Love Lessons Read online

  “Can we maybe focus on figuring out a way to get back to France as soon as possible?” It’s barely been a day and I miss it so much I want to cry. But if my sister didn’t cry when she was in England, then I will not cry.

  “Of course, ma chère,” says Rosalie with a shrug. “They’re probably monolingual dunces anyway.”

  Maria nods in agreement, but her eyes follow the boys back to their table.

  They sit next to a third boy, this one much, much cuter than the other two, and I inhale sharply, my reasoning behind not getting boyfriends disappears with a flash of his wide smile and crinkled blue eyes. His blond hair flops over his eyes and he pushes it back with a long, slender hand. I shake my head and tear my eyes away. It doesn’t matter how much I’d like to keep staring at him, he’s a distraction from my goal. I am here to learn English as fast as possible then head right back to Paris where I belong.

  I can’t help a final peek at him, however, and try to convince myself he’s not worth it. As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks up, and our eyes meet. A single beat of my heart is all it takes for his eyes to go completely cold.

  I look away, and my cheeks heat in response to the look in his eyes. It was so intense, almost like he was angry. But there’s no way I could have done anything to upset him. I’ve barely been here a day, how could someone already hate me?

  I think back to the girl in line I somehow insulted with my criticism of the all-important American donut. Who else had heard me?

  I take a deep breath and shake my hair back and hold my head up high. It doesn’t matter if people make rude comments and stare at me. I’m here for one reason only, and it doesn’t involve thinking about boys or talking to them or doing anything else with them. Avoiding this grumpy yet gorgeous guy should be easy enough.

  Chapter Three

  Rex

  There’s a spot in the back of the library where it’s quiet, but not too quiet. I can see people walking by, but not so many that I get distracted. It’s close to the heater in winter and right near a window I can crack open for a breeze in warm weather. The chair is comfortable without totally sucking me in and at the perfect height next to a table.

  Basically, it’s the perfect writing spot.

  And today, someone is sitting in it.

  Not just any someone, but one of the girls from lunch that Bronx and Reggie couldn’t stop drooling over. The most angelic of the lot, with hair in soft waves like Sahara sand and wide eyes that seem to stare right into my soul. I itch to write down more of these words that keep coming to me to describe her, but I can’t if she’s in my spot. I ignore the churning that her downturned face is causing my stomach and concentrate on my rising annoyance.

  I have writing to do, and I can’t even tell her to move or I’d be breaking my own rule less than six hours after I set it.

  While I’m standing there, half hidden behind a bookshelf, Don Armado comes up behind me with a grin on his face just begging to be smacked off. He’s changed into a new sweater. It’s not surprising he has multiple ones with the Shelfbrooke logo. Personally, I hate wearing the uniform a second longer than I have to, but over the next few months it will be handy to avoid spending any extra time thinking about clothes.

  I still wouldn’t be caught dead in a school sweater though.

  “Hey, I heard about the ban you inflicted on you and your guys,” says Don.

  “How?” I frown. I hadn’t included a confidentiality clause but figured it would have taken at least a few days for anyone to notice Bronx not being his typical girl-crazy self.

  “Knight Watch,” he says with a shrug. I hold back a groan. I hate that thing. It’s caused more trouble for Bronx and Reggie in the past four years than for me, but I still stopped using it months ago. I don’t need to peddle gossip about others when I have real drama to write.

  “And you’d like to join us?” I ask Don.

  He lets out a short laugh, that draws a stare from the librarian. Not that she’ll say anything.

  “Yeah, right. You guys are gonna have it rough. But that leaves more for the rest of us.”

  His eyes turn toward the girl in my spot, and I fight the urge to shove him away. His father is on the Navarre Committee. While I like to think this competition is above things like that, I’ve been at Shelfbrooke long enough to know that’s how it works. Someone wouldn’t win as a favor between parents, but someone sure could lose.

  “I thought you were with Jackie Netta?” Probably the easiest girl in our grade, and one I’m sure I’ve seen Don hanging around more than once.

  “No way, that was Costard, not me. She’s total trash.”

  I raise an incredulous eyebrow. He doth protest too much, methinks.

  He shakes his head. “I like the looks of this one better, anyway.”

  I scowl and take a step toward him. I don’t even realize I did that until he takes a step back.

  “Uh-oh, someone jealous?” says Don with a wicked grin. He glances over at the girl. “Tough luck. No talking to girls outside of class, right?”

  Ugh, how much did someone post on Knight Watch? It’s not that I don’t want people to know, but I’d rather be a bit more in control of how the word spread.

  “This doesn’t count,” I say, but I don’t move. I refuse to be the first to break the rules. Now that it’s out there on Knight Watch, everyone will be paying attention to us. Which is good, I tell myself. Bronx and Reggie could use the extra accountability. “I need to write.”

  At this, he nods. After I had that short story published last summer, everyone’s view of me had seemed to shift, and I became “Rex the writer.” But now it feels like the pressure is on to not just follow in my father’s footsteps but surpass him. And the one sure-fire way to do that is to win the Navarre Prize.

  “I’ll go tell her to move, if you want,” he says, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously. “I heard she’s French. Ooo la la.”

