When he grins at Miss Cannon, I glance at Cora. As much as she jokingly encouraged me to pursue Ace, I think she’d have an aneurysm if any of us even looked at Xander romantically. Ever since he beat her out for student body president, she’s been seething with contempt for him.

“Sorry, Miss Cannon, do you have a minute?” Xander asks, leaning against the doorway.

She furrows her brows but nods. “Class, continue to discuss. I’ll be right back.”

“I wonder what that’s about,” Nandini says, turning toward us as the door closes behind them. “Do you think it has to do with Ace?”

As if her words are a trigger, the front door slams open, and a different figure enters. It’s obviously Ace, but there’s a hood over his head, so I barely catch a glimpse of his expression as he stalks toward his desk, snags my study guide with ringed fingers, and walks back out.

The class immediately bursts into confused clamor.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, staring after him. “Did Miss Cannon mention I left something for him? Do you think she knows he ditched our study session yesterday?”

Nandini looks as bemused as I feel. “Maybe?”

Cora is stretching her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of them through the back door’s window. “I bet his asshole brother has something to do with it.”

“Not everything is Xander’s fault,” Nandini says, nudging her.

Cora harrumphs, her eyes narrowed at the door.

When it opens again, we all watch with bated breath, but only Miss Cannon steps through.

She gives the entire class a pointed look. “I trust you all had a productive discussion in my absence.”

Everyone mutters an affirmative, but I doubt anyone discussed anything aside from Ace and Xander.

When class finally ends, Miss Cannon calls me over. I walk slowly to her desk, ignoring the too-fast beat of my heart as I try to anticipate how the conversation will play out.

“How did it go yesterday?” she asks with a bright grin, and my brain short-circuits.

She doesn’t know.

For a moment, I consider telling the truth. Then I imagine her face wiped clean of joy and abandon that idea. My anxiety demands I refrain from disappointing Miss Cannon. She has enough on her plate, with over a hundred students to monitor each day.

“It’s a work in progress,” I say, which is the truth. He did take the study guide. “I haven’t quite gotten a feel for the situation yet. I have high hopes, though.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” Miss Cannon releases a low sigh. “You’re an angel, Karina. Thank you so much for doing this.”

“It’s no big deal,” I say, waving a hand. “I’ll keep you updated.”

On my way out, I falter at the sight of a packet of papers in the recycling bin outside the classroom.

No way.