Chapter Seven RHETT

Fuck me running, how did she do that? She actually looks even better than she did only a few minutes ago when we were talking. Flirting.

Whatever you want to call it.

She’s extra hot with the red lips and the slicked back dark hair. That damn ponytail swinging, tempting me to grab hold of it and wrap those silky strands around my fist. It’s so long, I bet it would wrap around twice …

“You’re taking this class?” she asks, her voice breathless. Her brows are drawn together and she’s frowning slightly. Like maybe she’s not thrilled at the idea of me being in another class with her.

“Definitely.” I lean back in my seat, blatantly checking her out. The skirt is a little short, showing off her slender thighs and smooth knees. She has pretty legs. I’ve always been more of an ass man, but I’ll convert for Willow Lancaster.

“Photography and film making?” Now her brows are shooting up in question.

“Thought it would be an easy A.” I shrug. May as well be truthful with her. “Is that why you’re taking it?”

“Noooo.” She draws the word out, shaking her head. “It fits right in with what I want to do in college.”

“And what do you want to do in college?”

“I want to major in art history.”

“This class is more about making history than studying it,” I point out, feeling the need to keep up this conversation. The teacher is still at his desk, shuffling through papers, so I’m making the most of this moment.

“I’m hoping it’ll help me cultivate my eye.” I must give her a look because she further explains herself. “My artistic eye. Like how I see things. Photography definitely hones your view and makes you look at the world in a different way.”

I’m nodding along with her, but I’ve never thought of photography that way. I’ve heard the teacher prefers we use our phones to take photos and film stuff, and he gives mostly A’s as long as you turn in your assignments on time. Talk about easy. Everyone raves about this class and how you can coast right through it.

I need that. Every easy class I could find at this school, I’ve taken. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here, but my parents convinced me and my brother that this would be a good move. At my previous high school, I never got a chance to play football much because it was such a big team and ultra-competitive, from the students to the parents to the coaches. Everyone wanted to go there because the team won championship after championship—eight out of the last ten seasons. That’s fucking huge.

Being on that team was stressful as hell. There were three quarterbacks that were older and better than me. And I was secondstring QB on the JV team because the number one guy was the little brother of the first-string quarterback on the varsity team.

It was bullshit. I knew it. My dad definitely knew it. When Mom suggested I go to another high school, I was reluctant at first. Then Dad took a job coaching an NFL team on the East Coast and it sort of fell into place. This has turned out to be the best move for my future as a football player.

Because I will have a future playing football. I’m working my ass off to ensure it, and last season we almost took it all the way.

This year, we’re on track for more. I can feel it in my soul. We’re going to be state champions if I have anything to do with it. And considering I’m the team captain and the QB, we’re gonna make it happen. Coach Turner demands nothing less than excellence, and the way we’ve looked during practice, we’re going to deliver.

“Your artistic eye, huh?” I finally ask, realizing that I haven’t responded to her yet.

She nods, the ponytail swinging. A constant temptation. “Yes. Definitely. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear me ramble on about art.”

I could listen to her sweet voice all damn day if she wanted to keep talking to me. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re humoring me. It’s okay.” She waves a hand and twists her body so she’s facing toward the front of the class. “I know I can be boring sometimes.”

My mouth drops open and I’m ready to tell her she’s the furthest thing from boring to me, but the teacher starts talking, effectively ending our conversation. Willow isn’t even paying attention to me any longer. Her focus is one hundred percent on the teacher, which means my focus is one hundred percent on her.

Boring. Does she really believe that? I wonder if someone said that to her just to try and tear her down. Maybe some jealous bitch who views her as competition because … yeah.

There is nothing boring about this girl. All that long dark hair I’d like to see down. The deep blue eyes and red, red mouth. Her lips are currently parted as she hurriedly scribbles something down in her open notebook and I realize I’ve got nothing out. Not a piece of paper, not even a pencil.

First day of school we don’t really take notes—at least I don’t. All the teachers pass out a syllabus and go over expectations. Isn’t that good enough? Especially in a class like this. It’s not about note taking and written tests. We’ll have to turn in photos and extremely short videos. How hard can it be?

Leaning forward, I tilt my body to the left, drawing closer to her so I can peek over her shoulder to see what she’s written so far. Her handwriting is perfect of course. I can read it clearly.

Willow catches me spying on her notes and sends me a faint dirty look. “What are you doing?”

Her whisper settles right in my balls. I’m not even deterred by the vague irritation I hear in her question. “Making sure I’m not missing anything.”

The person sitting in front of Willow hands her a syllabus at the same time I receive one too. And on that syllabus is the same thing Willow already wrote down.

“I guess I don’t need to take notes. It’s all here,” Willow seems to murmur to herself as she scans the class expectations and upcoming assignments.

“You sound almost disappointed.”

She says nothing. Just keeps reading the syllabus.

“You coming to my practice today?”

Willow shoots me the quickest look. “Probably not.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“You can watch me.” I thrust out my chest. She’ll want to watch me. I’ll put on a show just for her.

Well, and all the other girls that’ll probably be out there. But everything I do today will be only for my new friend Will.

“I don’t think so.” Her tone is haughty. It kind of turns me on. “I’ve got other things to do.”

“Better than watching me play?”

She turns her head, her gaze meeting mine directly. “Definitely.”

I rest my hand on my chest. “I’m wounded, Willy.”

“I told you not to call me that.” She sends me a death glare.

“Do you have a question for the class, Miss Lancaster?”

Oh damn. The teacher just called her out and from the look on her pretty face, she doesn’t like it.

“I’m fine, Mr. Chen. Just answering a question that he had.” She jerks her thumb in my direction.

“Well, Mr. Bennett, do you have a question for me?”

“No, sir.” I shake my head, sitting up straighter.

The teacher moves on, turning off the lights and turning on the overhead projector to explain the various parts of an iPhone camera compared to an Android.

A snooze-fest. Though Willow seems totally into it, her expression enraptured as she stares at the image shown on the white board.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

She shushes me, which only makes me want to talk to her more.

“Maybe you should come to my practice and take photos,” I suggest.

“I’m not going.”

“You’ll be there.” I say this with complete confidence. She might not show up today, but she will.

Eventually.

Damn, I really do love a challenge.

“No, I won’t.” She won’t even look at me and I’m tempted to get in her face, but that’ll just piss Mr. Chen off and I don’t feel like dealing with him.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t show up,” I practically taunt.

“Doubtful.” Her lips curve upward though, like what I said was funny.

“Hey, it’s your loss.” I lean back in my seat once again, kicking my feet out. She’ll show up.

They always do.