Fake It ‘Til You Break It
: Chapter 4

All morning I told myself I’d walk into class today with my head held high.

I’m not embarrassed, and it’s no big deal and who knows, maybe I overreacted and he was zoned out. Didn’t know I was their willing audience.

I repeat this mantra the entire drive to school, and by the time I’m turning the engine off, I’m feeling good.

Lipstick in hand, I flip down the overhead mirror and take my time applying before stepping out. I shove the door closed, and turn, a gasp leaving me when an unexpected body blocks me in.

Nico.

My hand flies to my chest, attempting to settle my pulse. “You scared the shit out of me,” I tell him.

But Nico doesn’t speak, instead sliding his feet closer, leaving only inches between us, so I push back against the car.

His stare is unwavering, giving me no insight as to what’s on his mind and causing me to grow restless.

I fidget but don’t look away as he cocks his head.

“You a fan of porn, D?”

“I—” Shit.

Nico plants his hands at the curve of my hood, his arms flexing so damn close to my face my mind transports back to last night, to the tight grip he had on the rock edge of the spa, to the vision of his muscles flexing as he slid—

A raspy chuckle leaves him, and he pushes off.

“You know, I’d have invited you over, VIP seats had I known. Bet Sandra would have been all right with it, she’s first string material and she knows it.”

That rouses me, and I shove off the car with a glare. “I thought you said Alex was the one sleeping with Sandra?”

He only licks his lips.

“Weird, right?” I keep going. “Since it was you I saw—”

“Watched,” he cuts me off, leaning closer. “You watched me fuck her.”

Oh, screw it!

“You know what, yeah, I did. Until the final bow, in fact,” I sass. “If you knew I was watching you guys, why’d you keep going?”

Very slowly, a single, dark eyebrow raises, his tone is even more patronizing than the move. “You’d expect me to stop?”

Right.

As if he could have stopped amid that.

They were so lost in each other they didn’t even – or couldn’t even – realize how loud they were being.

He had Sandra in tunnel vision, a tunnel that leads straight down his shaft.

I mean, he was enjoying her just as much, his groans… deep and exhilarated as he chased his release.

The way his—

“Your skin’s growing warm, D.” Nico pulls me out of my thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” he whispers, the teasing edge in his heady voice not missed.

The way he studies me with such piercing scrutiny has my toes curling in my shoes to keep focus, and it makes me wonder…

How ‘lost in her’ was he really, if the entire time he was aware of my prying eyes?

“Am I interrupting something?”

My head flies right to replace Trent standing near the hood of my car, some sort of drinks in his hands.

Eyes wide in shock, and a stupid grin on his lips, he gawks at his best friend and me.

Nico, though, he doesn’t bother to acknowledge Trent’s presence.

I roll my tongue over my teeth before glancing back to him.

He keeps his hazardous gaze locked on me the entire time, but if I still knew the boy in front of me, I’d swear humor swims deep within them.

Yeah, he knows what I was thinking.

Nico licks his lips, nods a little, then moves for his buddy. “Catch you in class, D.”

Catch me thinking about your perfect form? Please don’t!

I groan internally, dropping my head against the car, but quickly remember I need to thank him if not apologize.

“Nico, wait!” I call out.

He freezes mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. Of course, he doesn’t bother turning all the way around but nods for Trent to keep walking, so I move toward him.

“Thanks for bringing me my phone last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

He faces forward. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes at his back, walking as he does. “Well, I’m sorry for being bitchy when you were being helpful.”

He scoffs, pushes the door open and shifts to hold it with his back, indicating with a jerk of his chin for me to step through.

My eyes lock with his as I pass him, and he drops his head against the small glass window. “See you in class, D.”

Something in my stomach stirs, but I don’t say anything, only nod and keep past him.

Trent catches up to me around the corner. “Okay, what did I miss?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“That bad?” he jokes.

“Well, your brooding bestie likely hates me more now.” I look to him, giving a big innocent smile.

