Page 5 of Don’t Love the Boy Next Door (Hotties Next Door #2)

Chapter Four

Ethan

Why is it that the only thing I can think about whenever I shut my eyes is the feeling of Phoenix’s soft, warm arms wrapped around my waist?

She’s not the first girl to ride on my bike. Charlotte has ridden behind me countless times. But never have I lost sleep over it.

I laugh when I think about her squeezing my stomach as I sped up, or the way she poked my back with her nose.

The normally cool and confident girl was actually terrified to be on my bike.

She’d never admit it, though. That’s what makes me chuckle even more.

She’s always got this strong armor on, but I’ve had a peek at the vulnerable side of her.

And I can’t forget her relieved look when my bike pulled up beside her when she was alone on the streets.

She masked it with anger, but I know she was glad I came.

I sweep my phone from under my pillow to check the time.

School will start in an hour and a half.

Pulling myself up, I take a shower, get dressed, and meet Mom downstairs in the kitchen.

Eric’s still in his room. What was up with him and Katie yesterday?

He thought he could hide it, but I’ve known him for sixteen years.

As curious as I am, I’m not pushing him to tell me.

I just hope he gets it together by next practice.

Mom smiles at me. “You’re up early.”

I grab some cereal and milk and join her at the table. “Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

I look over my texts from last night. Nothing from Charlotte. I don’t even know what we’re doing or what we are. And I don’t want to ask her because I’m worried what her reply would be. Would I be able to handle her rejecting me again?

Mom watches me check my phone every five minutes. “Are you waiting for a text from a girl?”

“Sort of. Charlotte and I have been texting and video chatting.”

“That’s great, honey.” She takes a sip of her steaming coffee. “Charlotte’s a nice girl.”

“Yeah.” She’s not just nice. She’s everything. Before I was a jock and popular, I had a massive crush on her. Never thought I’d ever muster the courage to talk to her. But I did and we were together for two years, until she broke up with me.

Eric stumbles into the kitchen half an hour later, rubbing his eyes. His hair stands up on all ends, as though he didn’t bother brushing it. And he looks like he hardly slept. Hmm. Does Katie have anything to do with it?

“Morning,” he mumbles as he grabs a bowl and plops down next to me.

Mom’s eyes rove over his messy hair. It’s gotten pretty long and he doesn’t bother to do anything about it. “Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks him.

He stifles a yawn. “Yeah, I’m great.” He must realize she doesn’t believe him, and adds, “Was up all night composing a song.”

Mom looks from me to my brother. “What did we decide? That we won’t allow your hobbies to interfere with your schoolwork. Your education comes first, no matter what.”

Eric’s eyes widen. “No, it’s not like that,” he quickly says. “I’m not pushing the band before school.”

She holds his gaze. “I wonder if it’s too much for you to balance the band and the musical.”

“Mom, I’m fine. I swear.”

I want to snort, because he’s definitely not fine, but I don’t want to mess this up for him. He’s never had an interest in musicals, but he seems really into this Beauty and the Beast thing. Besides, I won’t let him lose the band. We’ve put too much into it to let it crumble now.

She nods. “All right.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “Have you heard from your father?”

Eric and I shake our heads. He used to call at least once a month. We haven’t heard from him in weeks. I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a dad. But Eric cares. A lot.

Mom spills the remainder of her coffee in the sink, then turns to us. “I’m headed to work now. Any requests for dinner?”

I shrug while Eric shakes his head.

We’re quiet as we finish eating. Then he climbs into his car while I get on my bike.

The image and feeling of Phoenix behind me flash before my eyes. What’s with me? Why can’t I stop thinking about it?

I rev the engine and take off toward school.

I try to understand myself, why I keep thinking about her.

Then I remember we haven’t started working on our school project.

She left my house the other day before we got anything done.

If we don’t start soon, I’ll fail history, and that will be the end to my football dreams.

I reach school and enter the building. My head whips around until I find her at her locker, trying to work her combination. The lockers at this school suck. Half of them are broken.

As I make my way over to her—the girls chasing after me as they’ve been doing since the start of school—I hear her muttering under her breath as she tries to pry the thing open.

“Can I help?” I ask.

She lifts her head. “I’ve got it.” She tries again, fails, and curses.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She glares at me. “More than sure. Why are you even here? Your fans are waiting for you.” She nods toward the group of kids watching us.

I lean against the lockers. “We need to get serious about the project.”

She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think you cared that much about school. You know, being this popular quarterback and everything.”

I shrug. “I don’t care about school. Not really. But I’ll be kicked off the team if I fail.”

She finally yanks the locker door open. “And that’s my problem…why?”

I run my hand through my hair. “You want me to beg?”

A smile tickles her lips. “As if that would ever happen.” She slams the locker shut.

“Let’s meet after school. I don’t have football practice today.”

Clutching her books to her chest, she rolls her eyes. “Of course you’re only thinking about yourself. Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Football Jock, that I might have plans?”

I lift a brow. “To game?”

“You did not just say that.”

“Say what?”

