Page 11 of The Jack*ss in Class

Tempest tipped her head to the side like she was about to look back at me, but then changed her mind. It wasenough for me to see her press her lips together, fighting a smile.

“The one behind Miss Navarro.” Dr. Whitmore’s tone could have frozen hell. “Since he seems so interested in Beatrice and Benedick’s antagonistic courtship.”

“Oh, you mean the way they use wit as a defense mechanism?” I didn’t look up from where I was doodling on my notebook. “Creating verbal barriers to avoid emotional vulnerability while simultaneously proving themselves intellectual equals? That antagonistic courtship?”

Silence.

Complete silence.

Tempest turned around slowly, her dark eyes wide behind her glasses.

“I...” Dr. Whitmore blinked. “Well, yes, actually. That’s quite?—”

“Though personally,” Gryff cut in, because we’d been tag-teaming class discussions since kindergarten, “I think it’s more about their fear of being publicly vulnerable. They’re both performers, living up to everyone’s expectations of their roles.”

Okay, that was a little pointed. Asshat.

“Like the way Benedick has to maintain his reputation as a confirmed bachelor,” I added, glaring at the back of Gryff’s head.

“While Beatrice gets to be the clever one who’s above it all.” Gryff nodded at Tempest, who was still staring at me like we’d all started speaking in tongues.

“Until they realize,” Gryff cut in before I could getanother word in edgewise, “that those roles are actually trapping them.”

Dr. Whitmore opened and closed his mouth several times. Like some kind of British codfish.

“Though the public performance aspect is really driven home in the party scene,” I continued, mostly because Tempest hadn’t looked away yet and her shocked expression was doing funny things to my chest. I mean, well below my chest. Like in my pants. My heart had nothing to do with this. “Everyone wearing literal masks while acting out metaphorical ones?”

“Mr. Kingman.” Dr. Whitmore had found his voice. “That’s... quite an interpretation.”

“Which Mr. Kingman?” Gryff asked.

I bit back a grin as our professor visibly reconsidered his life choices.

Tempest was still watching me, her expression somewhere between irritated and intrigued. I winked at her, and instead of the cute kind of blush I was used to getting for my attention, she huffed out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and turned back around.

Gryff grinned at me like the dickhead that he was.

I threw my pen at his head.

“Right then. For the rest of you who aren’t such a fan of the bard, let’s get into the text. Please open up to act two, scene two, and discuss how the ruse...”

I leaned forward as Dr. Whitmore began to drone as English professors were want to do. Tempest was apparently also tuning out, because she’d sneakily turned her Kindle back on. Oh, ho. Not only was this book a romance novel, it was a really fucking dirty one.

Wasn’tthat a fun tidbit of information for me to file away?

She moved her finger to flip the virtual page, but her hand froze when I leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Wait a second. I’m not done with that page yet.”

That Kindle got flipped over faster than the speed of light. Tempest didn’t even turn around to glare at me this time.

Hmm... time to cool my jets. Aside from having some fun poking at her and the good doctor for thinking I wouldn’t have done the reading, I wasn’t interested in her. Or her curves.

I glanced down and absolutely did not spend the rest of the class fixated on the way her ass didn’t quite fit on these stupid tiny desks. These things weren’t made for big football players, or lush asses like hers.

Our hour and fifteen minutes of Shakespeare finally came to an end, and I stood up stretching. My phone buzzed just as Tempest was doing her best speed-walking escape from class.

“Congratulations,” Gryff read from his screen. “You’ve been matched with your academic success partner for the semester?—”

“Carajo.” Tempest stopped dead in the doorway, staring at her own phone.

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