Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The door closes with a soft click and Wes gives me a sad smile.
“Are you okay?”
Tears well in my eyes and I blink several times to make them go away. “Yep.”
“I’m not blind, Roux,” he says, sitting in his desk chair and rolling it over to me. “Is it your friend? I couldn’t help but notice you staring at her the whole hour.”
A tear leaks out and I swipe at it. “I’m just worried about her.”
“I’ll talk to her about retaking her test,” he says. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”
“It’s not an off day, though,” I whisper, hating that I’m about to unload my woes to my teacher. “Ever since she started dating this guy, she’s not been herself. He’s toxic.” My chin wobbles. “I miss my best friend.”
He reaches forward and gives my thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I’m sure it’s just a phase.” His smile is gentle. “She’ll need you whenever she gets past that phase.”
Wes removes his hand from my leg but remains so near I can feel his body heat. The close proximity makes me slightly uncomfortable. I know he’s just being nice, though. I’m making more out of it than it really is.
“Ready to take the test?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
His eyes lock on mine as he asks the first question. My cheeks heat at his intense attention on me. All of my answers come out breathless and shaky. Rather than being annoyed with me or making fun of me, he simply smiles. Playfully nudges me with his knee when I stammer.
“Relax, Roux,” he says. “You’re done.”
A rush of air escapes me. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He grins wide and boyish. “You aced it.”
“Really?” I don’t ace tests. I usually barely skim by with Cs. “No way.”
He laughs. “Yes way. I’m so proud of you.”
His praise means a lot and I can’t help but smile back. Roan is going to be so happy when I tell him.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “You have no idea how good it feels to actually make an A on something.”
“Some students just need a different approach,” he affirms. “We’ve found yours. Don’t worry. I’m on your side. You’ll get through my class with an A.”
I glance at the clock. I’d told Hollis I’d be late after school since I was having to take my test. I’m to text him when I finish.
“I should get going.” I start to stand, and Wes rolls back in his chair. He seems nervous. “Are you okay?”
He rubs at the back of his neck, a shy smile playing at his lips. “This is going to sound stupid.”
“What?”
“You were probably just saying it to be nice, but I really do value your opinion on my poem book. I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to grab coffee after we leave here and look at it.” He barks out an anxious laugh. “You can say no. I know it’s weird. I’m your teacher.”
“No, I want to,” I rush out. “Let me just text my brother-in-law that I’ll catch a ride home.”
Wes grins. “I can run you by your place after.”
It’s a little awkward that my teacher and I are going out for coffee, but I try not to read too much into it. He’s not much older than Roan and Jordy, so it’s not like it’s gross or anything. And I’m not interested in him that way. Not that I think he’s even remotely attracted to me. It’s fine. Might be strange to others, but I really do want to read his poem book.
Wes rolls his chair back over to his desk and gathers up his things. I pack up my own stuff and pick up my flowers.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” he asks as he comes to stand beside me, car keys in hand. “The guy who was waiting for you last week?”
“Yeah, that’s my ex. We broke up, but he really wants to get back together.”
“Teenage boys are dumb,” he agrees. “I remember being that age. Not realizing something good when I had it in my grasp.”
His comment makes me squirm.
“I love these flowers, but I’m not taking him back.” I’m in love with someone else. “He’s persistent, though.”
“I can see why.” He flashes me a flirty grin.
I laugh away his comment and wonder if maybe I’m making a bad decision going to have coffee with Wes.
But what’s the alternative?
Go home and sulk because my best friend hates me? Cry into my pillow because Jordy won’t let me in?
It’s just coffee and poetry.
Wes and I walk to the staff parking lot. He drives a white Jeep. It’s the only car left in the lot at almost four in the afternoon on a Friday.
“The handle is funky,” he tells me, rushing ahead to open the passenger side door. “There you go.”
I blush furiously at his gentlemanly gesture. “Thanks.”