Page 63 of Pucking Bad Boys

“Surprise!” she beams. “Today we have the first pop quiz of the semester, and I hope you’re all decently prepared.”

A collective groan comes from everyone in the classroom. We didn’t expect a pop quiz this soon in the semester. This is one of the curveballs Cantucci has become known for.

We all listen intently, bracing ourselves for more bad news.

“The material we had to study for today’s test was mostly introductory chapters about Ancient Rome and its eras. From the most ancient times to the Republic era, to the Empire and then the decline and fall of the Western Empire brought about by the barbarians coming from the east and from the south.”

Ugh. A straight up history test. Fun times. History is interesting, but I always doubt myself when I’m asked about the dates of important events. I hope that isn’t what today’s test is about, or I might be in trouble.

“This first module touched on art as a source of knowledge in quite general terms. This is the basic knowledge you need to demonstrate, as we can’t navigate the history of art in those times if we don’t possess a decent grasp of the historical context of a civilization that spans almost a thousand years. After this, we’ll delve deeper into the art that defines each era, both from a technical point of view and as a source of historical knowledge. That’s going to be the most exciting part of our course, and we’ll also have our practical project.”

I’m starting to feel a little nervous, but I studied every moment I wasn’t in another class or skating or working out in the gym. I’ve got this.

Talia

“After you, baby.” Macklin brushes his lips over mine right before releasing my hand from his hold and stepping back to allow me to enter the second row of seats in the auditorium-style classroom.

I lower myself into a seat in the middle of the row with shaky legs. What does it say about me that it takes one light, barely there brush of his lips to light my whole body on fire?

It doesn’t help that this week has been hectic between work, rush week preparations, and classes. We didn’t get any chance to study together, and I feel guilty about it.

The best I could do was to pass Macklin all my notes, and I even shared with him the flashcards I made for Genevieve. They should help them retain the most important things that I think will be in today’s quiz.

Macklin thought I was worrying too much and that it was too soon for a pop quiz, but I knew better.

A part of me wondered if Gen was wrong about there being a test today, but it’s the first thing Professor Cantucci says when she arrives.

I wonder how Gen knew about it. It doesn’t look like everyone else knew, at least judging by the concerned whispers that echo in the classroom at the unwelcome announcement.

“Class,” the professor’s high pitch voice is sharp. “Settle down. We covered most of the stuff in today’s quiz during class. What I didn’t cover was in the chapters I assigned you to read by today. So there is no reason for anyone not to get an A. Now, before we start, a couple of things.”

The class reacts with another collective groan.

What else can Cantucci throw at us?

“Relax, guys.” The professor smiles, revealing a row of perfectly straight, bright white teeth. “All I was going to do is form the groups for our group project. And then at the end of the quiz, one person from each group will draw this year’s project from a hat. I was going to assign them myself, but Victor thought it would more fair to make it random. All I want to say is that the groups are final. There is no changing for no reason. I don’t care if you have to work with someone who spilled beer on you at a party or stole your boyfriend. College is supposed to prepare you for the professional world, and believe me when I tell you that you’ll have to work with people you don’t like on a daily basis.”

The professor’s words hit home hard. I know she’s right. Studying with Gen has definitely given me a taste of working with someone I don’t like.

Aside from her abrasive personality, the Zeta president’s work ethic leaves a lot to be desired.

Genevieve showed up half an hour late to both study sessions we booked based on the schedule she gave me.

Rather than making up for her tardiness with hard work, she was distracted. She spent both study sessions texting someone on her phone. And when I called her out on her lack of effort, she shrugged me off by saying that she was listening. “I’m paying as much attention as I can. These chapters are dryer than my cunt when someone under six feet tries to pick me up.”

Gross. I hate the c-word.

“It isn’t my fault if the material isn’t to your liking.”

Her response made me regret making that deal with her even more than I already had. “That might be true. But if you hadn’t stolen my boyfriend before Mack and I could make up, I wouldn’t have to put myself back out there. Dating someone new in your senior year is tough. I don’t recommend it.”

Hearing the professor call my name pulls me out of my frustrated memories. “The following students will be in group A: Talia Prescott, Macklin Shayba.”

Macklin squeezes my hand under the desk, his blue eyes bright and playful. “I don’t care about the pop quiz. Professor Cantucci is officially my favorite professor. Doing this project with you will be so much fun.”

Something in his tone tells me that he isn’t just talking about the topic the professor will assign to us.

A wave of warmth washes over me, but we’re in a crowded class, so there’s no appropriate way to channel my excitement. When Macklin lets go of my hand, I grieve the loss of contact with his warm, slightly rough fingers.