Masqueraded Identities

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I groaned as I flopped onto my bed. Monday was over. And so was the first batch of exams.

My brain hurt, and if I had to see any more of those stupid little sheets where you bubble in the answers, I was going to scream. My hand hurt from writing essays within thirty minutes, and well, I just hated tests. I wasn't too worried about the final score. I was one of those rare cases where no matter how hard I studied, it didn't do a thing. I always either got a good grade or bad grade, regardless of how much I studied.

Tay came in after me, and sighed loudly.

“Yes?” I asked, my voice muffled by the pillow my face was enveloped by.

“I hate testing,” she said dramatically, flopping onto her bed, as well. We were so alike.

“Me, too!” I replied, turning over to look at her.

“Run into Ryan today?” she asked, sitting up and reaching in her nightstand drawer.

My heart jumped at just the sound of his name. I had thought of him all day. We hadn't had a chance to talk at all, but I had seen him cast a few furtive glances at me in the hallway. Most were filled with contempt because he saw Mark trying to talk to me and what not.

“Nah. He looked at me a few times,” I said nonchalantly. It was the truth, after all.

She nodded, taking out a piece of gum. She held the pack at me, and I nodded. She threw a piece at me, and said, “I'm excited for Wednesday!”

She was excited for the news I had shared about Ryan and Wednesday night. I was horrified.

“I'm not,” I said with a smirk.

“What?! Why?!” she asked with disbelief.

“Because. Who says I'm the one he's going to confess his feelings, too?”

“I do!” she declared.

I snorted. “That solves everything.”

“You have such a small amount of faith, Pheebs. Just wait. I bet I'm right.”

I shrugged.

I sure as hell hoped she was.

Tay and I were walking to the caf for dinner when I ran into Ryan. Literally.

We ran head on, and his papers and notebooks went flying. It reminded me exactly of the situation that happened a few months ago. Talk about deja vu.

“You enjoy running into me, don't you?” I teased, bending down to help him pick up his papers.

“It's fun to make you get on your knees for me,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

My jaw dropped. I tried to fake being mad, but I couldn't. It was too damn funny. So I burst out laughing instead.

“Clever,” I commented after catching my breath. I was making a stack of papers look neat when I noticed fancy cursive letters. They looked perfect. Almost like those from my masked stranger. My heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Stop it, Phoebe. You're getting hopeful for no reason.

“Nice handwriting,” I commented, seeing what he would say in response to it.

He gave me a confused look that turned into horrified realization. He snatched the papers from my hands and said, “Uh. Thanks. I took an art class and they taught us how to do cool lettering.”