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I'M BEYOND NERVOUS for how this might go down

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I'M BEYOND NERVOUS for how this might go down.

For one, if anyone—and I mean, anyone—finds out about our ruse, it's over. We'd both be done for.

I shudder at the thought. Lila said she would meet me in the parking lot, and just as promised, she exits the front doors and begins to walk in my direction. The crowd of students have dissipated by now.

I told Lila to meet a bit later so that people wouldn't see us until we actually made a public scene. She agreed and it almost shocked me.

But I had been completely shocked when she gave her request—more shocked than when she had punched me. Which should say something considering I still have a faint bruise. Matthews' got a mean right hook.

I'm leaning against my car when Lila catches up and says, "Are you rich? Because your car is pretty rich."

I raise a brow at her, she's always asking questions. "How can a car be rich?"

She rolls her big, brown eyes at me. "You know what I mean, smart-ass. And didn't I tell you? No one likes a smart-ass."

I scoff. "Says the girl who begged me to be her fake boyfriend."

She narrows her eyes as I open the passenger door for her, "I did not beg."

I shut the door in her face, and round the car to the drivers' seat, casting her a look as I settle in. "You practically begged."

"Yeah, well, you practically begged me to tutor you," she counters as I put the car into drive and vanish out of the parking lot.

"So? A lot of girls would kill for a guy who cares about their education—you say it like it's a bad thing," I say with a smirk, and she glowers.

"Smart-ass."

"Kill-joy."

She rolls her eyes again—something she does a lot around me, I've realized. Or, no. Something she does a lot period.

The drive to her house is pretty silent up until I catch sight of those purple fences of hers. I was tempted to ask about them last time—but it was hard when she was probably seeing two of me.

"Out of all the colors—why purple?" I say, once we've reached her driveway. I look to her to find her eyes on me. She quickly looks away and shrugs.

"I asked my mom the same thing," she mumbles, unbuckling her seatbelt and grabbing her bag. "Come on."

I slide out of my seat and follow her to the door. She quickly unlocks it and in no time we're inside the house the Lila Matthews lives in.

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