The Naughty List Read Online Free PDF Page B

until there was only the sound of the ticking furnaces and buzzing fluorescent bulbs before exchanging a glance. It was getting harder and harder to keep up this covert baloney. I missed just being a regular cheerleader. I missed worrying about high kicks instead of high jinks.
    But I was a Smitten Kitten. I had responsibilities.
    “Come on,” I said, dropping Kira’s hand. “I don’t want Aiden to get suspicious.” I jogged ahead toward the back double doors.
     
    “Now that is a good-looking boy,” Kira whispered next to me in history class. “Heard he just transferred in from West Washington.”
    I followed her devious stare over my shoulder to the boy in the back near the bookcase. He was new. Huh—that was odd. Principal Pelli hadn’t made me aware of any transferring students, and as head of the Washington High welcoming committee, I should have been informed. I twitched my nose.
    “Yeah, I guess,” I said, turning back around. Mr. Powell was still at his podium in an animated discussion about the former Soviet Union. It was making my head hurt. He’d obviously had some pent-up anger about the Cold War, whenever that was.
    “You guess?” Kira kicked at my sneaker under the table. “Look at that hair! He looks like that surfer I dated last summer. Remember him?”
    Of course I remembered him. I had seen his sandy rear when I walked in on them at Leona’s parents’ beach house.
    I exhaled and turned again. Sure, he did have that chin-length, chocolaty-cute hair that perfectly framed his strong jaw line. And okay, there were his eyelashes: long and curled, accentuating the soft olive tone of his smooth skin. But—
    Suddenly he looked up, staring directly at me. My mouth fell open for a second in surprise, but I snapped it shut and offered a polite smile. He grinned. Slowly, and slightly mortified, I turned in my seat and dropped my head.
    “Thanks, K. Now he thinks I was checking him out.”
    “Well, I was checking him out,” she said, and then licked her lips. “He’s drop-dead delicious.”
    “He’s okay.” My eyes flicked up to Mr. Powell. The marker was screeching on the whiteboard as he wrote the names of people I didn’t recognize. Wait, Reagan! Ha. One I knew! She was totally from King Lear!
    Kira giggled next to me. “Sure, Tess. He’s only okay.” She grabbed her purple pom-pom pen and jotted down something from the board. “You are whipped cream,” she mumbled.
    When class mercifully ended, I pushed back in my chair and dropped the ridiculously oversized book into my backpack. As I looked down at the speckled linoleum floor, I noticed a Birkenstocked pair of sandals pause and turn to me.
    I glanced up the length of the body until I was staring into the face of the new guy, standing there in corduroys and a long-sleeve tee, grinning at me.
    Straightening my posture, I pulled my eyebrows together.
    “Hi,” I said. Wow, he was even better looking up close.
    “You’re Tessa Crimson, right?” His voice was soft. I relaxed slightly.
    “Um, yeah.” I slipped into polite mode. I was cheer director for a reason. “Tessa Crimson. Hi.”
    “I’m Christian. Christian Ferril.” He outstretched his hand.
    I took it without thinking, but when his cool palm touched mine, I felt my heart rate speed up. He was squeezing me just a little too tightly.
    “Nice to meet you,” I said as calmly as possible. Where in the world had Kira disappeared? Discreetly, I tried to jet my eyes around the emptying classroom for her. She was gone. Great—it was her fault that I’d looked at him.
    “How did you—”
    “Know your name?” he finished for me, laughing softly.
    I wasn’t sure why, but this hot surfer made me uneasy. Like he was in on a joke that I hadn’t heard the punch line for yet. I slipped into SOS mode, trying to seek out his ulterior motive, but then stopped. I had to remind myself that I was in school and not on a mission.
    “Mr. Powell,” he said, tilting his head toward the