Page 5 of Lessons in Faking
“Because I am.”
“Sure.”
“Athalia—”
“What?” I didn’t mean to shout the word at him. His demeanor had been entirely too calm for that, and yet my head jerked up forcefully.
A short silence hung between us before Henry gave me an apologetic smile, rounding the kitchen island. Propping himself against it by my side, his hand ruffled my hair in that way he knew I hated, but I knew he loved. Even if it felt like one every time, it wasn’t a malicious gesture. Actually, it was probably the way Henry said,You know I love you, right?because he never said the words. I couldn’t even remember the last time he had.
“I’ll talk to Shaw,” he suggested, voice low. As if he knew even the smallest thing could set me off now.
“That’s probably the worst idea you’ve ever had, Henry,” I said calmly, mostly to compensate for my outburst seconds ago. “Shaw hates your guts almost as much as mine.”
“So what?” he asked. “He should know better than to put you and McCarthy in the same room. I’ll talk to him.”
I didn’t mention that Shaw probably had other things to worry about than a stupid rivalry between his top students.
“There’s no point.” Shaw wasn’t going to budge; McCarthy wasn’t going to quit. That was all that mattered.
Henry rose back to his impressive six foot one and circled the kitchen island again to throw the banana peel into the trash under the sink. “I’ll talk to him” was all he said.
“No, you won’t,” I retorted, suddenly fierce in my stance.
“Athalia,” he groaned.
“Henry.”
Exasperated, his hands flew up. Henry was so easy to aggravate, I almost understood why McCarthy seemed to love annoying him. At least this way, Henry was paying attention to me. “I just don’t want that asshat—”
“Asshat?” My smile did slip out now. “Veryoriginal.”
Henry waved me away half-heartedly. “Whatever. I just don’t want that guy anywhere near my little sister, that’s all.”
“I’m twelve minutes younger than you.” I shook my head slightly. “Which is why I don’t need you to baby me. In fact, I don’t need anyone to baby me. I’ll handle the situation with McCarthy like any adult would—by myself.”
He pointedly ignored the last statement. “And yet, you’re born a day after me. Twelve minutes or not, Athalia, you’re my baby sister. Period.”
“Henry—”
“Either way...” He shrugged like he hadn’t interrupted me, heading for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it,little sister.”
“Don’t you dare—” I was by his side again before I could even finish my sentence. “Iwill handle it.”
Unfazed, Henry opened the door, only hovering in the doorway long enough to give me an unbothered smile as a parting gift.
Little shit.
I took a deep breath, leveling my voice. “Dylan McCarthy will not get anywhere close to yourlittle sister.” I mocked. “At least not closer than the desk separating us at all times. Now, let me just deal with this by myself. Okay?”
“Sure,” Henry said as he left, but he didn’t mean it.
Chapter 3
“You’re sure this isn’t a costume party?” Wren’s voice traveled through the barely lit street, music blaring through the walls of the colonial-style home we stood in front of.
Shifting my attention from the Greek letters above the entrance, I grinned at her. “Positive. But if it was, you might still qualify.” The military boots, dark tights with a run in them that disappeared under a skirt, everything in her favorite color: black. It was giving witch—if witches went to frat parties.
“Fuck off.” Wren rolled her eyes, probably rethinking the entirety of our three-year-long friendship. I gave her one last look, and when her smile matched my own, I pushed the door open.
