Page 89 of In the Net
When Jamie walks off the stage, Dr. Harver gets back on the mic. “Last, but certainly not least, here’s a player with brains as well as brawn. Sebastian Lawrence!”
Sebastian’s expression is full of amusement as he saunters to the center of the stage. Then his eyes find me, and his face twists in confusion.
What are you doing here?I see him mouth.
I only respond with a steely, determined gaze that should leave no question.
He presses his lips together to keep from laughing.Jealous, he mouths again.
I hold back as the bidding quickly rises. I get fed up, though, as Dr. Harver is content to keep going up in tiny increments, drawing this thing out for the drama. Everyone seems to be having fun, and I don’t want to rain cold water all over them, but seeing all these girls fighting over my man has me bristling.
I mean, seeing all these girls fighting over my fake boyfriend has me bristling.
“Twenty hours,” I call out, cutting to the chase.
Sebastian’s eyebrows bounce, amusement glittering behind his glasses.
Dr. Harver smiles. “Well, it appears we have a big-ticket item on our hands. Do we have twenty-five?”
Another girl immediately takes the bid. I slice my gaze to her. Wavey brunette hair. Long lashes. Lips to die for.
She is not winning a date with Sebastian.
“Thirty,” I say. My chest feels tight as soon as the number comes out of my mouth. I don’t have that much time to spare with how demanding my courses are this semester. But losing isn’t an option.
“Thirty-one,” another girl pounces.
“Thirty-two,” another counters
“Thirty-three,” I declare.
“We’re in record territory,” Dr. Harver says, clearly pleased. “Do we have thirty-four?”
“Thirty-four,” the girl with the perfect lips bids.
My stomach tightens into a hard ball. If she wants this date so bad, I don’t think she’s going to be content with a group dinner. From where I’m sitting, I can see the look in her eyes as she gazes up at Sebastian, and I can tell it’shimshe’s hungry for.
“Thirty-five,” I say.
“Thirty-eight,” she ups the ante.
I set my jaw hard. “Forty.”
A hush descends on the room. My back muscles are rigid as I wait to hear another number called out by a girl who wants to steal my rightful date with my fake boyfriend.
But the next voice I hear is Dr. Harver after a long pause.
“Sebastian Lawrence is claimed, for forty hours of tutoring!”
Impressed applause sounds across the room. Sebastian beams a conceited grin at me from the stage. He wiggles his brows and mouths one more time,Jealous.
Why even try to deny it?
37
HARPER
This week, I’ve managed to make a tiny dent in the debt I have with the tutoring center. The several hours I’ve spent helping students outline and polish essays have encouraged reflection—on just how down bad I am for my fake boyfriend.
