by Lila Rose
It was not happening. So, ignoring his call, I tapped Gerry on the arm, and said, “Congrats on your, um, award, trophy, thingy, Gerry. Top notch, young boy. Brilliant job.” Shit. I needed to get out of there. I patted Gerry’s arm once again and then made my getaway back to Brooke.
Facing the audience, while they listened to Tom and then Carter talk again, I whispered out the corner of my mouth, “Did I look like a total idiot that whole time?”
“Sure did.”
“Thanks. I thought I had. Can you please bury me this afternoon?”
“Can do. I’ll even bring wine and say something nice after you’re in the ground.”
“You’re sweet.”
“It’s what best friends are for.”
Chapter Two
Reagan
Of course, things couldn’t get better for me. Leaning my butt against my desk while discussing my freshman class’s assignment, I then cringed when I heard Wesley blow his nose for the millionth time. He sounded like a damn trumpet. What made matters worse—if him bringing his germs to school wasn’t enough—was when he pulled the tissue back and then studied his mucus. Everyone knew how gross Wesley was; he didn’t hide it, and more power to him for being who he wanted to be… just not when it churned my stomach.
Slamming my copy of To Kill A Mockingbird down, I then pointed to Wesley. “If you look at your snot one more time, I just may vomit all over you.”
Students started chuckling; they were used to my outbursts. Wesley, the little shit, lifted the tissue up with a cheeky grin on his pimply face.
“Don’t do it,” I warned, straightening.
“Miss,” someone called.
I was too busy holding my glare on Wesley to answer. He slowly parted the folded tissue.
“I swear, my bile is rising, and it’s coming for you, kid.”
“Miss,” was snapped a bit harsher. It was Jenifer, a grade-A student who sat in the front row closest to the door.
Closing my eyes, I dropped my head and sighed. “Someone’s opened the door, right?”
“Yes.” She giggled.
God, please do not let it be Tom. He was already upset with me enough. If he caught me threatening to vomit on a student, he’d be more than pissed.
“Is it the principal?” I asked, lifting my head and opening my eyes. Still, I didn’t glance at the doorway until I knew if I had to make a run for it or not.
“No,” Jenifer said in a swoony voice.
Finally smiling, I relaxed my stance and faced the door… then froze, but not before my smile dropped.
Shit.
Double shit.
It was Carter Anthony.
He was leaning against the doorframe with yet another smirk on his face.
I think I’d rather have Tom there instead.
“Ah… can I help you?”
Had he stumbled into the wrong room? Had he taken too many hits to the head and was lost?
Get out, get out, get out.
And suddenly I felt like yelling, “Get off my train,” like the spirit in the movie Ghost. I clamped my mouth closed in case I did. My students would know what movie I was referencing since I made them watch it, under the guise of its relevance to understanding one of our previous topics of crafting ghost stories, but I wasn’t sure Carter would know. He didn’t seem like the movie watching type.
What was he doing in my classroom?
He straightened and stepped further in. His lips twitched when I widened my eyes at his approach. “You may have missed the extra information the principal gave this morning. I’ve been going to selected classrooms to visit to see if anyone has any questions for me.”
I caught sight of Wesley opening his mouth. When I shot him a murderous glare, he snapped his lips shut. Reminder to self: Next time Wesley makes you want to vomit, pull out the deadly glare.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “We’re good in here.” Did that sound rude? “Thank you, though,” I added quickly. Do not blush.
He chuckled, and I wanted to throw something at his head, because his damn chuckle did things to my stomach. Nice things.
Never. I would never fall for his charms, his good looks, or how he’s grown into his tall frame and huge body nicely. Even his sparkling eyes and sweet lips.
I was a grown woman. I had control of myself.
“Then if no one has any questions, do you mind if I stay for a while? I’d like to watch. I’ve never heard of a lesson from a teacher where they threatened vomiting before.”
Damn. He’d heard that.
Laughing nervously, I shook my head. “Did I say vomit? I meant….” I had nothing. Why was my brain failing me now? Throwing my hands on my hips, I glared at Carter. “Anyway, we were in the middle of something, and I’d really prefer it if my class isn’t interrupted.”
“But, Miss, you interrupted class just the other day when your mom called,” Bradly yelled.
My eyes widened. “Now isn’t the time for lies, Bradly.”
“But—”
“Bradly!”
My little defiant minions laughed. Carter chuckled.
Clearing my throat, I mentioned, “I’m sure Mr. Rogers, the phys ed teacher, would love to have you visit his class.”
“I have a feeling you’re trying to get rid of me.” Carter grinned, and his head tilted to the side. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“No!” I snorted, scoffed, and then burped. “Excuse me.” I laughed. “And then there’s also the FACS class. Something tasty will be cooking right about now. You should go for a taste.”
Elena would also love it.
He shook his head. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I’ll be fine here.”
Dang it all.
“Fine,” I bit out through clenched teeth. Ignoring him, though I sensed his movement to behind my desk to sit in my seat, I turned my attention back to the class. Wesley raised his hand. “Yes, Wesley?”
“I’d like to ask Mr. Anthony what it’s like being famous.”
