Page 36 of Billionaires Don't Date Cheerleaders
Jude plucked the schedule out of my hand. I was holding it so tightly that the side of the page tore as he pulled it away, but he didn’t seem to care at all.
“Hey!” I said. I tried to grab it back, but he held it further away.
“It’s not nice to ignore people when they’re talking to you,” he said.
“Yeah, well, it’s not nice to bother someone who’s trying to help you,” I said. I reached for the schedule again, but Jude just stuffed it in his bag. I looked at him, unimpressed. “If that becomes unreadable because you ruined it, don’t expect me to help.”
He blinked innocently. “But you’re my guide. You have to help me.”
I put my hands on my hips and pressed my lips together as I stared at him for a long few beats.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Believe it or not, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”
I sighed and looked around again. “Okay, I have no idea where your next class is.”
“I guess that means we just have to skip,” he said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged at me. “So, where should we go? Starbucks? McDonalds?”
“We can’t just skip class, Jude.”
“Why not?”
“Because… we just can’t!” I wasn’t the best student, but I also didn’t have a death wish. I knew that if my parents got a call from my school saying that I had skipped a class, I was done for. I pressed my palm to my forehead as I looked around. I was sure we had passed every classroom on the first floor, but we hadn’t passed his. I could scream.
“Hey,” Jude said. His voice was deeper than before and completely devoid of the humor that had been in it before. “It’s okay. I can just go to the office and ask them to help me find the place. Get to your own class.”
“No,” I said. “No, it’s fine, I’m your guide. I just don’t know this part of the school that well.”
“How long do we have until the bell?”
I pulled the sleeve of my blazer up to check my watch. “Like two minutes.” I looked around again. Why hadn’t I insisted on us leaving the cafeteria earlier? I guess, for some reason, I’d been under the impression that finding a room I’d never been to before would be an easy task. My heart pounded faster with every second as I looked around. I chewed down hard on my lip. I couldn’t just leave him here, but I also couldn’t be late for my class.
“Hey. Hey.” I jumped as Jude ran a hand along my arm. How long had he been trying to get my attention? “It’s okay. Let’s think this through logically, okay?”
His voice was soft and relaxing. I felt like it should have been annoying—like he was talking down to me or something—but it was actually helping me to stay calm. I sucked in a deep breath and nodded.
“What class do you have next?” He asked.
“Gym,” I said. Crap, I really hadn’t thought this through—I still had to get to my locker to grab my gym clothes and then make it downstairs, all in the next minute and a half. I wouldn’t be able to make it. Not without completely ditching Jude, which I had a feeling was frowned upon in the whole school buddy program. Sure, after a week here, he could probably find his way to the office to ask for help, but he shouldn’t have to. And what if I got in trouble for not being a good enough guide or something? Gosh, I was totally screwed either way—I couldn’t be in two places at once, but that was the only way for this to work.
“Sloane…” Jude’s voice sounded far away, almost like I was underwater. “Sloane. Hey, look at me.”
I forced myself to turn my head even as my breaths became shallower and shallower.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll just… we’ll go to the nurse’s office. We’ll get her to right a note, okay?”
I pressed the heels of my palms to my house. My head was starting to spin a little. I just wanted to sit down. “They won’t just give me a note for no reason.”
“I’m pretty sure you worrying this much will count,” he said. He pulled my hands away from my face and looked down at me in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. I looked around the hallway again as if the classroom might have appeared out of nowhere since the last time I looked. I groaned. “What are we going to do?”
“The nurse?—”
“I would need an actual injury, Jude.”
“Fine.” Before I could comprehend what he was doing, he kicked his leg forward, hitting me straight in the ankle. It was a pretty hard kick—harder than necessary, I would argue—and pain shot up my leg.