He scoffs, shaking the nasty looking green drink in his hands. “Trust me, he don’t hate you.”

Right as he says it, Nico comes around the corner, takes one look at us and glares.

I laugh, hitting Trent in the stomach as I walk off. “But he doesn’t hate me.”

Trent lifts his hands, grinning and moves away to meet his angrily awaiting friend.

I head to first period, making it right as the bell rings, the whole way reminding myself to forget about the scene in the hot tub, knowing for a fact… I won’t.

From there, the day goes by rather quickly, each class getting deeper into lectures now that the new school year is in full swing, so there was no time to sit and be embarrassed over everything with Nico, who doesn’t so much as glance my way when I drop into the chair beside him in chemistry.

Mr. Brando, thankfully, gets right to it, clapping his hands to gain the students’ full attention. “I won’t say from who, but counting all five of my classes, I have received a total of twenty-one emails from students asking for new partners.” He shakes his head, disappointed.

The scoff from Nico couldn’t be more obvious – or loud. Asshole.

His friends glance our way with light chuckles, but he doesn’t acknowledge them. He doesn’t acknowledge the glare from his ex, who in a horrible twist of events is the new teacher’s aide during our class period, either.

Clearly, he assumes I was one of them when truth be told I didn’t even bother, not after the teacher’s comment when I first tried.

Mr. Brando folds his arms in front of him. “A little insight for you on me as a teacher? I like to work on more than my required curriculum. The first week is spent going over necessary review, yes, but I also use that time to study each of you as individuals. Everyone, especially those who aren’t so sure about the experience you will have with the person you were assigned to, look around the room. Check out each pairing in this class.”

I do as asked and am surprised by the clear line he drew between each duo. At first glance, it’s completely stereotypical – athletes with drama students, shy with exuberant, goth with preppy – but his next words prove this was his exact intent.

“I paired everyone in here with someone as opposite, visually and on paper, as I could replace, some may seem subtler than others, but I assure you, there is a reason. I started by looking at who you requested, then went over your schedules from freshman year to now. I know all your extracurriculars, the ones the school knows about anyway, spoke to your past teachers, coaches, and here you are.”

I spot Ella Marshal with Samuel Banks in the front corner, and my brows lift in surprise.

Samuel is a rude, cocky basketball player who thinks he’s godly and pays no mind to those he considers less than him. And Ella, shit, I don’t think she’s ever even made eye contact with a guy before.

Right now, Samuel is leaning back in his seat, trying to hide his phone between his legs while Ella is leaning as far away as possible, arms folded in her lap, head slightly down. It’s almost cruel to put them together.

But me and Nico? Alex and Evan? What, were we the leftovers? Our pairings don’t seem so extreme now.

We run in the same crowd, we’re both athletes.

His best friend is dating one of mine, that more than screams ‘same circle’.

I glance at Nico, and what do you know, he’s already giving me those side-eyes he’s practiced in, not bothering to shift his head my way.

Mr. Brando starts talking again, so I face forward.

“There will be many times in life where you are forced to get along with, not just tolerate, someone opposite of you or someone you frankly don’t like for whatever reason.” He walks to the front of the classroom, scanning over everyone. “I like to think part of my job is to assist you in seeing beyond the hair, the clothes, the crowd, and reach the person underneath. That being said, please place your materials back in your bags.”

I frown but do as he asks, glancing around the room to see the same confusion on the other’s faces.

“A few days a week, our class time will be spent in different areas of the school. Phones will be left on the tops of the desks, where I can see them”—he knocks his knuckles on Samuel’s side of the table and his head snaps up from his screen—“and the fifty-three minutes of class time will be spent simply getting to know each other. I have a prompt for you for the first few days, but you don’t have to use it. You can be inventive. Anything you wish to speak about, you may, so long as everyone remains respectful. Today we will be in the quad, neutral ground. So, ladies and gentlemen, phones face down, and make your way out the door, grab a paper from me on your way.”

Everyone does as we’re asked and we shuffle out and toward the quad.