Guess my death glare wore off on the shithead.
Clenching my jaw, I breathed deeply through my nose. “Does anyone else have questions they’d like to ask Mr. Anthony?” Half my students raised their hands. The other half were just staring at Carter like he was their favorite chew toy.
Rubbing an eye, since it started to twitch, I shifted to the side of my desk and glanced at Carter.
“Well?” I said.
“Oh, you want me to answer them?”
“Yes,” I clipped.
“But I thought you didn’t like—”
“Please, just answer them,” I snapped.
Laughing, he stood and looked at Wesley. “Honestly, being famous can be a pain sometimes. No matter where I go, I have to watch what I say or do because it could end up in the media.”
“But you get to bang all the chicks you want,” Bradly called out.
One hand went to cover my chest—I didn’t want to flash my bra—as the other shot out and up. “Bradly, the only banging we’ll talk about in this class is me banging your head on your desk.” Again, Carter chuckled—shit—and my students laughed. I winced, knowing I could be in serious doo-doo if he told anyone how sarcasm and regular threats were part of my teaching practice, but I lived dangerously. Plus, the class knew I was all talk. I would never lay a finger on them. That didn’t mean I couldn’t joke around. It made the day fun. More importantly, it strengthened our classroom relationship, and they knew when they had to get crack-a-lacking with work. I was lucky to teach such amazing kids.
Before the questioning continued, I added, “If anyone else says or asks something ridiculous like that again, I’ll do something really drastic.”
They quieted.
Carter pointed at Josiah.
“Do you ever get stressed being the quarterback?” Josiah asked.
“Actually, yes.” Carter nodded. “Though, I’m sure it happens for any player really. We’re a team. It’s not just about me.”
“What do you do after a loss?” Stacy called out.
Shifting my gaze to Carter, I caught his small smile. “What I prefer to do is go home, watch a movie with a pizza and beer.”
Say what?
That sounded… so not like him. I’d heard he was one hell of a party animal. A real Casanova with women too.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Ariel asked, and for some reason, all my kids’ eyes swiveled to me quickly and then back again.
What was up with that?
Carter chuckled. “No. I don’t.”
“Miss doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Wesley called out. That kid was just asking for a nose punch.
“I do!” I yelled.
“What’s his name?” Ariel questioned.
Did I say I loved my students?
I was so taking that love back.
“Ah, James?” I said slowly. And dang it for making it sound like a question.
A few of the guys snorted, some of the girls rolled their eyes, and Carter stood, walked around the desk, and leaned his perfect ass against the edge. A smirk played at his lips. I wanted to pinch his cheeks together so he’d quit doing that.
“What’s his last name?” Michael called.
Shit. A last name?
“Blunt?” I drew out.
“So you’re saying your boyfriend’s name is James Blunt, like that old singer guy?” Jenifer said.
Fuck.
I didn’t expect anyone to know him. Evil geniuses.
I threw a hand out aimlessly and shot off a nervous laugh. “Yes. Just a coincidence.” Clearing my throat, I added, “But we’re getting off track. Mr. Anthony is here to answer questions, not me.”
There was a knock at the door, thank God. We all turned toward it as it opened. Elena peeked her head in, scanned for a quick second before her eyes landed on her next victim. I mean Carter. Carter Anthony who used to date Elena. They had a history. One that could reignite as soon as she got her claws in him.
Did I care?
Nope, not at all.
I didn’t.
Anyway, why would I care when I was just trying to get him to leave my room in the first place?
I narrowed my gaze as she smiled sweetly at Carter. It was a habit of mine whenever she was near. A narrowed gaze, a fisted hand, and a thought to throat punch her. Just the usual. After all, she had made my teen years hell, so of course, I had a vendetta against her.
Her past words rushed through my mind.
“Ooh, look it’s fat-ass Reagan.
God, Reagan, you’re going to break that poor chair with your weight.
Reagan, you stink. Did you wash between your flab?
Reagan, why don’t you eat from the floor like all animals do?
I wish I didn’t have to deal with such a pig in class all the time.”
Laughing and mocking had always accompanied her cruel words from the people around us.
She stepped into the room, and said, “Here you are. Mr. Gallegan said you were still here.” She curled her hands around his arm, leaning into him. “Why don’t we head to my class?”
“But he only just got here,” Wesley called.
Elena smiled up at Carter before looking at Wesley and glared. “Mr. Anthony has an important schedule, so I’m sure he needs to move on anyway.”
“I was only supposed to visit the phys ed, math, and English class. I don’t have time for any more,” Carter explained.
I wanted to high-five him.
Elena giggled. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t mind cutting this one short to come talk to my class.” Her evil gaze landed on me. “Miss Wild, I didn’t see you there. You don’t mind if I steal him away?”
It was times like this I liked that I’d grown into my lady balls.
“Actually, Miss Roup.” I smiled. “Mr. Anthony and my class were just in the middle of something. Maybe next time he visits you could have him in your class.”
If looks could kill, I would be buried six-feet under.
The room was so damn silent, I was sure the students were holding their breaths. I also didn’t miss the way Carter glanced at me with his lips tilted at the corners.
