The Backup Girlfriend (Grove Valley High #2) - Emma Doherty Page 0,92

away. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want your money. I shouldn’t have let you keep paying me.”

What? “Is this because of what my dad said about paying you?”

He presses his lips together, and I know it is.

“God, don’t listen to him. A deal’s a deal—you just said that yourself.”

“Abigail,” he says softly. “You’re my friend.” The confirmation that he sees me as that and not just the girl he tutors make my heart soar. “I should have stopped letting you pay me weeks ago.”

“Brett, I know how much your savings mean to you, how hard you work for your money.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’re going to graduate and I’m going to tutor you because I want to, not because of anything else. You don’t owe me anything, not a single thing.”

Is he just talking about money, or is he talking about his date with Sasha too?

“You don’t have to.

“I want to.” He tilts his head. “And I meant what I said to your dad. I really do think you’ll get the grades to pass. You’re going to graduate with us.”

“You really think so?”

“I really do.”

Him thinking that means more to me than he’ll ever know.

“Come back to my place after school. We can hang out, study…” He smirks. “My mom will be cooking, just saying…”

I can’t help the smile on my face at that and the thought of seeing his sweet, laid-back, interesting mom again.

“You sure she wouldn’t mind having me there?”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother to answer the question.

“I’ll see you after school, Baker.”

He turns to walk away but then stops himself, turning back to face me.

“I threw your dad’s business card in the garbage, by the way.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop me.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with someone who is capable of speaking to you like that.”

I feel emotional. He’s backing me up. He’s choosing me over my dad and the doors he could open for him.

“I’ll see you later.”

Then he strolls past me just as the bell for homeroom rings out, and just like that, my day has switched around and I’m smiling.

Brett has given me something to look forward to, which I’m pretty sure was his intention.

29

My brain hurts.

All I’ve done for the past week, since the whole disaster Brett saw at my house, is study, study, study. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t think anything is getting through anymore. I’ve been staring at the equations in front of me for the last five minutes, but the numbers are just swimming in front of my eyes and I can barely focus.

“Okay, you’ve had enough.”

I look over at Brett distractedly. “Sorry, I just need a second. I’m good.”

He shakes his head as he reaches over and closes my textbook. “No, you’re done.”

I let out a long sigh, sitting back. I am done. I am so, so over this. “I can’t be done—I only have two days.”

He watches me for a second, seemingly thinking something over in his mind. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Until tomorrow?”

“No, until the tests. You’re not going to take in anything new anymore.”

I stare back at him. “No, no way. I don’t know even close to enough.”

“Yeah, you do. You just have to have faith in yourself.”

“I’m not going to not study tomorrow, Brett.”

“Just reviewing, nothing new. Not at this point.”

That’s a scary thought, that right now I know everything I’m going to know and might not get any further, that everything I know currently is going to have to be enough to pull me through and make the difference.

The thought is damn near terrifying.

“Let’s get out of here.”

My eyes snap to his.

“You’re done for the day. You’re tired. Let’s get out of here and try to take your mind off it.”

If only Brett knew he’d be very capable of taking my mind off these tests, just not in the way he’s imagining.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He sends me a smile. “Come on, let me help you chill.”

I stare at him for a second before my eyes go to my notebook, page after page of equations, weeks and weeks of studying.

He’s probably right.

I probably can’t get anything else in my brain, at least not tonight.

“Where do you want to go?”

He shrugs. “Who cares?”

He’s right about that—who actually cares? I know I don’t. All I want to do is get the hell out of this library and switch my brain off, and if Brett’s offering to help me do that,