Brooks

It’s Friday night, and I am helping my parents at the food truck. We’re parked near the nightclub again, but this time, Benji is spending the night at our grandparents’ house, much to my relief.

Although it’s midnight and we’re super busy with the many drunk customers eager for a burger, I can’t stop thinking about what happened at school earlier today. The idea of tutoring Timothée Evans has been taunting me nonstop, mainly because the quarterback proved he’s a complete jerk in a matter of minutes.

After my brief meeting with Principal Rivera and the Evanses, I didn’t get to ditch the rest of the classes as intended, but I did avoid answering Macs’s insistent questions. Needless to say, she was eager to know what kind of trouble I’d gotten myself into that ended with a visit to the principal’s office. I told her he asked me to tutor a student, but I didn’t specify whom or why.

Thankfully, just as she was grilling me, the Evans twins walked by, and she immediately turned her attention to them, completely forgetting about me. Timothée didn’t look at me once, but I didn’t give a shit. In fact, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t told any of his friends about our tutoring sessions, which, by the way, are starting on Monday after classes.

I can feel my stomach fluttering at the thought of spending time with him twice a week. I don’t know how long I’ll be tutoring the quarterback, but supposedly, the boy barely knows how to count from one to ten, so I’m guessing our sessions will be happening for months.

“Hi.” A male voice rings from the other side of the cashier's window.

I immediately turn to face whoever it is, my fake grin already plastered across my face—Dad always gives me a hard time for not smiling enough when dealing with customers.

“Hi, how can I help you?” I don’t lift my eyes from the notepad in my hands.

Instead of making an order, the person asks, “Do you work here every night?”

I glance up for the first time, and to my complete surprise and horror, it’s none other than Dimitris Evans, Timothée’s twin brother.

His green eyes pierce right through me, and just like that, my face floods crimson, turning me into a giant tampon.

“Are you all right?” The handsome jock looks amused as he watches me combust under the weight of his charm.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, fanning my face with both hands. “What did you ask me again?” I try to get a grip and behave like a semi-professional human being.

“Do you work here every night?” he repeats, still looking directly at me.

“Not every night.” I shrug, my eyes dropping to my sneakers. “My parents choose the selling spot, and I just help them out when I can.”

“I see.” He smiles, awakening butterflies in my stomach. “What’s your name?”

“Brooklyn,” I reply, frowning, silently wondering why someone like Dimitris Evans would care to know my name. I mean, I’m supposed to be the school’s invisible virgin nerd. Well, technically, I’m not a nerd, and definitely not a virgin. Ryan can vouch for that, considering he’s the one who led me down the naughty path six months ago. But who needs to know that?

“Do you go to Oak Hills High? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you around,” Dimitris continues, frowning slightly as he scans my face.

I gape at him, stunned. There’s no way one of the most popular guys in school remembers someone like me—especially one of the Evans twins.

“You do go to Oak Hills, right?” he presses.

I nod, too shocked to speak. Forming a coherent sentence right now feels like an impossible mission.

“Why do you look so shocked?” He laughs heartily, somehow managing to look even more attractive doing it.

“Anyway, what would you like to order?” I ask, trying to recompose myself after my mom discreetly elbows me in the ribs.

“A cheeseburger, fries, and a lemon-lime pop,” he responds, still watching me with those ridiculously green eyes.

“That’ll be twelve dollars,” I mutter, avoiding his gaze before my peanut brain short-circuits.

“You know, you should charge more for your burger and fries because they’re too damn good.” Dimitris smiles while handing over two ten-dollar bills. “Even my brother likes them,” he adds casually.

My heart skips a beat.

Timothée liked it?

I glance down, trying to calculate his change, but somehow, I’ve forgotten how to count.

“Keep the change, Brooklyn,” Dimitris interrupts, reaching his hand through the small opening of the window, halting my trembling fingers mid-motion.

Finally, gathering enough courage, I meet his eyes. But before I can say anything, a loud commotion behind him snaps my attention away. Surely enough, Timothée, Zoe, a couple of stunning girls, and some other friends are approaching Dimitris...and me.

“What are you doing here, Dimmy? Why did you leave the nightclub without letting us know?” Zoe frowns at Dimitris while holding Timothée’s hand.

The quarterback’s piercing blue eyes lock on mine in a split second, making me gasp and blush crimson again. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t blink, doesn’t say a word. But I swear I see a flicker of recognition pass across his impossibly handsome face.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your public make-out session with my brother.” Dimitris chuckles. “Besides, I’m starving, and I couldn’t stop thinking about these burgers since I saw the food truck again.”

As Zoe finally looks at me, I am struck by how stunning she is. Her long, blonde hair is perfectly curly, probably thanks to a stylist, or an industrial-grade curling iron. Her blue eyes resemble Timothée’s, though not as mysterious or deep—still, they’re breathtaking. She’s dressed like she stepped out of a fashion magazine, and her high heels—Jesus—make her almost as tall as the twins, who I’m guessing are somewhere north of six feet. I probably look like a squashed bug standing next to them—flat, short, and hard on the eyes. No, bugs don’t deserve that comparison, poor things.