  His interest is irritating me more than I expected. I look at her sad face, and how alone she looks. It stirs something in my chest that I very much do not want stirred right now.

  “You should probably stay away from her.” I straighten my back, standing tall a few critical inches over Don.

  He chuckles. “Are you gonna stop me? I bet you can’t even make it a week without talking to her.”

  “You know I keep my word.”

  “Five hundred says you can’t.”

  It’s not the money, but the principle that makes me say, “I can’t wait to spend your money in three months.”

  A quick shake of our hands seals the deal.

  He grins. “Well, you’re off the market. She’s fair game.”

  My irritation with him is growing by the second. He’s going to bet money then flaunt it in my face? I feel drawn to her in a way I’ve never felt before, but no one is making me break my vow and lose a bet, not even a golden-haired supernatural sprite. But if I can’t talk to her, I don’t want anyone else to either. “It’ll mean trouble for you.”

  “I like trouble,” says Don. He takes a step forward, and I hold out an arm to stop him.

  “Do it and I’ll post on Knight Watch that I saw you with Jackie in the gardens before winter break.”

  He pales, confirming what, until now, had just been a suspicion. He glances over eagerly but doesn’t move, respecting my proclamation.

  “Get the word out,” I say as inspiration strikes. I can’t afford this distraction right now. But if I can’t talk to this beauty, then no one can. “Everyone leaves the blonde French girl alone.”

  “What am I supposed to say? Because King Rex declared it?”

  I shrug. “Say whatever you want. But if I see one guy talking to her, I’ll carve Jackie + Don 4ever on every tree in the gardens. With the five hundred dollar pen I’ll buy with your money.”

  He glowers at me but nods. Relief overwhelms me. I still don’t fully understand why I’m doing this, which is an even greater reason. If just looking at her gets me this dist
racted, seeing guys around her would be even worse. And I need to write.

  In my spot.

  She looks our way, as if she can sense we’re talking about her. I inhale sharply, taking in her soft features, and the sheen of her skin practically begs for a soft caress from a rough masculine hand.

  Woah, simmer down there writer’s brain. I am not writing a romance.

  “Are you sure, Rex?” Don looks over. The longing in his eyes hits too close to home. “You could just pay up and go talk to her now.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m sure.”

  Chapter Four

  Zara

  I’m sitting in the library, in a slightly uncomfortable chair, going over the reading for my first day of classes. There are a few new terms and expressions that I’d love to use on my sister, just to see her confusion. Most of my English classes until now have been with teachers from England, and the Americans have some hilarious ways of saying things.

  I try to ignore the two boys standing behind a bookcase staring at me. Of course, one of them is the gorgeous guy from lunch, his blond hair still falls over his eyes just enough that he has to sweep it back every few minutes. His blue eyes seem to have kept that coolness that they had this morning, however. It looks like he’s having some sort of debate with the other boy, and I look up to glare at them a few times to no effect. People have been staring at me all day, and I hate it. I hate feeling different, like every time I open my mouth, people are judging me. I just want to go home.

  No. I shake my head and dive back into my book. There’s one way to get home sooner, and that’s by proving I’ve mastered this ridiculous language, not by staring at beautiful rude boys.

  A few minutes later, I see Maria and Rosalie walk toward me. Trailing behind them by a few paces are the two boys they had their eyes on at lunch. My friends have silly grins on their faces, clearly pleased with the attention. The boys cast nonchalant glances at the books around them, unaware at how obvious they’re being.

  The blond guy is alone now behind the bookcase and hisses at his friends, who turn to him with frowns. Rosalie and Maria have finally made their way over to my chair, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes at how ridiculous they’re being.

  “Why don’t we just go say hello?” I suggest, and they both shake their heads.

  “That’s Rex Navarre,” says Rosalie. “He’s taken a vow of silence against girls for three months.”

  “Um, what?” I choke back a laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Who told you that?” They were with me nearly all afternoon, walking the halls, learning the routes to our classes the next day, our quiet chatter in French drawing the eyes of everyone we passed. I left them about an hour ago to hide—unsuccessfully—in the library from all the stares.

  “We read it on Knight Watch.”

  “That social media thing the tour guide tried to explain? I thought she was talking about the Rembrandt painting.” We’d seen a very good copy of it on display in the dean’s office during the tour. He knows my father somehow, or there’s no way I would have been sent here.

  “No, that’s the Night Watch, and they’re the knights here, like knights of the round table.”

  “Right, of course.” I bite my lip, not wanting to admit how confusing the difference between knight and night is to me. I avoid social media in general, so I had no plans of ever using it anyway.

  “Someone posted how Rex and his friends have a ‘no talking to girls’ rule right now,” Maria says.

  Hmm, this could be interesting. I have no reason to dislike the boy, however intent he seems on sending me cold glances. The way everyone treats him is almost reverent. I’ll admit he’s good looking, but it’s more than that. He looks like he’s in command somehow, like King Author surrounded by his Shelfbrooke knights. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s guys who think they’re better than everyone else.

