“Hey!” said Eliza cheerfully the next morning at breakfast. “Hey.” He gave her a short kiss on the lips. Her searching eyes studied him. “You okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. “Why?” “You just . . .” She hesitated. “…seem a little put off.” He shrugged. “Probably just nerves cause of finals.” Eliza nodded, still not fully convinced. “Speaking of which,” continued James, “Director Blakeney gave me the rest of the week off to study.” “Well, that was nice of him. I know I could use the help.” Apparently, she had decided to let the earlier topic go. “Consider me at your disposal then, your royal hotness.” She rolled her eyes and directed herself at Adonis. “So who are you taking to the dance, Adonis?” “Um . . .” he started, “I didn’t really have any takers.” “Are you kidding me? I could probably name at least twenty girls that would die to go with you,” Eliza pointed out. Tres began to mumble something that sounded like, “But none of them is James,” until Svetlana kicked his
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