Ex-Factor (Diamond Girls) Read Online Free PDF Page A

to pronounce. I didn’t see the difficulty.
    Cartwright gave a small chuckle, revealing a beautiful smile. “Thanks for the help with the name. Good to have you with us, Nev.” He narrowed his eyes and scanned the empty seats surrounding me. “I don’t have a textbook for you yet, so you’ll need to share with Mr. Scott today. Bodie?”
    He cast my handsome nemesis an expectant glance, and I was sure, in that moment, that the universe was out to get me. I was being forced to share a book with the hot guy who hated my guts. My stomach heaved, and the urge to flee the room was an oppressive weight I couldn’t ignore. Damn, stinking anxiety!
    Aside from a hushed “tsk” sound and a low rumble, Bodie said nothing and quickly slid into the seat alongside me. He eyed me with a heavy amount of irritation, his gaze wavering between my desk, his book, and me.
    I realized he’d moved as far as he’d intended when he switched seats, and that it was up to me to scoot closer. I didn’t want to share, but knew I had no choice in the matter. I bit my lip and hefted my desk two feet to the right, leaving me close enough to read his book, but still giving me enough space to where I didn’t feel like I was smothering him.
    His scent didn’t share my caution, and smothered me into silent submission. Good God, he smells divine. I’d always been a bit obsessive over perfumes and colognes, and I knew his well: Acqua di Gio by Giorgio Armani. Thoroughly masculine and rich, he smelled like a delicious mixture of fruit, woodsy outdoors, and the sea. My first instinct was to lean over and take a giant whiff, but my sense of propriety and his clear dislike for me kept me in check.
    Silence filled the space between us, the awkward and obvious tension so thick you’d barely be able to cut through it with a hack saw, much less a knife. Unable to stand it a second longer, I choked out a feeble “thank you for sharing with me,” while privately enjoying the aromatic goodness.
    He cast a fleeting glance in my direction and clenched his jaw with an irritated sigh. “It’s whatever. Just make sure you get your own damn book before tomorrow. I’m not into sharing.”
    He looked at me then. I mean, really looked at me, then shook his head and turned away, mumbling something beneath his breath that sounded a lot like “especially not with spoiled bitches.”
    I flinched, momentarily stunned. It felt like I’d been punched, and I fought against the angry tears threatening to give me away. What was his problem? Why did he hate me? Pulse hammering, I clenched my jaw and sat silently in my seat, taking care to keep my expression void of emotion. There was no way I’d give the handsome jerk the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt me.
    It was in that quiet, embarrassed moment that I came to a very clear, very solid realization. Bodie Scott was a complete and total assbag, and I hated him.
     
    ***
     
    The rest of the day dragged on in a blur of strange faces and tedious assignments. I’d taken honors English the past two years, so the bonehead English class my aunt enrolled me in was a total breeze. I whizzed through the writing assignment we’d been given with time to spare and spent the rest of class stewing over the elusive and utterly repugnant Bodie Scott. I didn’t like him at all. I also didn’t like the way my breath hitched every time I pictured his face. Or his muscles. Or his tattoo. Yep. I was a sick puppy. Whacked out. Crazy.
    My therapist got pissy with me whenever I referred to myself in a negative manner. She insisted depression was common and normal after the loss of a loved one.
    I absently rubbed at the raised bump skimming the base of my skull and sighed. The little episode I had shortly after my mom was hospitalized wasn’t so normal or common, though, and the lovely doctor had quickly prescribed a regimen of happy pills to help me cope. Pills I’d refused to take until recently. It didn’t really come as a surprise