  “Who just wakes up and decides to not talk to girls?” I let out a short, hard laugh. “What, is he too important to speak to the opposite sex?”

  Maria has a little smile on her face. “Let’s just see how far this rule goes.”

  With a tilt of an eyebrow, she turns and walks their way. My heart drops into my stomach while Rosalie whispers for her to stay and not cause trouble. Maria looks back and it’s all the encouragement I need. I take a deep breath before following her, deciding to have some fun. I look back, and Rosalie is shaking her head, but moving to join us.

  There is a bit of shuffling behind the bookcase, but by the time we get there, the three of them have their noses in books. Maria’s cheeks have gone pink, her earlier bravado vanishing in the face of the three undeniably attractive guys. Looks like it’s up to me. I clear my throat once, then twice, before Rex finally looks up.

  I ignore the flutter his pinched eyebrows set off in my stomach.

  “Excuse me,” I say as quietly as possible, so my accent isn’t as noticeable. By now my friends have come to flank me, their lips pressed together in hidden smiles.

  “Oh, why, hello,” says the dark-haired boy, with a look of mock surprise. He extends his hand toward Rosalie. “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

  “I’m Rosalie, and this is Zara and Maria.” Rosalie giggles as she takes his hand, and he actually kisses it like he’s a medieval knight and she’s a lady-in-waiting. I roll my eyes, and when Rosalie glances at me, I give her a small shake of my head. We do not like these boys, I try to tell her with my eyes. We’re here to torment them, not make friends.

  “I’m Leopold Reginald Longaville the third,” says the other, peering up from the book in his hand. Maria eyes his afro with poorly hidden interest in her dark eyes.

  “Reggie, stop being so formal,” says Rex and snaps his book shut, his eyebrows drawn together. “We’re not on the Vineyard.”

  “You own a vineyard?” says Maria, her eyes growing wide. “Which one?”

  “I meant Martha’s Vineyard.” Rex rolls his eyes, and I bristle. “It’s a beach town. Like…Saint Tropez.”

  I let out a short laugh. “A beach in Massachusetts?” I ask, making my tone as icy as possible. “I have a feeling it’s probably nothing like the Côte d’Azur.”

  As I stand there, staring down Rex, our friends all shift on their feet. Finally, Bronx clears his throat.

  “Rex, we should go. They’ll be posting the Navarre details soon.”

  My brows draw together. As much as I hate to appear like I don’t know anything, the way Rex’s eyes light up make me wonder.

  “What’s the big deal?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested.

  “It’s the biggest literature prize at the school,” says Leopold (or Reggie, apparently). “They’re posting the topic today.”

  “What kind of literature?” asks Rosalie, imitating my nonchalance, but I can see her interest burning underneath.

  “It’s classic English literature retellings,” says Bronx, turning toward Rosalie eagerly.

  My eyes widen, and I catch Rosalie’s calculating grin as well. Winning a prize in English literature would be the perfect way to show my parents how I’ve mastered the language.

  “There’s a big presentation in front of the judges in a few months. It’s a lot of fun to watch. Rex will probably win it, just like his grandad did in the 60s.” Reggie does that boy thing of punching Rex on the arm. Rex flushes, but a small smile lifts a corner of his lip. He’d be downright adorable if he weren’t so pompous. His friends seem to encourage his big head. I’m glad mine are so much more honest with me.

  “It sounds very interesting,” says Maria, her eyes fixed on Reggie. “Good luck to you all.”

  “We don’t need luck, just time to work on it,” says Rex, and he picks up his bag from the floor in a huff. He turns on his heels and heads down the alley of books, leaving Reggie and Bronx staring at my friends like wide-eyed cartoon characters. “Guys! Come on!”

  As soon as they’re out of sight, Maria and Rosalie burst into giggles. W
e get shushed by the librarian, and I quickly run back to the chair to pack my things so that we can leave.

  Once out in the hallway, I can barely hold it in.

  “This is the way to get back home,” I say, more excited than I was even when my brother, Ambroise, was a finalist for the Duchamps art prize. He didn’t win, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win this. “You’ll help me, right?”

  “I think you can do it yourself, you just need to believe in yourself more,” says Rosalie. “You were flawless back there.”

  I shake my head. I need to win, and the only way is if they help me. They’re not the ones who were sent away.

  Chapter Five

  Rex

  The soft accent of Zara is still echoing in my ears as I head back to my room.

  Why couldn’t Bronx just keep his mouth shut?

  One simple rule. No talking to girls.

  How hard it that, really? I managed to not do it, even with Don there practically forcing me to talk to her. At least he wasn’t there to see it and collect on his bet. If I’m not more careful, Bronx and Reggie will lose this game for me faster than you can say “oui, merci.”

  I can’t think about this now. There are more important things to worry about.

  It’s the moment I’ve been preparing for since I first walked into Shelfbrooke three years ago as a wide-eyed freshman. Really, it’s been even longer than that. I heard my father talk about the Navarre Prize every year when the alumni board would ask him to be on the committee. He always refused, but politely, of course. Said he was too busy with his own writing, no time for helping others. But the grumbling he’d do for weeks after was stuck in my memory like tiny little jagged barbs.