Page 114 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Thanks, but I changed careers a long time ago, Beckett.”

FORTY-SEVEN

“Ohmygod,”Brody gasped and slapped a stack of paper down on my desk. “I can’t believe they didn’t kiss. They were so close. So close.” She held up her thumb and index finger, tightly pressed together.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” I laughed.

I’d meant to throw myself into my new job. I’d meant to pretend the entire summer hadn’t happened, no matter how much my chest ached every morning. I’d meant to forget all about the haunting image of Beck’s darkened eyes and split lip when he’d knelt and pleaded for just a minute of my time. I was going to spend my days at school and my nights with Defne, Tabitha and Cordelia, who had worked out a Del-sitting schedule all by themselves to keep me busy. - And then Brody had popped into my classroom the third day of her sophomore year, and asked to stay there during lunch break because she couldn’t stomach another question about her father.

Somehow the one distraction that managed to keep my mind off August Beckett, turned out to be the same distraction Brody Beckett had needed. At the end of the day, nothing compared to a little escapism.

“Can they please just kiss in the next chapter? Please? Cerulean deserves some nice things in his life.”

“And ruin all the tension?”

“What good is tension if there’s no pay-off?” she scoffed.

“Have you ever heard the term delayed gratification?”

“I have, and I’m not a fan. I’m sorry, do you know me at all? Instant gratification or bust, Del.” She slapped the stack of paper. “Make them kiss.”

“Brody,” I rolled my eyes at her, “you know it’s Ms. Edwards now. And I will consider your feedback.”

“Also, I think you made a mistake with the memory spell. I page-flagged it.”

“Thank you.”

“I gotta go. I’m going to make Penny Crawford wish she hadn’t gotten out of bed this morning.” Brody slammed her fist into her palm and jumped backwards out of my classroom, braids whipping in all directions.

“Good luck,” I called after her and slipped chapter six into my bag before switching the lights off for the day.

I just stepped out of my classroom, when Brody came to a screeching halt in front of me, almost crashing into me. “Shitballs, sorry, fuck, shit.”

“No problem,” I laughed at the cacophony of profanities.

“I think I dropped my phone in there. Can I?”

“Sure,” I stepped aside to let her in, and when I looked up, Beck was standing a few feet away. I sucked in a breath. He didn’t move. Despite Brody having been part of my life again for over a month, I hadn’t seen him.

One blink. Two blinks.The seconds stretched between us like hours. None of my perfectly suppressed memories did justice to him, to those sharp features or the heat in his gray eyes.

“Got it.” Brody zapped past me with all that bundled-up energy only to do a 180-jump and face me again. “Hey, you wanna come?”

I shook my head, mostly to shake off the weight of Beck’s gaze. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

“You could consider it research for the fight between Cerulean and Firth, because that was lacking some oomph. Come on.” She grinned and bobbed on her heels.

“Brody, lay off. She’s not coming,” Beck said in a stern voice and turned to leave.

Defiance prickled in the pit of my stomach. After having been a pawn in his hands, I didn’t want him to have the final word over any of my decisions. “Actually, I am. Brody’s right. I need some oomph.”

I regretted the words as soon as I’d said them, but now I had to go on principle. At least Brody made for a good buffer, talking like a waterfall for the entire ride to the gym. When she disappeared into the changing rooms, I made sure to stand three feet away from Beck, arms crossed with my hands tucked in to avoid any and all accidental contact.

Not that it mattered.

I felt him.

I may have tried to concentrate on the young women punching each other in the ring, but my every thought was occupied by how hyperaware I was of his presence. Every hair on my body angled towards him. My skin prickled whenever he moved so much as an inch. It was as if Beck was the North Pole, and my body was the needle on a compass. But worst of all, with every reaction he drew from my body, my chest ached under the weight of every lie he’d told me to hone me into this pathetic, delicate needle that had no mind of its own and would always spin for the North Pole.

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