Free Deceived by Julie Anne Lindsey Page A

sat in English. Three desks back, I faced my mystery man. He sat sideways in the row against the wall, leaning into it and stretching his legs into the aisle. Brian barely made eye contact. He gave no sign that he knew me. No clue he’d sought me out that morning. An infuriating hour later, class let out. The teacher and most of the class disappeared within seconds. Brian stayed seated. I fiddled with my backpack, hoping he’d look my way as he passed and headed out the door. When he finally stood, the room was empty aside from the two of us.
    I waited.
    “You have nowhere to be?”
    “Study hall, with you.” I raised my eyebrows.
    His face held no expression of recognition. Surely he had noticed that we had an entire schedule together, aside from homeroom and Trig? When he made no sign of speaking again, I turned for the door, my cheeks suddenly on fire.
    “Elle.”
    I turned back.
    “I’d like it very much if we could be friends.”
    I gagged internally.
    “I know that’s probably not something you’ll find acceptable. I’m not acting much like a friend, am I?”
    My hands anchored to my hips. “No. You’re not. In Elton, you were at least friendly, and now you’re hot and cold. You won’t be seen talking to me. No one knows where you came from.”
    He winced at the word Elton . His eyes definitely widened a fraction at the last accusation. He smiled. “You’re asking around about me?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Why not ask me?”
    Because you’re never around. Because you have a habit of taking off before I can. Because your sculpted chin and perfect, square jawline distract me.
    “Fine.” My eyes jumped to the clock over the door. I dared an apologetic smile before knocking twice on my desk and turning away once more. I needed to go before the next bell rang or I combusted, whichever came first.
    He chuckled.
    I turned.
    Brian stretched, resting interlocked fingers behind his head, elbows pointing out. Beneath his shirt, his biceps bulged and the muted outline of his tattoo taunted me. Images of his bare chest and tan arms clogged my mind and throat. My head lightened. I spun on my heels and headed for the door alone, dodging the dribble of students arriving for class. I had a feeling he watched me leave. All those years spent on the treadmill just paid off.
    Pixie was already seated when I got to study hall, and her knees bounced a wild rhythm. She drew patterns in the carpet with the eraser end of her pencil. When she looked up, she started and clapped her hands in a fast silent way, then patted the carpet beside her. I sat and she shoved a paper at me with words already written.
    “Every girl in this school is going insane over your boy.” Thank goodness she didn’t name him in case of note confiscation.
    “I don’t blame them.” I was enamored and infuriated. I had no idea how to act. Dad and I had never stayed anywhere long enough for me to get involved. The handful of dates I’d been on hadn’t had half the thrill of sitting across the room from Brian. I’d walked into new territory on a number of levels. I couldn’t stay mad. When he wasn’t being a colossal jerk, he seemed like the guy I had met at the coffee shop. Maybe Pixie was right. Being at a new school was tough for most people, and I had Pixie.
    “Have you talked to him?”
    Hmm. Lie or tell the truth? Cosmically on cue, he walked in. He looked more out of place than ever. His posture was perfect, his stride confident. He walked to the table he had sat at the day before and dropped his bag before making a trip to the vending machine. His selection captured my attention as if the fate of my world depended on it. He bought a bottle of flavored water, returned to the table, and pulled an apple from his bag. I should’ve expected as much. He didn’t look like that by eating cafeteria food and drinking coffee.
    Pixie shoved the paper at me again, having underlined the previous sentence three times.
    “For a minute. Nothing fun.” I