Good Grades & Mystery Games (North University Series Book 2)
Good Grades & Mystery Games: Chapter 4

Something doesn’t feel right.

Since that conversation with my dad, I’ve been feeling on edge. Well, more on edge than usual. And I hate it. I especially hate that Scarlett spent the entire lesson ignoring my proposals and glaring at me with her killer hazel eyes.

This all feels like it’s too easy. My dad told me to get more involved with her and then Anderson’s project just fell into my lap. I’m lucky that neither of us are well-liked in this class. Still, I know I’m the last person she would want to work with.

I wasn’t lying about spending most of my money on short getaways during the semester, so my grades have started to slip. Being good at school always came pretty naturally to me, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been working hard at NU. With or without my family’s money, North University is an expensive place to get into and I can’t exactly risk my spot when I’m slowly being cut off from my family. I was planning on slowly inserting myself into Scarlett’s life, finally getting her to see me as a friend, let her open up to me and then do what my dad needs me to do. I wasn’t expecting to have to see her all the time so suddenly, especially when I don’t have a plan. And I always plan.

As soon as Anderson dismissed the class, Scarlett practically bolted away from me, not giving me any chance to ask her any follow-up questions. Not like she would answer any of them anyway.

Since Miles and Wren have started dating, I’ve had to see her more than usual and you’d think she would’ve warmed up to me by now, but she hasn’t.

Since first year, we’ve had this weird competitive thing going on which I thought she would drop after a few weeks, but she is relentless and if she wants to continue to play this game, I’m happy to play by her rules.

Most of the time, she says things that make me want to cover her mouth and tell her to shut up, but other times, her insults are so out of pocket that I have to stick my tongue in my cheek, so I don’t laugh. If she wants to pretend she doesn’t like me, I can play along. I’ve always been good at acting.

After that painfully awkward and irritating class, I was left alone with my thoughts to think of a game plan. Which lasted about three seconds before Miles and Xavier came back from practice.

They’ve been sitting in front of the TV, watching the football highlights for the past hour while I cook in the kitchen. I might have had chefs at my house growing up, but I know my way around a kitchen. Cooking is one of those calculated, put together things that I can do when I’ve had a long day that makes me feel more in control, which is exactly what I need right now.

I don’t know why this whole situation is getting me so riled up. If I had more time to think about a plan, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I want more than anything to get back in on the business, having more access behind the scenes, for my dad to stop looking at me like he’s disappointed in me, waiting for me to fuck up again.

A civil relationship with Scarlett could also be a benefit to both of us. It would make group hang out sessions less awkward and with both of our intelligence, we could create an outstanding project. If only she would let me in.

I finish preparing the vegetables, placing them in a pan for the stir-fry, grabbing some seasonings to add to the pot, loving the smell that wafts off them. This is what I need. Just me, the kitchen, and the smell of homemade chicken stir fry.

“Did you talk to her?” Miles shouts from the living room. At first I think he’s talking to Xavier because he has no volume control, but he doesn’t respond.

“Who?” I ask, turning down the heat on the food.

“Scarlett, you idiot,” he replies.

“Oh. Yeah. We have to work together on a project for class.”

Xavier and Miles laugh and when they come down from their hysterical laughter, Miles says, “Oh, I bet she’s loving that.”

There must be some sort of inside joke I’m missing. I get it. She doesn’t like me. She’s not necessarily my favourite person either when she’s being mean to me. I know people pick up on our animosity, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something going on behind closed doors that I don’t know about.

“Do you actually know why she doesn’t like me, or what?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck, a nervous tick I have had since I was a kid that I haven’t been able to get rid of.

“It’s a mystery,” Miles says dramatically, sighing. “Mostly, I think she just doesn’t like your face,” he mutters, and I throw him an evil look, narrowing my eyes.

“Carry on, Davis, because I know a few ways to poison food,” I retort.

“Hey! The food doesn’t deserve that,” Xavier adds in, and I roll my eyes. “Well, if it’s completely necessary, poison Miles’s food only.”

I’m about to thank Xavier for his basic decency to not piss me off, but Miles interrupts. “Do you remember that time when Scar was dating Jake and they came over and she accidentally threw a beer can at you?”

It was not accidental at all. Based on the way she smiled at me afterwards, flipping me the bird as she drank from her cup, it was a planned and calculated move to piss me off. For whatever reason, that is not the part of the sentence that I caught on.

“I thought she didn’t date,” I say and the way I sound like I actually care is pathetic. I don’t care if she dates or not because I know her reputation. It’s typical of girls with her status. She meets someone, sleeps with them, and never sees them again. I’ve met Jake a few times and it still baffles me that she ever let that rat anywhere near her for longer than a one-night-stand.

“She doesn’t,” Miles says.

“But you just-”

“Anyway, she’s a violent one,” he says, cutting me off as he shovels popcorn into his mouth, still watching the TV. He swallows, dusting the crumbs off his shirt, adding, “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.”

“I just don’t get it,” I mutter, turning off the cooker completely, rounding the wall into the living room, taking a seat across from them. “What is there not to like about me?”

Miles doesn’t miss a beat as he says, “You think you’re better than everyone else.” That’s because most times, I am. “You’re always calling people out on their mistakes.” It’s important to do so. “And you care too much about stupid things like school and money.”

I snort. “Miles, those are two very important things.”

“See,” he says, gesturing to me as he gets up, wandering into the kitchen. “That’s what I mean about you thinking you know everything.” Then he mumbles something about how money and school won’t matter when he’s in the NHL.

Great.

So, I’m back at square one. I still don’t know why Scarlett doesn’t like me and I don’t know how I’m going to get her to trust me and open up to me.

It’s easy enough to use the project as a front to talk to her, but she’s stubborn enough as it is. I need to think of a plan, and I need to think of one fast. Finding out what happened to her dad needs to be my main priority.

If she cracks in the process, I can pick up the pieces afterwards.