She snorts. “You basically said my gaming is nothing compared to your football. Well, let me tell you something, hotshot, my gaming is much, much better than your dumb sport.”

I chuckle, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why do you keep twisting my words? I didn’t crap on your gaming. I just think you can do that after we’re done with the project.”

“Maybe I don’t want to wait until we’re done.” She whips around and struts down the hall.

I follow, the crowd inching behind me. Half the kids have scattered, maybe bored with the conversation. Or maybe they’re bored of me. Truth is, I wouldn’t mind them giving me some breathing room. I don’t like being in the center of attention, despite what others might think.

“Phoenix, stop walking,” I call. But she continues marching down the hallway. Not to class, since it’s a little too early for that. I don’t think she’s walking anywhere specific. She just wants to get away from me. “Can you please stop for a second?”

She presses her books to her chest before doing what I ask. “What do you want from me? The project? I told you I don’t care.”

I bend close and she flinches back. “Look, I can’t fail this class. Or any class.” I swallow. “I can’t lose football.”

She snorts.

“I’m serious, Phoenix.” My voice lowers to a whisper.

“I uprooted my family from a good life back in L.A. My mom loved her job, but she gave it up so I could follow my dream. If I lose football, then I made her do all that for nothing.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Please, Phoenix. This is very important to me.”

She purses her lips, her hands tugging her hair as if she’s suddenly uncomfortable. “Fine. We’ll meet after school.”

“Thanks. Mrs. Holden suggested we go to the art museum for inspiration. Meet me in the parking lot?”

Her eyes narrow. “I’d rather meet at the museum.”

I lift a brow. “Not interested in another ride on my bike?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to class.”

I can’t help but laugh as I watch her go.

“Ethan!” The crowd of girls rushes over to me, shouting many different things.

I keep my eyes on Phoenix until she vanishes into the classroom.

***

I check my texts as I wait for Phoenix to come. I’m sitting in the entrance to the museum, but she has yet to make an appearance. Maybe she lied and has no intention of coming.

My phone beeps and my eyes shoot to it. Charlotte wants to know how my day was. We text for a little bit before a shadow hovers above me. Glancing up, I find Phoenix standing there.

She waves her hand. “Don’t stop on my account.”

I slip my phone into my pocket. “Let’s start.”

She glances around. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Mrs. Holden said to pick an artist who speaks to you. Then we need to learn about his history and the history of the art.”

She puffs her cheeks. “Sounds complicated, but let’s go.” She nods toward the left. “You start at that end and I’ll start there. Pick someone you think is cool or interesting.”

“Or we can look at the paintings together.”

She twists her nose. “I’d rather not.”

“Why do you hate me?”

Her lips press into a tight line. Then she says, “I think I have enough reasons.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Name them.”

She throws her hands up. “Because you’ve been a jerk to me since the beginning.” She narrows her eyes. “And I hate that you think you have a hold over me because you rescued me like some knight in shining armor.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Hold over you? What are you talking about?”

“You saved me and now I owe you. But I never asked you to come find me.”

I just gape at her. “I don’t expect anything from you.”

She’s quiet, eyes holding mine. Then she scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Phoenix, I’m serious.”

“Fine. Let’s do this your way. Find a painting you like and we’ll go from there.”

We seriously have no idea exactly what we’re doing as we go from painting to painting. Honestly? They’re all pretty spectacular. I don’t know anything about art, though, so I’m really out of my element here.

Phoenix reads the plaques on the walls and we decide to go with the painter who has the most captivating story.

We sit on the chairs outside the exhibit and start Googling him. Phoenix reads interesting facts about him out loud, and together we decide what we want to include in our report.

My phone keeps dinging as Charlotte texts me. Many other girls text me as well, which makes Phoenix turn up her nose.

I ignore the other girls, but not Charlotte. I’m not about to mess up my shot at getting back together with her.

Phoenix continues to watch me with that annoyed expression on her face.

“It’s not what you think,” I say, having this weird need to justify myself to her. Why do I care if she forms the wrong opinion about me?

She holds up her hands. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s my ex.”

Her head perks up with curiosity. “She misses you?” I’m not sure if she’s mocking me or genuinely curious. I’m hoping the latter, because I really don’t want this girl to hate me.

“I think so.”

“And you miss her.”

I nod.

She resumes Googling and I do the same. My eyes keep creeping in her direction, though, and I’m not sure why.

“I think we have everything we need,” she says a few minutes later. “I’ll gather all the facts and write the report.”

“We should do it together,” I say. “Holden will know we both didn’t write it.”

She lifts a brow, a tiny smile on her lips. “Because your writing sucks?”

I laugh. “Pretty much.”

“Fine. We’ll write it together.” She gets to her feet. “I’m going home now.”

“You sure you don’t want a ride?”

“Yep, thanks.”

I can try to convince her, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. So I tell her I’ll see her tomorrow and leave the museum.

My phone dings with more texts, but I’m too busy thinking about Phoenix and how she sort of teased me about my writing skills.

Chuckling to myself, I put my helmet on and climb onto my bike.