Forbidden Fruit by Anna Lee Page A

even know him.
    Mr. Brody’s unnecessarily loud throat clearing brought me back to the present. He was staring at me with arms crossed over his chest, a disappointed expression on his face. Great . I glanced around and found everyone else staring at me as well, most with knowing smirks on their faces. “I take it you need the question repeated Miss Grace?” he asked impatiently, and then added to Michael, “Unless you can answer?”
    Michael gave a nonchalant smile to Mr. Brody and said, “The French Revolution,” in a deep, somewhat arrogant tone.
    Mr. Brody’s eyebrows cocked up, he had clearly assumed neither of us had heard the question. Then he produced a humph noise and said, “At least one of you was paying attention. I expect more from you Ms. Grace,” he chided. I hated disappointing people; it cut me like nothing else could.
    If there was a shade of red darker than maroon, my face was that color. Mr. Brody always liked to humiliate students, but generally speaking, I was in good standing with him. I bet that act of idiocy combined with the oh so physical display of embarrassment really impressed the new guy. I wanted to crawl under a rock.
    For the rest of the class, I didn’t look toward Michael. Actually, I didn’t look toward my left at all, employing extra cautious measures. I diligently took notes on what I assumed was the French Revolution. My mind wasn’t really there, I was still dwelling on the obvious ogling the entire class witnessed, but my hand was playing out the motions of the attentive student routine.
    As the classes went by that day, I felt like I was in a game of wills. I could feel the heat of Michael’s eyes on me for most of the classes, and I tried to ignore the rush of excitement it caused me. I refused to look his way, though I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t want to recreate the scene in first period, especially not while Lacy was watching.
    I did hear her speak to him once in her whispering, I want to take my clothes off for you , voice. I cringed inside. I hated the idea of him with her, though I had no claim of my own to him. Something about the two of them together made my blood boil with jealousy, a feeling that was foreign to me. I was always the girl who assumed no guy was worth warring over. What was wrong with me? Why on earth was I having these possessive thoughts about him? He wasn’t mine. He wasn’t anyone’s as far as I knew. Besides, a guy like that could get any girl he wanted. Why would I even entertain the idea that I would have some sort of stake?
    At lunch, I pushed my way through the gawking girls surrounding Michael’s table and sat with Bailey and Eric. The new lovebirds were too interested in each other to notice I had sat down. Without anyone to distract me, my eyes began to wonder, naturally falling on Michael. He was suffocated by girls desperate to get the slightest reaction out of him. Apparently he wasn’t just quiet around me, he didn’t really say much to anyone. When our eyes met, I found myself once again locked into the inescapable depth of his. I was jarred back to reality when Jason slid into the seat beside mine, blocking my view.
    “ Hey pretty girl,” he purred. His cute face was grinning at me and sitting far too close for friends. “Not going to join the fun?” he asked nodding toward Michael.
    “ No, I don’t like to share,” I quipped, successfully sounding completely uninterested. Impressive for someone who was a terrible liar.
    “ Ah, neither do I,” he smiled. Jason’s gaze was similar to Michael’s, not in meaning or intention, but in the feeling it gave me. It was as if there was something stirring behind his eyes, something tempting, waiting to be discovered.
    But then I recalled Jason’s behavior the prior night. I was supposed to be mad at him, well sort of. “So, did you get in trouble last night? What time did you leave?”
    Jason seemed caught off guard by my line of questioning.