06

I'M BEYOND NERVOUS for how this might go down.

For one, if anyone—and I mean, anyone—finds out about our ruse, it's over. We'd both be done for.

I shudder at the thought. Lila said she would meet me in the parking lot, and just as promised, she exits the front doors and begins to walk in my direction. The crowd of students have dissipated by now.

I told Lila to meet a bit later so that people wouldn't see us until we actually made a public scene. She agreed and it almost shocked me.

But I had been completely shocked when she gave her request—more shocked than when she had punched me. Which should say something considering I still have a faint bruise. Matthews' got a mean right hook.

I'm leaning against my car when Lila catches up and says, "Are you rich? Because your car is pretty rich."

I raise a brow at her, she's always asking questions. "How can a car be rich?"

She rolls her big, brown eyes at me. "You know what I mean, smart-ass. And didn't I tell you? No one likes a smart-ass."

I scoff. "Says the girl who begged me to be her fake boyfriend."

She narrows her eyes as I open the passenger door for her, "I did not beg."

I shut the door in her face, and round the car to the drivers' seat, casting her a look as I settle in. "You practically begged."

"Yeah, well, you practically begged me to tutor you," she counters as I put the car into drive and vanish out of the parking lot.

"So? A lot of girls would kill for a guy who cares about their education—you say it like it's a bad thing," I say with a smirk, and she glowers.

"Smart-ass."

"Kill-joy."

She rolls her eyes again—something she does a lot around me, I've realized. Or, no. Something she does a lot period.

The drive to her house is pretty silent up until I catch sight of those purple fences of hers. I was tempted to ask about them last time—but it was hard when she was probably seeing two of me.

"Out of all the colors—why purple?" I say, once we've reached her driveway. I look to her to find her eyes on me. She quickly looks away and shrugs.

"I asked my mom the same thing," she mumbles, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. "Come on."

I slide out of my seat and follow her to the door. She quickly unlocks it and in no time we're inside the house the Lila Matthews lives in.

It's a lot different than what I thought it'd be. Though, I should have guessed that right away from the fence.

There's an narrow hallway we walk down—decorated with what I think is horror film posters—that leads into the open the living room and kitchen.

The style is like any other house you'd see, but the decorations are what make it unique.

I walk over to the piano siting by the bay window and examine the trophy filled with flowers.

"We moved pretty quick—didn't have a lot of time to shop for new furniture. So we made do, and once we were settled we had grown accustom to...well, this," Lila explains from somewhere behind me.

I spin around, "You moved?" I didn't know that. I thought she had always lived here.

Lila's eyes widen and she casts her gaze to the ground. "Yeah," she clears her throat, noticeably looking flustered. "Years and years ago. But that doesn't matter," she swings her bag higher onto her shoulder and begins to move toward the kitchen.

Just as I'm moving away from the piano a voice rings out through the house. "Lila? Is that you?"

Lila's brows furrow as an older version of herself walks into the kitchen. Her hair is the same dark brown as Lila's, same dark eyes too. Her expression goes from confused to elated in about five seconds when she sees me.

"Oh my god," she says, almost disbelieving. "You're actually real?" she whispers, mouth hanging open in awe.

I chuckle, "I would hope so."

"Mom," Lila grinds out, turning toward Mrs. Matthews. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

She slowly moves her eyes away from me and to her daughter. "I got off early—but why am I getting questioned? You didn't say you were bringing him over today!" She grins brightly and flicks her gaze between us.

I can tell by Lila's reaction, she hadn't planned to tell her mother I was coming over at all.

Mrs. Matthews sticks her hand out and smiles at me. "I'm Eleanor," she says, excitement clear on her face.

I take her hand and give it a firm shake. "Chase."

"The boyfriend," she wiggles her brows and Lila stiffens beside me.

She's going to blow our cover with the frown on her face. I swiftly slide an arm her shoulder, my skin touching against the base of her neck. I brush my thumb over her shoulder, feeling her slowly relax.

"The one and only," I grin. "Well—I sure hope so."

Mrs. Matthews laughs at that, and I award myself ten points. "Oh, are you kids hungry?"

I'm about to answer when Lila slaps a hand over my mouth, her palm pressing into my lips and shakes her head furiously.

"Nope!" She says, smiling gently at her mother. "We're just going to go upstairs and study for an hour," she guides me toward the stairs, all whilst having her hand still up against my mouth.

Mrs. Matthews looks slightly disappointed, but sobers and throws on another smile. "Alright, you kids have fun studying."

Lila shudders, horrified, at her mother's insinuation and it takes everything in me not to burst out laughing. "We will." Then she hauls me upstairs and slams the door to her room.

She still has her hand on my mouth and I dart my tongue out to notify her of this. She immediately yanks it back and I give her a golden grin.

"Did you just lick me?"

"Yes," I say with no hesitation.

"You just took Golden Retriever to a whole new level, Rhodes," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't know what that means, but thank you," I flop onto her bed and glance around her room. It honestly looks...bare. Like she hasn't brought any life to it. I recall her words, that she moved in and didn't have time to decorate, but it's been years, right?

Wouldn't she, at some point, want to make it her own?

Lila takes a seat next to me and unzips her bag, "Please tell me you brought your textbooks," she says primly, flipping through the pages of her own.

I lift my backpack to the bed and empty the contents onto her white comforter. She thumbs through the chapters of a history textbook while I wait for her to instruct me to do...well, actually, I don't really know.

History is not a subject I dwell in. Math? Hell, yes. Physics? Yup. But history? I wouldn't be able to do well if I got paid.

Though money is a pretty good motivator.

But there's just something about it that bores the hell out of me. It feels like every single story is the same—not to mention it all takes place in the past. Why do we still care about the past?

I think the education system should take some notes from Elsa and let. It. Go.

"Alright," Lila sighs. "We'll begin on chapter seven, do you have your notes?"

I hand her a dented notebook that she glares at and begrudgingly takes into her own hands. "This is where you keep your notes?"

I shrug, nonchalantly.

"This is going to be one very long hour," she grumbles, and I have a feeling she might be right.

It is, in fact, a very long hour.

By the end of it, my head is pounding with the facts Lila has been tossing my way. I don't think I've grappled onto any of them. They go in one ear, and right out the other.

I'm playing with the pen I found at the bottom of my backpack when Lila throws a pillow at me and says, "Are you even listening to me?"

"Do you want me to lie or tell you the truth?"

The truth would be that I stopped listening to her about ten minutes ago, when I found this pen.

The lie would be I understand every single word of this textbook.

I think it's pretty obvious I'm a lost cause on this subject.

"Chase," she grumbles, snatching the pen out of my hand. I try to steal it out of her hand but she places it high above her head, causing me to stretch over her body to get to it.

I grab her arm and pry her hands away from the pen, ignoring her yelp, and only realizing our position once I have it in my hand.

My hand is pressed by her thigh on the bed, and her face is tucked into my chest. My breath is suddenly mingling with hers and I quickly move away, clearing my throat as I try to calm my heartbeat.

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks everywhere but at me. I run a hand through my hair, "I don't focus very well when it's quiet," I don't know why I say it. Probably because it's so awkward I might trip over myself, but it comes out naturally and it seems to dissipate the tension.

"I shouldn't be surprised," she smirks. "but why not? Usually for people it's the opposite."

I don't know how to answer her question, which is why I just shrug, suddenly wishing I hadn't said anything at all.

"Well then how am I supposed to get you to obtain at least a quarter of this? I don't have all day for you—you're limited to an hour, remember?" she says sternly, though I see a glimmer of tease in her eyes.

I ponder it for a moment before grinning broadly. "I think I have an idea."