People start dropping onto picnic tables and grassy areas, some shifting uncomfortably while others have no choice but to follow steps behind their demanding partners.

I glance around, noticing Evan and Alex walk clear to the other side.

“Is here okay?” I ask Nico. We’re only steps out the door, but already at the edge of the grass.

Nico doesn’t say anything, but sits and pats the ground beside him for me to join, like I wasn’t already about to.

I get set to read over the paper, but Nico’s hand comes down to cover it and I look to him with a frown.

He quirks a dark brow.

“What?”

“Can’t ask your own questions, things you might be curious about?”

“Who says I’m curious about anything?”

His jaw tics, and after a few seconds of silence, Nico snatches the paper from my hands, crumpling it in his own.

I gape at him. “What’s your problem?”

His gaze narrows. “Let’s do this a little different, yeah?”

“Different how?”

“Mr. B said it’s about misconception, right?” Nico starts, licking his lips. “So, tell me, D. What do you see when you look at me?”

“I…” I start, but quickly trail off.

What do I see?

I look from his hair, shaved at the side, perfect little mess at the top, to his deep cocoa-colored eyes and long lashes. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt, nothing fancy, and no sleeves – to show off his arms maybe? And I mean, they’re worth the show. Not bulging but clear evidence of the weight training class the team is required to take zero period, and they only tighten, becoming more prominent when he moves them around. He wears perfectly fitted jeans – not skinny but not baggy, and his shoes always match his shirt in some way.

My eyes roam over my form, and I begin to equate his perfection to my own body. I’ve always been comfortable in my own skin, but more and more my mom likes to comment about how I’m still a ‘work in progress’.

“D.”

My stare pulls back to Nico, who observes me with unreadable eyes.

“Why do you think he paired us together?” I blurt out.

His frown is quick.

“Look at these other partners, I’d bet they’ve never spoken to each other. Me and you, though?”

Nico simply watches me, his expression as ungiving as ever, so I glance away.

Way to put yourself on the playboy’s level, Demi.

“Look at me.” His voice is an easy command.

I do, and disapproval stares back. “Why you comparing yourself?”

“I wasn’t,” I deny too quickly.

His head drops back. “You’re lying.”

I’m clearly caught, so I give an extremely overdramatic sigh as my affirmation and shake my head.

I swear he swallows a small laugh, though when I quickly search for proof he’s human after all, it’s gone.

He pauses a moment, then asks, “What do you know about me?”

“You… play football, have for years.”

He nods. “You dance, hip-hop mostly.”

Common knowledge.

I nod, willing myself not to go where I expected him to start.

It doesn’t work and the words escape. “You have a thing for sex in water.”

He doesn’t even blink. “You’ve never had sex.”

My head tugs back at his sudden and so surely stated claim.

I eye him as he does me, and a slow frown takes over.

I’m not stupid, I know what he’s doing and it won’t work.

He can mock or make fun of me all he wants.

I shake my head. “I’m not gonna confirm or deny what you’ve heard, so don’t bother with this little tactic.”

His pointed expression deepens, and the longer he’s silent, the more I fidget.

Very slowly, his eyes narrow. “Confirm… what, exactly?” He leans closer. “And heard what from who?”

I scoff, looking away.

I get it, I opened myself up for this by bringing up his sex life, that’s my mistake, but he has to know I’m not a virgin, and I’m sure as hell not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing me say it out loud.

Nico’s gaze is laser focused for a long moment before he finally glances off.

He doesn’t say another word the rest of class, nor does he the remainder of the week.

When week two rolls around and it’s more of the same wasted time, I’m over it and attempt to strike casual conversation, but Nico quickly affirms his attitude.

He falls asleep propped against the tennis court gates, and since I have no material to study, I sit silently, replaying my routine over and over again in my head until we are told we can go collect our things.

Nico is suddenly wide awake and gone as soon as he’s excused, but I hang back, cautiously approaching our teacher once the majority of students are gone.