“Do you guys want something to eat?” Dimitris turns to his friends and his brother.

“Nah,” Timothée responds without looking at me, slipping an arm around Zoe’s waist.

The cheerleader meets his gaze and, within seconds, they’re kissing hard, as if they’re alone and ready to rip each other’s clothes off right here. The rest of their friends start cheering, shouting they should “get a bedroom,” but the couple doesn’t seem to care, as they keep kissing, oblivious to the teasing around them.

The kiss is so intense that, unexpectedly, an image of Timothée kissing me instead of Zoe flashes through my mind, sending shivers down my spine.

“I’m sorry about that, Brooklyn,” Dimitris says, clearly embarrassed by his brother’s stunt.

I shake my head, trying to erase Timothée’s image from my brain, and offer Dimitris a small smile. Thankfully, my dad hands me his order, which I pass to him through the small gap in the window separating us.

As a reward, the cool twin widens his smile at the sight of his food. “Thanks, Brooklyn. I’ll see you at school.” He winks and walks away, but not before punching Timothée on the shoulder and forcing him to break his kiss with Zoe, who grunts in protest before following the twins.

As Timothée leaves the food truck, he doesn’t glance my way, and for some inexplicable reason, I feel a weird sense of disappointment settle in my chest—one that freaks the hell out of me.

* * *

It’s Monday, and the classes have just finished. As I head to the library, my heart starts pounding in my chest, making me realize that I’m not ready at all to deal with the idiotic popular twin and burn under his smoldering gaze. To distract myself and keep my anxiety in check, I think about the relaxing weekend I had.

I spent the last two days at my maternal grandparents’ house while Mom and Dad were too busy selling burgers—I tried to help them, but they wouldn’t let me, insisting I needed to rest and take some time for myself. Macs and Ryan invited me to the movies on Saturday night, but I chose to spend my golden free hours hanging out with Benji, Grandma Hil, and Grandpa Joe. Surprisingly, I had a lot of fun watching movies with them, even though the scene with Timothée and Zoe’s lips kept replaying in my head over and over again.

“Hello, Mrs. Young,” I greet the fifty-year-old librarian as I arrive at Oak Hills Library, where I’m supposed to meet Timothée for our tutoring session.

“Miss Bumps, someone left you an envelope and a note,” she informs me, handing over a white envelope and a small note.

“Whose are these from?” I ask, accepting the papers.

“Timothée Evans,” she replies immediately, shooting me a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t aware you two were friends.”

“We aren’t,” I retort before reading the note aloud. “I’m giving you five hundred dollars so you can keep your mouth shut and pretend we’re having those useless tutoring sessions.” I glance around the spacious room, pausing my gaze on the tables scattered in the back. There’s no sign of the quarterback, which explains the note he left with Mrs. Young.

“Are you tutoring Timothée?” Mrs. Young sounds amazed as I crumple the note in my hand.

“At what time did Timothée give you the note and envelope?” I toss the crumpled paper into the trash, opening the envelope afterward. Well, I’m certainly not surprised to find five hundred dollars inside.

“Not long ago.” Mrs. Young shrugs. “He came here with his girlfriend.”

Before I can process what I’m doing, I’m spinning on my heels and stomping toward the bleachers at the field, as I know that’s where the stupid jocks and cheerleaders hang out, even though there’s no practice today. By the way, I don’t get it. Why would they rather stay at school than go home and enjoy their cushy lives? I suppose it’s just part of their routine, like they don’t know how to exist outside of their perfect bubble.

Five minutes later, I’m finally standing face-to-face with the Evans twins, Zoe, and a few other cheerleaders and jocks. They all gape at me in return, probably wondering what the hell the invisible virgin nerd is doing here with them.

“Yo, Evans,” I call out, glaring daggers at Timothée, whose eyes widen at the sight of my furious face and the grave tone in my voice. “Are you kidding me?” I stop just inches away from him.

“Aren’t you the virgin nerd?” one of the jocks snickers, causing everyone to burst into laughter. Well, everyone except Dimitris, who’s watching me warily.

“I don’t want your money,” I bark, throwing the envelope in Timothée’s beautiful face. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“What were you paying her for?” Zoe asks, puzzled, glancing between Timothée and me.

Timothée stares at me in silence for a moment before finally opening his mouth, letting the garbage spill out. “Well, I wanted to deflower the unreachable virgin nerd, and she agreed to let me do it if I paid for her innocence,” he jeers, his eyes boring into mine.

Needless to say, I see red. At this point, I couldn’t care less that I’m standing among the popular crowd, and offending the school’s star. All I know is that I’ve never been more humiliated in my life, thanks to him.

“I’d rather die a virgin and starve to death than let you touch me, idiot,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “We’re done,” I declare before storming off, ignoring the ‘oooh’ coming from Timothée’s friends, probably mocking both of us.

My face burns with rage and humiliation, and unwanted tears spring to my eyes, betraying how vulnerable and alone I feel right now.

“So much for a great senior year and extra money,” I whisper bitterly, letting the tears stream down my cheeks freely.