Double Clutch - Реинхардт Лиз (хороший книги онлайн бесплатно .TXT) 📗

“No thanks.” I whirled on my heel and started towards English.

“Wait up!” He had to chase me down the hall a little, and I could tell he didn’t like it at all. I don’t think Saxon ever had to chase anyone anywhere. “We could just hang out then, right? As friends?” He gritted his teeth over the word.

“Why?” I asked. “You don’t really seem all that friendly.”

“I’m friendly when I want to be.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, like I was really irritating him. We were standing outside my locker and he had one hand pressed on the metal of the top compartment.

“I need to get in there.” I pointed where his hand was pressed.

“Say yes to one friendly date.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night.”

My heart rocketed into my throat. I didn’t want to admit that I’d been thinking about him, too, though it would have been fun to tell him that I was thinking about him and another boy.

“Maybe you need a hobby,” I suggested, widening my eyes. “Model airplanes? Skateboarding? How about music? You could take up the guitar.”

“You’re funny,” he muttered. “I need to get you out of my system.”

I knew in that moment that Saxon felt way more for me than he wanted to or than he was willing to admit. He didn’t like that he felt this way about me, so he was going to get rid of me. Well, he could screw off for all I cared. I wasn’t about to let him use me for entertainment then dump me when he was done.

“That sucks for you. I’m not available, and I’m not interested. So go bother someone else.” Even while I was saying those words to him, part of me wanted him to grab me and kiss me right there. He looked angry and hungry at the same time, and I didn’t want him to stop looking at me like that.

“Fine.” His voice was low again. “But I’m not an idiot, Brenna. This isn’t a one-sided thing. I know you feel something about me. We’re going to end up together eventually. If you’re too chicken to face it, that’s your thing.”

He stalked away like he owned the whole hallway, and I went to class so mad I could feel my face flaming. Who did he think he was? Obviously God’s gift to women. I had never met anyone so arrogant, so completely full of himself. I marched into English and plopped down in my seat. Mr. Dawes was already filling up the chalkboard with notes about Golding’s life and career. I took out my blue notebook and binder (everything for English was blue. I know; color coding is dork central), when Devon Conner turned around.

“You’re in Tech?” He blinked like there was something in his eye.

“Yes,” I hissed. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, this is honors English,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think Tech kids were allowed in honors classes.” He had a big nose. It crossed my mind that it would make an excellent target for my fist.

“Look, jerkoff, maybe you should turn around and take the freaking notes before they ship you off to Tech with all the other dirty lowlifes like me.”

“I was just asking a question,” Devon whined.

“A pretty damn stupid one,” I muttered.

“Is there a problem Mr. Conner? Ms. Blixen?” Mr. Dawes asked.

“No.” I gave him my most angelic face. “Devon can’t see the board. He was asking to copy my notes after class.”

Butter could have melted in my mouth, I was that good.

Mr. Dawes nodded. “Mr. Conner, front and center. Ms. Blixen isn’t your personal transcriber. If you need a seat adjustment, bring a note from your eye doctor,” he barked. I smirked when Mr. Dawes’s back was turned.

“Geez, I was just asking a question,” Devon sulked childishly.

Right.

The rest of the day went just as badly. In Government I had to sit right next to Saxon and work through the problems that were on our sheet. He didn’t lift a finger to help, which annoyed me.

“We’re supposed to be partners.” I scribbled on my paper with furious frustration when my ink went dry.

“Not all partnerships are equal.” He smiled meanly, plucked the pen out of my hand, wet the tip on his tongue, and handed it back to me. “Maybe we don’t have a symbiotic relationship.”

“So instead of you being the little bird eating meat out of my crocodile jaws, you’re the big, fat tapeworm killing me slowly?” I spat, ultra annoyed when the ink flowed smoothly on the paper.

“You took biology already?”

“My mom and I did a home school program in Denmark last year, and we liked the earth science part so much we did the biology right after we were done.” I kept my voice monotone on purpose.

“So you were a supergeek, working round the clock on science hypotheses?” He jiggled his leg and made my sentence scrawl sideways down the page. I glared at him.

“Actually, when you cut out the textbook bull and don’t have twenty-five other apes to deal with, a lesson that takes forty-five minutes in school can take a fraction of the time at home.” My voice grew louder against my will. “For example, a government sheet that would normally take me half an hour can take three times longer to do when I have an irritating partner asking me idiotic questions every few minutes.”

He snatched his paper off of the table, dug in his pocket for a pen, and nodded at me. “Ready?” he asked

“For what?”

“You did pages four to six. I’ll do seven to nine.” He raised his eyebrows, at me. “Ready?” repeated.

I couldn’t help but like the dark gleam in his eye, and if I said I didn’t like the way his muscles pushed through his Black Lips t-shirt, I’d be lying. I had to give myself a little slack if I couldn’t stop glancing at the tears in his gray work pants, where the dark, hairy skin of his legs showed through and looked so guyish and unlike my smooth, white legs.

“I’m ready when you are.” I held my pen up expectantly.

“Page seven, question 31. Write this: “The judicial system allows for state governments to decide for themselves whether elected officials should…” his voice droned on and on. He answered every question, not pausing, not looking through the book to double check. And I was willing to bet my life that his answers were absolutely right. It was especially sickening to realize that I was more than happy to listen to Saxon’s voice recite government facts all period long. What was wrong with me?

“Done.” He flipped his half filled-in worksheet on the table.

My hand cramped with pain. I shook it out. “Thanks,” I muttered.

“You did the rest of the work.” I knew he was trying to be fair.