Page 121 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“I knew who he was. I didn’t need all the details of what happened, but after the crash, I made sure you weresafe.”

He poured a spoonful of dough into the pan. Pancakes. Comfort food, he’d called them. “I punched him,” I said, watching the dough turn gold, “that’s why I got fired. He gave me a negative teacher evaluation and then asked me to meet him to go over my performance.”

“Delilah, you don’t have to tell me any of this. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know. I want you to know.” I nodded and kept my eyes on the pancake as Beck flipped it. “Roger made it quite clear how my performance could improve and how he could be swayed to re-evaluate my skills. I punched him. Obviously, I couldn’t prove that he shoved me into a corner and pushed his hand up my skirt. He, on the other hand, had security footage that showed me walking into his office, and the broken nose to prove I’d gotten violent over my negative performance review.”

“You broke his nose with one hit?”

“Yep.” I furrowed my brows and looked up from the pan. That wasn’t even close to any of the other questions I’d gotten about that day. When I told people what happened, if they believed me, they tried to push the victim role on me.Poor little Delilah, how do you feel, are you hurt, do you want to talk?Yeah, it had fucking sucked, and I’d needed to work through it, but the crunch of Roger’s nose under my fist? His shocked face as he tried to stop the bleeding? God, that had been the most satisfying moment of my life.

“I’m impressed.” He chuckled. “Maybe I should upgrade your status at Vortex from student to teacher.”

“Beck, about the other day at Vortex.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No, I’m glad you did.” He looked confused. “I needed to know that you’re not the magical key to my lock.”

“I never was.”

“Actually, do you still have the- nevermind. I’ll get one. Sorry.” What was I thinking? We were not back there. God. My tongue had moved faster than rational thought.

He eyed me, and switched the flame off, pancake still a bit wobbly. “You want the vibrator?”

“It’s a really good one. And it’s really expensive. I looked it up. Why would you pay that much for a vibrator?”

“Because it’s a really good one.” Beck smirked. “Come on. I actually have a couple of your things.”

I followed him through the living room and upstairs, only to stop in the doorway of the room he led me into. “You keep a used vibrator in your office?”

My eyes raked over the familiar bookshelves and his desk, and narrowed at the wide leather sofa pushed against one wall, decked with throw pillows and a soft blanket. “It’s a library, not an office. It’s supposed to invite people to stay and read.” He gestured at the sofa, shooting me that damn signature Beckett grin, with the mischief hiding in its corners. My traitorous stomach did a silly flip at the sight of it, combined with the fact that he had created alibrary,but I stayed glued to the doorframe. “And yes, I do. Here.” He pulled a large gray box from the shelf and placed it on his desk.

Okay, fine.A few steps into the room wouldn’t make me do anything stupid. I was in full control of my actions here.

I kept the desk between us and pulled the box over to me. Something inside clattered and I drew my brows up as I flipped the lid off. Alongside the small blue box I’d become familiar with, lay a pink Taylor Swift shirt, a plaid pajama top, a certain leatherbound notebook, a handful of page flags and pens, and a Ziploc bag with around a dozen sea shells.

“I won’t lie. Bernard didn’t survive the move, but he died an honorable death.”

I raised the Ziploc bag against the light. “Bernard is right there. With the yellow speck. Oh. Ooh. Dorothy is gone.”

“Have dinner with me, Blondie.”

“No, thank you.” My stomach did another flip, and I forced myself to keep breathing, keep my eyes on my hands as I carefully nestled the sea shells between the clothes. I’d gotten the answers I’d wanted. I didn’t have to spend even one more second thinking about Beck from here on out. I could be civil on school grounds, and for Brody’s sake, but he was otherwise banned from my mind. “I’m busy.”

“I didn’t say when.”

I put the lid back on the box and carried it out the door without looking back. “I’ll be busy then, too.”

FIFTY

Cordelia had stucktrue to her word and gave me the house every first weekend of the month, staying with Victor, so I could have people over. I had spent all evening on Tinder, swiping left on douchy tagline after douchy tagline.

Defne and Tabitha had helped me set up a profile that boiled down to ‘want to get laid without getting murdered please’ before both of them had left me to my own devices - Tabitha to get laid herself, Defne to go to family dinner.

I swiped right on a handful of profiles. However, by my second glass of wine and yet another ‘unmatch’ after the most uninspiring three lines of conversation, I understood that someone could look like they fucked (thanks Tabitha) but their spelling made it virtually impossible to even think about fucking them. I really wanted to fuck them, too. Just to test the waters. Test some of my newfound knowledge. But how could my loins catch on fire if this guy didn’t even know the difference betweentheirandthey’re?

I grabbed the half empty wine bottle from the counter and took it upstairs with me, where I tossed my phone onto the sheets before pulling a certain blue box out from under the bed. This was how far I’d sunk- sunken- sinked- oh god, maybe I shouldn’t be judging anyone on their spelling when the wine messed with my head like this. Further proof of my far-sunken-ness.

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