Celebrities Don’t Date Bookworms (Texting the Boyband #1)

Chapter 10

ten

“So, what class do we have next?” Hudson asked jovially as we walked out of the room at the end of the period. I gritted my teeth and didn’t respond. After an hour and a half of my whole class gawking at me, and Hudson asking me about every single thing our teacher said—because surprise! he was even worse at French than I was—I was over this whole thing. Didn’t the principal ask for volunteers to be the guides? Last time I checked, I definitely did not volunteer for this. I guess I could have tried to say no, even after Sloane said yes for me, but that would have made everything awkward.

“ We don’t have the same schedule,” I said finally. My voice was icier than I meant for it to be, but I just rolled with it. With any luck, he would request a new guide by the end of the day. “So, I don’t know what class you have next.”

“Well, what class do you have next?” he asked. He grinned at me, and I noticed the stupid dimple on his cheek. I couldn’t believe I thought that was cute when I first met him—now, it was just annoying me. “I’ll just go with you.”

“You can’t miss your classes on your first day,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“And why not?”

“Because… Because that’s just how school works! But I bet you probably think you’re above all the rules, right Mr. Celebrity?”

The smile slipped off Hudson’s face, but the mischievous glint didn’t leave his eyes. After being friends with Sloane for so long, I knew that was a bad sign, and I hurried my steps. We only had five minutes to get from one to the next, and I had to get to the total opposite side of the school for my next class. Originally, I was scheduled for gym class at this time, which would have been nice since it was in the same area of the school—but then Sloane convinced me to switch classes so we could have identical schedules. It was worth it to be with her, but every time I had to do this walk, I regretted it just a little bit.

“You don’t like me,” Hudson said as we walked into English class. Sloane wasn’t there yet—probably because she was walking Jude to his next class like a good guide—so when I sat down, Hudson sat down next to me in her spot, which was completely ridiculous because hello — he needed to get to his next class like right now. “Is it because I spilled coffee on you? It is because of that, isn’t it?”

“That definitely didn’t help,” I said, staring at the table in front of me. I was over pretending that I wasn’t upset about it like I had been at the mall. At the time, that seemed like the best way to get rid of him. Now, it seemed different. “I mean, I was craving that coffee all day, and then you just came long, and spilled?—”

“You’re more annoyed about me spilling it in general instead of me burning your chest?”

“I…” I let out a breath. “Shut up.”

Hudson laughed, a deep sound that reverberated from his chest. A couple of girls in the first row looked at us over their shoulders. The first girl’s face softened as she looked at Hudson and smiled, but the other one’s attention was solely on me, and there definitely wasn’t a smile on her face.

“Friends of yours?” Hudson asked quietly as he smiled back at the one girl.

“Do they look like they like me?” I asked snidely. I didn’t really care if they liked me or not, but the fact that it was probably me “getting” to be Hudson’s guide that caused them to hate me made me angry. I hadn’t chosen this. I would have happily traded places with anyone in the school if I could have.

“I don’t know…” Hudson mused. “The one girl seems nice.”

“Did you miss the part where she was smiling at you and not me?”

“Well, she recognizes me.”

“I’ve gone to school with them for four years.” I actually didn’t know for certain if that was true. Summerfield had grades 7-12, and I had started at grade seven, but a lot of people started in grade nine instead. I knew most of the people in my grade, but I didn’t recognize either of them, so there was a possibility that they were new this year. It was rare for people to start later than that, but obviously not impossible—the Take Five boys were doing it, as were the boys in the group chat.

“Tell me about yourself,” Hudson said. He turned stupidly far in his chair until he was basically sitting sideways, with one foot drawn up to his chest, and grinned goofily at me. If he had been anyone else, I might have found it endearing.

I looked at the clock. The bell was going to ring any time now, and he would get in trouble for being here. As much fun as I was sure it would be to watch that (assuming it did happen because we all knew that celebrities could get away with basically anything), I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t get in trouble for it too, and I didn’t want to deal with that. If I was lucky, maybe I would get removed from being his guide, but I had a feeling that it was more likely that I’d just get chewed out by my teacher or the vice-principal.

“Seriously,” I said, “what class are you supposed to be in?”

Hudson shrugged and held his hands out to the sides like he wanted to show that he wasn’t holding his schedule. “Not a clue.”

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes. “I know they gave you a schedule, Hudson. There’s no way they told you to follow your guide around all day.”

“Well, not all day,” Hudson said. “I don’t have a last period class. Have to leave school early to do…” He waved a hand around like he wasn’t sure how to describe whatever fascinating things he did after school. “Band things.”

“Lucky you,” I muttered.

Sloane came running into the room, huffing and puffing like she’d run a marathon. I guess she’d walked Jude to his class, then came running here. With her head down, she half-shuffled, half-stumbled over to our desk, only seeming to realize Hudson was there once she dropped her backpack on top of his.

She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Hudson said politely. He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hudson. If I’m not mistaken, I think we met at Starbucks last week.”

“That we did,” Sloane said, shaking his hand. “I told you that you’d be seeing a lot more of us soon.”

“Indeed.” Hudson nodded. “I hope you don’t mind that I took your spot. Megan here just insisted that I sit with her. I was going to wait to find an empty desk, but she practically forc— Ow!” He rubbed his arm where I’d punched him. He looked at Sloane and shook his head. “You see how she treats me?”

Sloane grinned. “You get used to it.”

I looked at Sloane over Hudson's shoulder. “He won’t tell me what class he’s supposed to be in now.”

“Well, I guess he’s in this one now, then,” Sloane said with a happy shrug. Like in our last period, she moved to the desk behind, and sat down. I sighed in annoyance—what was the point of rearranging my whole schedule to be the same as my best friend’s if I didn’t even get to sit with her in every class?

“We were just discussing the reasons Megan doesn’t like me,” Hudson told Sloane. “So far on the list is that I spilled coffee on her.”

“She does take her coffee very seriously,” Sloane said with a small nod. I glared at her. It was like she was trying to flirt by proxy for me, which I did not ask for at all.

The class bell rang, and Mrs. Kavinsky stood up from her desk, making her way to the front of the class.

“Okay, everyone, let’s settle down,” she said. She held her hands out palm down, and slowly lowered them to signal to everyone to be quiet. She did a lot of stuff like that, which made me think she was more used to teaching kindergarteners than high schoolers. When all the noise in the room tapered off, she smiled. “Fantastic, thank you. So, I hear we have a new student in the class today.”

Her gaze landed on Hudson, and I frowned. Did that mean he was actually supposed to be in here? Why hadn’t he said anything? Or was she just assuming he was supposed to be because he was sitting here and acting like it?

“Yes, ma’am,” Hudson said politely. It was the same persona that had won over my mom at the mall on the weekend. “And English is my favorite subject, so I’m looking forward to this class.”

The girls who had been looking at us before practically swooned. Over what, I wasn’t sure—maybe his accent? There were a lot of kids at our school with the same accent, so I wasn’t sure why they thought Hudson’s was so great. Besides, after talking to Bay a few times, I felt like I was immune to the magic of a British accent. Nobody’s would be hotter than his, so I didn’t care how good Hudson’s sounded.

Mrs. Kavinsky smiled, and nodded, then broke into her beginning of class spiel. Hudson smiled at me cheekily.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you?” I whispered.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his smile not faltering at all.

“You’ve convinced everyone you’re so perfect,” I said. I narrowed my eyes. “But I know it isn’t real. You’re just a publicist’s dream.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hudson’s smile turned into a bit of a smirk. “I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

“I guess you will.”