“Right. Of course. Sorry for interrupting.” She was all sunshine because Carter was around. If it were just us and we weren’t in the classroom, she’d be slitting my throat. The way her eyes burned told me she was at least picturing it. She laughed, and I saw her hands tighten on his arm. “Hopefully I’ll get to see you before you have to leave, Carter,” she purred his name, and then turned, swaying her hips to the door. Only the person she was doing it for wasn’t looking her way. His eyes were on the floor, and he was biting his bottom lip. His reaction could be because I happened to cough out quietly “Slut” as she left.
When she glanced back and noticed Carter wasn’t watching, she clenched her jaw, then stomped the rest of the way and closed the door quickly.
Only it came back open, and the bitch called out, “Oh, Carter.” Carter looked her way. “I’m sure you remember Miss Wild from high school, right?” My body locked tight, even my butt cheeks. “Or maybe not since she is forgettable.” She smiled, backed out, and closed the door once more.
I wanted to hide.
Crawl under my desk and hide.
Of course Carter wouldn’t remember me because Elena was right about that. I had been forgettable. I’d been the large girl, the one who got picked on, and I was also the one who had no friends.
But I had lady balls, I reminded myself. So even with my whole body flushing, I faced my muttering students who were glaring toward the door, and paused. They were loyal to a fault. I wondered briefly if I could give them extra credit for being able to deduce who the bitch in the room had been. Then, ignoring the man to the side of me, I said, “And that class, is what you call an awkward situation. Also, it goes to show flirting doesn’t always get you what you want.”
Nobody ever said I was exactly appropriate with my classes, but honestly, I think my students were better off with real, tough, and brutal life situations at times.
I preened a little when I heard some of my students talk about how they didn’t like Elena as a teacher. How she bitched and moaned about other teachers in the school. And as much as I’d have loved to join in, I couldn’t sink to her level and smack talk her. I never would.
In not responding to her bullshit spectacle, I hoped it showed my class it was okay to stand up for yourself in a situation where you weren’t happy with what was going on. Elena wasn’t better than me. Besides, it was obvious Carter didn’t want to go to a cooking class.
What was also important was to move on from an awkward situation, like the man at my side finding out we used to go to school together and him not remembering me, and move on from it.
My students laughed at my comment. I grinned back and then shifted from one foot to another. Carter was too quiet, and I didn't like it.
I clapped my hands. “All right, class, since Mr. Anthony’s time is short, why don’t you finish the questions you have, and while you do it, I’ll just finish grading these papers?”
Moving around my desk, I took my seat and realized Carter’s butt was sitting on the papers I needed to grade. Great.
Instead of asking him to move, and also so I didn’t have to speak to him, I quietly slid out my phone and fired a text off to Brooke while the class went back to questioning Carter.
Me: Drinks tonight. Thank God it’s Friday.
My phone vibrated.
Brooke: Why, what happened besides the looney act at assembly?
Me: Carter Anthony IS IN MY CLASSROOM.
Brooke: BAHAHAHAHA. Enjoy, and hell yes to drinks. I want to know what else you’ve done.
Chapter Three
Carter
When I’d overheard Reagan’s conversation on stage, I’d grinned my ass off. At the time, I hadn’t understood why she’d indicated Elena wanted me. It was as if Reagan knew the teen me was a douche and had dated the bitch of the century. But I’d had no id
ea how she’d known, or even if she had known my history with Elena, the girl who’d happily put out. Needless to say, I’d been confused as hell.
And that all happened before I touched her ass.
I still couldn’t believe I’d done it, but when her friend didn’t help her out, I saw it as my duty to lend a helping hand.
From the first moment I’d heard her as I stood behind that curtain, I was captivated.
She made me laugh with her wit.
She charmed me with her actions.
She intrigued me with her attitude.
I wanted to know all about Reagan Wild.
While she’d seemed familiar, I sucked at placing the puzzle pieces together. It wasn’t until Elena mentioned Reagan had gone to school with us that it all clicked into place, and hell if I was dumbstruck for a moment.
Back in high school days, I hadn’t known her name, but I’d seen her around. When I had, I took notice. I just didn’t let anyone know I was ogling her. Why? Because back then, I was the biggest douche out there. Reagan was different to the version of the girl people expected me to be with, and back then, I’d been too concerned with what everyone thought.
Foolishly, I’d ended up with Elena. She’d been picture-perfect in looks, but some of the things that came out of her mouth, I’d wanted to slap her for. Obviously, I didn’t hit women. Ever. Instead, I’d pretended my life, the two years with her, were awesome, despite being interested in a girl who I hadn’t known much about.
At least I’d grown up since then.
Only Reagan didn’t know it and probably thought I was still an arrogant, shallow prick.
The memory of the day still stung, the one when I realized that was exactly what the girl I’d crushed on thought of me.
“What about that one?” Mark pointed to a girl a few desks over in the library. She was short, blonde, and curvy.
Henry snorted. “Yeah, and I’d have to roll her in flour to find the wet spot. No way.” My three friends chuckled while I wanted to punch the dick in the face for the comment. Still, my smile stayed firm because I was a fake dickhead who cared what they thought about me.
