Page 31 of The Jack*ss in Class

I looked down at my fuzzy pink slippers. “What’s wrong with my slippers?”

“Everything,” all three of them said in unison.

Parker grabbed a taco. “You have been extra stressed lately.”

Because my agent wouldn’t stop hounding me about meetings in L.A., my deadline was looming, and Flynn Kingman had started looking at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. But I could only tell Parker about two of those things.

“It’s just senior year stuff.” I held out my hand for a taco from the bag, hoping food would stop the interrogation. “And being on call is important. You know how many creeps show up at hockey parties. We shall leave no sister behind...or intoxicated and alone.”

“Which is exactly why you should come.” Hannah started rummaging through my closet. “Safety in numbers.”

“I have reading to do.”

“You always have reading to do.” Alice tried to steal a bite of my taco, but I quickly shoved the rest in my mouth. “But lately you’ve been practically hermitted away. Is this about Flynn?”

I choked on my extra big bite. “Whrr?”

It took me a minute to finish chewing and swallow. “No. Why would you?—”

“Because he’s been looking at you like you’re his next meal,” Hannah said from inside my closet. “And you’ve been looking back.”

“I have not.”

Parker snorted. “You totally have.”

Traitor.

“I just...” I glanced over to where the notebook hidden under my Shakespeare texts poked out. “I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

“Distractions are exactly what you need.” Hannah emerged with a pair of heels Catalina had given me, some jeans that I thought were a bit too tight, and a flowy white shirt that I didn’t know why I even bought. “You’re wound tighter than Mrs. Henderson’s bun. When’s the last time you had fun?”

“I have fun.”

“Watching movies about talking farm animals doesn’t count.” Alice grabbed my slippers and tossed them under the bed. “Come on, T. One night. If it sucks, you can come home and watch all the pig movies you want.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Hannah threw the jeans at me. “Get dressed. You’re going to have a drink, dance with your sisters, and maybe flirt with a hot football player who clearly has a thing for you.”

“Flynn doesn’t have a thing for me.”

Three skeptical faces stared back.

“He doesn’t,” I insisted. “We just study together.”

To be honest, no guys ever had a thing for me. Flynn was just a big flirt. It didn’t mean he was actually into me.

“Right.” Alice rolled her eyes. “Because Flynn Kingman, who could probably quote the entire works of Shakespeare in his sleep, needs a study partner.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. There was no use arguing with them. Let them think what they wanted to.

“Fine.” I grabbed the clothes. “One hour. But only because I don’t trust any of you to play a proper game of beer pong.” All those long summers at Abuela’s with the neighbor kids had given me a lot of weird gaming skills.

Parker bounced off the bed. “That’s my girl. Now, since Flynn’s going to be there...”

“This isn’t about Flynn.”

But as my sisters descended on me with hair styling torture devices and makeup that would make Abuelita proud, like a pack of well-meaning wolves, I thought of the way he’d looked at me in class today. Like he could see right through me.

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