Page 18 of Billionaires Don't Date Cheerleaders

Sloane@its_sloane

:)

Call Me Jude@judeturner

Quick someone teach me French, I’m worried the teacher is going to call on me

Neeeeeeeil@neilhadley

W O W, not you stealing my tweet

Call Me Jude@judeturner

I personalized it to my life!!

Neeeeeeeil@neilhadley

Robbery. Burglary. Thievery.

Call Me Jude@judeturner

Imitation is the greatest form of flattery

Neeeeeeeil@neilhadley

Odd way to describe PLAGIARISM

Call Me Jude@judeturner

Didn’t one of those famous guys say good artists copy, great artists steal

Sloane@its_sloane

Did you just call Picasso “one of those famous guys”

Call Me Jude@judeturner

And what about it?? Was he not famous?? Was he not a guy??

“Mademoiselle Evans!” The call of my name harshly reminded me that I was actually in class and needed to be a little more subtle about what I was doing. I dropped my phone onto the desk and looked up, trying to act as if I’d been listening that whole time.

“Oui, Madame?” I asked. Thank goodness I remembered to speak French. While Madame Dubois frequently had to speak to us in English because we were all hopeless at French, she insisted that we at least used French for basic phrases that we knew.

“Please stay off your phone,” she said pointedly. I bit my lip but nodded and picked up my pencil instead. Once she turned her attention back to the board, Jude snickered. I glared at him.

“Why was I called out while you’re still tweeting?” I asked.

“I think you’re forgetting a key thing here,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m a celebrity.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh and that means you don’t get in trouble at all?”

“Nope,” he said. He winked. “And if you stick with me, I can keep you out of trouble too.”

“Well, that hasn’t been working well for me so far, has it?”

“I guess we’ll just have to keep trying, won’t we?”

I grinned a little as I looked at the board, trying to catch myself up on whatever it was we were doing in class right then. I might as well not have bothered, though, because my phone buzzed again a second later, and given the choice between French class or Twitter, I would always choose the latter, even if it was risky to try when Madame Dubois was already suspicious. The notification was for a response to one of my tweets from Friday.