A day early, but here's the last Wrong Answer post from my novel graveyard. Unfortunately this book didn't make it past the first two chapters. Next week we'll dive into something new!!
To catch up on the story, please first visit it HERE!
WRONG ANSWER (continued)
This was the ultimate in awful. And stupid, hands-all-over-me Nathan Wright was just sitting there, grinning and staring. I rolled my eyes and turned in my seat to look out the window.
“I have to run to the restroom,” Mrs. Hornsby said. I curled my lip. I really didn’t need all the info. “No talking while I’m gone.”
I watched as she walked out, a little awkwardly and I wondered just how bad the mean old lady had to pee. Nathan kicked my desk.
Glaring at him, I crossed my arms over my chest, mostly to block his view. “What is your problem?” I asked. “You’ve never talked to me before, you get me in trouble, you drag me out of my cafeteria seat and now your kicking my damn desk? Do you have a chemical imbalance?”
He laughed, reaching out to grab the back of my chair to slide it toward him. The room filled with a screech, but no way it was as loud as my heartbeat. When I was within touching distance, he stopped.
“Why are you so mean to me?” he asked, biting on his bottom lip and looking very amused. I wondered if Mrs. Hornsby fell in the toilet because it felt like she’d been gone forever. Although in reality it was probably more like fifteen seconds.
“Do you think your assholeness has anything to do with it?” I shrugged innocently.
But rather than scaring him off, my insults actually seemed to turn him on. Like, he actually said “Mm…” as if I was a tasty slice of cake in front of him. I dropped my arms, leaning away from him.
“I like you,” he said, mostly to himself.
“I don’t like you.” I actually sort of did.
“Yes,” he said, checking me out. “You do. I can tell.”
Really? He could tell a thing like that? “How?” I asked doubtfully.
But Nathan reached out and ran his index finger over the bridge of my nose, across my cheek. “Because you’re blushing,” he whispered.
Right. Well I was also freaking out! Nathan rested his hand on my desk, but he was leaning over and I could smell his cologne. He smelled good. His blue eyes crinkled when he smiled.
“Want to come to my house after this?” he asked.
“Uh, no.” I furrowed my brow. Did he even know who I was? Didn’t he realize that I was less than active in the high school sexual Olympics?
“Why not?” Absently, he reached up to take one of my curls, wrapping it around his finger playfully.
“You have pretty hair,” he said, bringing it up to his nose. “I like long hair like this.”
“Great,” I said, but I didn’t pull away. My hair had grown to halfway down my back and I admired the way he was caressing the blonde strands in his hand. It was relaxing.
“Come to my house,” he said quietly, smiling at me.
He was close. “No,” I whispered, mocking him.
His eyes narrowed on mine as his finger unwound my curl. He shrugged as if he didn’t give a damn anyway. Then he pushed my desk back from where he dragged me and stood up. I watched him, stunned silent, as he walked to the door and out of the classroom.
Hey! No fair. I still had detention.