Page 51 of Burning Embers

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Page 51 of Burning Embers

To say he’s been chiseled to perfection is not an understatement in the slightest. His face holds a perfect symmetry I don’t think I’ve ever seen before, not even in models. His hazel eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes that could be on the front page of any makeup magazine. Light-brown hair, artfully tousled in a way that appears both immaculate and messy, hangs in loose curls at the top of his head. He doesn’t wear glasses like Ethan does, but he’s dressed in a tight sweater, brown khakis, and polished loafers—the epitome of a nerd if I’ve ever seen one.

A sexy, mouth-watering nerd…

But then I realize he’s glaring at me with almost as much fury as Emery glared at Ethan.

“Are you just going to stand there ogling me, or are you going to take your seat?” he snaps. His voice is harsh and succulent, a bark of words that wheedles its way down my spine.

Instantly, my cheeks flush, even as indignation burns like hot coals in my stomach.

What the fuck is his problem?

Gritting my teeth together—and ignoring the chuckles of the classmates who overheard Ansel’s comment—I claim the seat beside him.

Ansel immediately inches away from me on his stool as if he believes I have cooties or some shit.

Good fucking grief. Is he trying to pretend he’s Edward Cullen sniffing my blood? I half expect him to inhale obnoxiously and then immediately clamp his hand over his nose to block out my scent.

But he doesn’t do that. He simply remains as far away from me as the table will allow and focuses intently on Mr. Holter as the teacher wastes no time diving into the next lesson.

I push all thoughts of Ansel to the back of my mind as I take careful notes on the lesson. Chemistry has never been mystrongest subject, but I’m hoping the chapters I missed will coincide with the ones I took in my old school. Fingers crossed, or I’ll be shit out of luck.

Mr. Holter dismisses us fifteen minutes before class ends to work on homework or chat quietly amongst ourselves. The grumpy teacher may be a hard-ass, but I’m beginning to believe he may just become my favorite teacher at this school.

I look over the reading assignments he gave me and begin to consider a course of action.

If I can read two chapters today and two tomorrow, then that will give me over a week to make sure I understand the material before the test?—

“If you think you can cheat off of me to get an A, you’ll be wrong.” Ansel’s curt voice shatters my concentration like the crack of a whip.

I straighten in confusion and turn to glance at him, only to see his head lowered over one of his assignments. It appears to be Chemistry…but not from our current chapter. Is he really five chaptersaheadof the class?

Then his words register, and I blink at him belatedly.

“Excuse me?”

His upper lip peels away from his teeth, and he quirks one perfect eyebrow, though he never looks up from his textbook. “I’m not going to allow you to hold my coattail in this class. If you want to pass, you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

What the fuck?

Anger bubbles in my stomach, white-hot and blistering, but Ansel continues on before I can get a word out.

“But you don’t have to worry about partner projects,” he continues in his slow, succulent voice. He finally pulls his attention off of his homework assignment to glare at me in disgust. “I’ll do it. The last thing I need is for you to fuck things up and ruin my GPA.”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him in disbelief, unable to believe the audacity of this guy. “Did you just call me stupid?”

“Did you hear that word leave my mouth?” He rolls his eyes as if I’m being ridiculous.

Fucking asshole.

Why do all the pretty ones have to be raging dicks?

“It was heavily implied,” I snap.

“Ahhh. So you’re capable of reading between the lines.” He taps his pencil against the edge of the lab table absently. “At least I know you won’t be failing your English class.”

What. The. Fuck?

My bloodstream sizzles. I suddenly want nothing more than to slam his stupid, perfect face against the table and make it not so perfect anymore. I wonder if he’ll still be the pretty boy with broken teeth and a nose gushing blood.




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