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“Language, Rexroth. Or you’re up next.”
I got ballsy. I had a back. It was Jaime. Who, by the way, looked just about ready to explode, staring down Vicious like he had just slaughtered a basket full of kittens. There was fire in his eyes, and it scorched everything it landed on. The bell rang, filling the class with laughter and noise, and people shoved their stuff into their backpacks.
“Mr. Linden, you’ll be reading your poem next time. Class, I want you to read The Rules of Poetry by Michaela Steinberg and know it by heart for next class. There’ll be a quiz,” I barked into the chaos of teenage chatter.
Students poured into the hallway, but Jaime stayed put in his chair. His clenched jaw suggested someone in the room was about to get killed. Vicious was the only one still there other than us, and he took his time, stuffing his bag deliberately slow with a grin so big you’d think I was about to escort him to an exotic vacation on an island populated by strippers and international arms dealers.
I dropped Vicious at Principal Followhill’s office and got back to class. I think she was both impressed and horrified with me calling Vicious on his bullshit. I had no idea how she was going to deal with him, but I didn’t care, either. I’d done my part.
The minute I walked back into my classroom, I heaved a sigh. “What did you do to those kids the other night?”
Jaime sprawled back in his chair. He was wearing navy Dickies, high-top sneakers, and a purple muscle shirt that showed off his corny tattoo of a stupid-ass quote he had inked on his ribs. I’d never bothered reading it, but wouldn’t be surprised if it was something from SpongeBob Squarepants.
Who cares? He was my own personal calorie-free dessert.
At least, that’s what I tried to reduce him to in my mind.
Most of the time it worked.
But the more we spent time together, the more I needed to feed myself this lie.
“Come here.” He crooked his index finger at me.
“Excuse me? I’m the teacher,” I teased, happy to have him alone.
“And I’m the pissed-off guy who needs to put you in your place every now and again. Here.” He patted his desktop and plopped back in this chair. I glanced at the closed door and back at him.
“Vicious could come back,” I argued.
“Vicious would keep his mouth shut even if he walked in on me fucking Mr. Pattinson while the PTA president licks my asshole. I can do anything with anyone as long as it’s not Millie. We’re goddamned near blood-brothers.”
Millie, huh? Maybe the bastard did have a beating heart after all.
I took slow steps to him and sat at the edge of his desk. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his groin so that I straddled him, my legs curling around his waist.
“What did you do to them?” I whispered again, my hands buried in his golden hair as my arms circled his neck. Despite everything, I cared about those kids.
“Baby…” He brushed his knuckles against my lips, his eyes focused solely on them.
“Well?” I deliberately widened my eyes, questioning him.
He laughed like he thought my expression was cute. “Nothing yet. But we got a name. Toby Rowland.”
“And?” Rowland was a junior, another douche who I taught. He was also Coach Rowland’s son.
Jaime shrugged. “Dude’s always hiding behind his daddy in practice. It’ll be hard to pin him down, but neither one’s getting away with what they did to Trent. Fuckers killed his ticket out.”
Trent Rexroth, All Saints’ stand-out football star, had slipped in the locker room before a big game this fall, breaking his ankle and ending his path to college and pro-football glory.
I opened my mouth, intending to convince him to give up the retaliation, but he grabbed me by my ass and pulled me into his aching erection, sucking hard on one of my breasts through the fabric of my blouse and finishing on a teasing bite.
“Shit…” I muttered.
“How was your weekend?” He placed his lips on my neck and licked his way to my cleavage. I shivered into his body. “Did you miss me?”
“It was good.” My hands ghosted over his broad chest greedily. “And no,” I lied. “I thought we agreed this was just harmless fun.”
“It is.” He tipped his head back, staring at me seriously. “And it’s fun being with you.”
“I bet it’s just as fun being with high school girls.” My mouth went dry when I said it.
It was stupid and insecure, but it felt good to finally say what I’d been thinking about for weeks. Where Jaime went, girls followed. Bronze-skinned, shiny-haired cheerleaders with wide smiles and legs for miles. They caught up with his long steps in the hallways, leaned against his SUV after school, and laughed at everything he said…even when he didn’t make jokes.
