Fake Dating My Ex's Hockey Star Brother (Maya Scott) novel Chapter 12

KATY’S POV

“What?” I nudge him with my elbow, trying to hide the grin tugging at my lips.

He shakes his head like he’s figured me out and, without another word, flips open his textbook. For a second, I blink at him, thrown off by how easily he shifts gears. His eyes skim the page, and his voice is low but clear as he starts reading exactly where I asked him to.

I’m caught staring. I know I shouldn’t be that surprised he can read, but for someone who acts like studying is a punishment, he goes through the entire line and page without stumbling. When he finally finishes, he slides higher up the bed and rests his head against the wooden frame, waiting for me to say something.

“That…that was good.” I admit.

He lifts an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I could read, did you?”

My eyes widen. “Hey! I didn’t say that.”

“But you thought it.” He responds, tilting his head like he knows exactly what’s going on in my head.

press my hand over my mouth to hide the smirk creeping in, and when I finally manage to stop smiling, I push us back on track.

The minutes slip by faster than I expect. What starts with me prompting him to read a single line turns into him actually paying attention, asking questions, jotting things down, and even challenging me on examples. By the time I glance at the clock, nearly an hour has passed and we’ve covered five marketing theories.

“Honestly, this is way easier than Mrs. Anderson explained,” he says, snapping his book shut and stretching his arms over his head. “She makes it sound so complicated in class.”

“It’s always been easy, and she did a good job,” I reply, stacking my notes together. “You were probably texting during class. Plus, studying makes everything easier.”

He groans and pushes up to face me. “Studying sucks. I’d rather play hockey and fuc… you know, engage in immoral acts with a female.”

“Are you mocking me?”

His lips twitch. “Am I?”

I shake my head with a sigh. He’s definitely smart, way smarter than he pretends to be, but he just hates putting in the effort. If he actually studied, he’d pull off amazing grades. Meanwhile, me? I’m only good at grades.

The thought makes me restless, so before I can stop myself, the words slip out. “I know it’s a stupid question, but how do you even know you’re good at…” My voice trails off, and my eyes finish the question by landing down there. “At that. Do the girls leave reviews or something?”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify