Covet (Crave, #3)

by Tracy Wolff

Not only do we have the teacher from hell, but somehow I’m part of the most screwed-up testosterone-filled quadrangle—rectangle—square?—in history.

“I need a new group,” I say to no one in particular. “I’ll be in your group,” Flint volunteers. “You’re already in my group,” I tell him through gritted teeth. “That’s kind of the point of a new group.”