken salad rolls for lunch today.”
“Excellent,” I say with approval then cringe when I see Dash and Jackie walking up to us. Jackie is the girl who lost her shit when Max brought me with him to his basketball game, and I’m not exactly her favourite person.
Okay, she hates me.
“Max,” she purrs then looks to me, her expression dropping. “Viola.”
I don’t even reply, just lift my chin at her.
“Dash was just telling me about his game next week,” she continues. “I guess I’ll be there, being a supportive girlfriend.”
“And a supportive ex-girlfriend,” I point out, smirking. “Because you’ve been with almost everyone on the team.”
Max sighs and throws me a look that says ‘Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?’ while Dash studies me with an unreadable look on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.
“Jealous none of the boys like you, Viola?” Jackie sneers, wrapping her pink-tipped nails around Dash’s arm.
“Actually, lots of guys like Vi,” Max says, wincing as he looks down at me apologetically. “They just don’t ask her out, because they’re scared of me.”
My eyes narrow on Max’s guilty-looking face. I look at him from the point of view of a stranger. He’s tall, about six-foot-one, not as tall as Dash, but bulkier. I know none of the guys at school want to mess with him, but never once did I consider he’s the reason I’m never asked out.
I shrug, suddenly feeling better about myself. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not interested in anyone from this school anyway.”
Well, that’s a lie, but they don’t need to know that.
Or is it? I don’t know what I want from Dash. All I know is I like being around him. The fact he is dating Jackie speaks wonders about what he’s looking for right now, and although I shouldn’t judge him, I am.
“Whatever,” Jackie says, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. “Dash, will you walk me to class?”
“I actually have to go to the gym now,” Dash says, taking a step in that direction. “But I’ll see you later.”
He leaves, and so does an unhappy Jackie.
Max and I glance at each other at the same time, shrug, and then continue walking.
“Are we going to the movies on Friday night?” he asks, chewing on his lollipop, making loud crunching sounds.
“Yeah, why? Don’t tell me you have a date and want to cancel on me,” I say grumpily, staring up at him with my brows raised.
He puts his hand around my shoulder and grins. “No date this weekend, so you can relax. You act like I ditch you every weekend. That happened one time in all the years we’ve known each other!”
“And I’ll never let you forget it,” I say, poking my tongue out.
“Brat,” he grumbles.
When Dash falls into line with us, Max and I both give him side-glances.
“No gym?” Max asks, chuckling.
Dash shoots him a stern look, but says nothing else on the subject. “What do you know about a guy named Tom Richards?”