“Ms. Davenport, how can I help you?” The weariness in his tone isn’t missed. I can imagine he’s getting complaints left and right with the intense sets of pairings he set up.

I take another step toward him, so the stragglers still sliding in to get their phones can’t overhear. “I know you asked me not to complain, but I’ve tried to talk to Nico and he’s about as interesting as a cardboard box. He doesn’t want to converse, which is fine on a normal day, but I need to know this isn’t going to affect my grade because I don’t know what to do at this point.”

“Is he helpful during labs?” he asks.

“He’s getting his work done, but there’s no partnering happening at all.”

He drops into his chair. “Have you tried getting on his level?”

I scoff. “What level would that be?”

When Mr. Brando frowns, I look away.

“I tell you what,” he begins, so I give him my attention. “Since you’re the first person to approach not asking me to reconsider, I’ll help you out next class,” he says vaguely. “The rest will be up to you. Earn the grade, Ms. Davenport, and you might even earn a new friendship, too.”

I nod even though I got absolutely nowhere and drag myself to my next class.

Thank god it’s hump day, because I’m over this shit.

I’m surprised to replace my mom’s car in the driveway when I get home, and even more so when she’s sitting at the little bar top, waiting for me.

Her eyes fall to my sports bra. “You had dance today?”

“Yeah, I was at the studio.”

She nods as she sets down her coffee cup and leans back in her seat. “So, Nico Sykes.”

Ah. Right.

Guess this is the first chance she’s had to grill me.

“He’s my new partner for lab.”

“Oh?”

“Mom, stop.” I wash my hands quickly, drying them on a paper towel. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t even say anything.” She gives an innocent shrug, running her finger over the rim of her cup.

I hold in my eye roll and wait, but it doesn’t take her long.

“I asked around, did you know it was him who was caught in a scandalized position with Mr. Clemmons’ daughter?”

I pull open the fridge.

Yes. One blue Gatorade left.

I unscrew the top and take a quick drink. “Yes, Josie was, or still is sometimes, his girlfriend.”

“Would you say he’s a troublemaker?”

“He’s a high school senior. It’s not like he was arrested.”

“Still, public indecency is real.”

“And Josie Clemmons didn’t even get her black card taken away.”

My mom nods, pretending to act casual. “That’s a wealthy girl, great family. I bet he seduced her with those… those eyes of his.”

I fight a laugh, grabbing a croissant from the box on the counter.

Even my dear mother who thinks she’s too good for the world can’t deny Nico’s visual appeal.

“Those eyes, Mom? Really?”

Hers narrow, warning me not to say another word, but just as quickly, she smiles. “I was thinking, maybe I should walk around the corner, say hello to the Sykes. Maybe invite them for dinner?”

A scoffed laugh escapes. “You don’t cook.”

Anger quickly fills her eyes, so I clear my throat and try again.

“Why the sudden interest in being neighborly?”

“He’s your partner.” She pretends her intent is innocent, when we both know that’s never the case when she’s involved. “Perhaps you’ll be smart, and we’ll be seeing more of him.”

“What does that mean, ‘be smart’?”

“Oh, please, Demi. If he had Roger Clemmons’ approval to date his daughter, then there must be something promising about the boy. It’s worth looking into.”

“So you want to, what, see if he meets your scale of measure?”

Her expression hardens, and she decides to belittle me as she feels I’ve done to her. “Put the bread away, Demi.”

I throw the croissant in the trash, set my Gatorade down with a hard slam, and walk out.

I’m not going to do this with her right now.

She knows Nico’s family is wealthy, and now that she’s seen his physical appeal, she’s interested in learning more so she can come to a shallow decision of whether or not she’ll hound me about him constantly or warn me to keep my distance.

My dad mentioned a long time ago Nico and his family inherited a huge estate from one of his mom’s late aunts or something that set them up for life and landed them here in Santa Cruz.

It must have been when Nico was a baby or something, because for as long as I can remember, he and I shared a fence.

Now we just happened to share a lab table, too.

There is no way it would ever be more than that.