Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
It’s time to go check on the students and walk them to class. I won’t do this every day, but I want to make sure they know where they’re headed, and I want to confirm they make it to the classroom on time.
Outside my door, Noah’s waiting for me.
He looks up as I step out of my room and his eyes pinball over every inch of me, taking in my dress, my lipstick, my bare legs.
I know he won’t keep his lips zipped.
“A little much for a Monday, no?”
Ah, there it is.
“When in Rome…”
I carefully lock up my room and drop my key in my crossbody purse. I skipped the moneybag today so it wouldn’t clash with my outfit. I’m trying to look my best for Lorenzo.
“You forgot your pants.”
“Ha ha ha. Noah, you’re so funny. I don’t tell you that enough. You’re such a funny guy.”
His eyebrows furrow into one disapproving line.
“So you’re going through with this?”
I act like I haven’t the faintest clue what he’s referring to. I start to walk down the hall and he follows after me, a beat behind. I don’t need eyes on the back of my head to know his attention is on my legs. They’re great legs. Distracting legs. Eat your heart out legs.
“Lorenzo is a little old for you,” he says from behind me. Apparently, he’s in no hurry to catch up.
“I happen to prefer older men,” I toss back. “They’re so mature. They know what they want. They have…experience.”
I wiggle my fingers, making jazz hands to ensure he catches my meaning.
In truth, I haven’t put much thought toward older guys, but this lie serves me well. Noah is my same age. Our birthdays are only a day apart, in fact. Two years ago, someone at work had the bright idea to combine our birthday celebrations because they thought it would be cute (read: cheap). Noah and I had to sit side by side in the teachers’ lounge while a motley crew of Lindale staff sang “Happy Birthday” off-key. We only had the one supermarket sheet cake spaced equidistant between us. We were meant to lean forward and blow out the candles together.
“I’ll tell you my wish if you tell me yours,” Noah whispered as they sang to us.
It was just like Noah to try to sabotage my birthday magic.
“Nice try, but everyone knows you can’t share your wish or it won’t come true,” I whispered back.
“At least tell me if I’m the subject of it.”
I scoffed, adjusting the tight elastic of the party hat eating into my chin. “You think I’d waste my birthday wish on you?”
Of course he was the subject of my wish, which was sweet and charming and consisted of a cartoon anvil dropping from the ceiling right onto his head.
“You’re in my wish,” he admitted like a diabolical mastermind.
Then he leaned forward before they finished singing and, in one fell swoop, extinguished every single candle on the cake.
Since I’m still alive, I can only assume his wish never came true.
“How much older are we talking?” Noah asks me now. “I saw an old man walking his dog this morning. Could barely shuffle along. I’ll bet he’ll be out there tomorrow if you want me to get his number for you.”
I clasp my hands together with glee. “Oh, would you? Please?”
When we reach the student dorms, we call them out into the hall for a military-style roll call.
When we come up one short, my heart lurches in my chest. Then Brandon waves his thumb lazily toward the bathroom.
“Oh, Zach’s still in the shitter.”
“Ew!” The girls gag and squeal.
My expression is unamused. “Language.”
He only shrugs.
Zach emerges from the bathroom not the least bit bashful that we all know what he was just doing. I make sure he’s washed his hands and then we lead the kids to their classroom where a white-haired woman with bright red glasses stands waiting for us.
“Welcome, students! Welcome! I’m Mrs. Zahra. Come take your assigned seats so we can begin.”
The Trinity students have already arrived, and like the cool kids they are, they’ve claimed all the seats in the back of the classroom. Our students shuffle in and begrudgingly take the spots up front.
“Now you both shoo,” the teacher tells Noah and me. “I’ll keep the students here until their lunch break, and I’ll walk them down to the dining hall myself.”
Before we can protest, she closes the door in our face.
Chapter Seven
I expect Noah to split off as soon as we leave the kids. Our chaperone duties are done for the morning so he should be running for the hills, but he’s my shadow all the way to the courtyard. Every time the hallway branches, I hold my breath and wait for him to go in the opposite direction, but he doesn’t.
I look over at him, annoyed, and he acts completely oblivious.