How reassuring. I swallowed back a scream before making to walk past him, but he sidestepped to block my path.
“Here, let me—” He pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his hand before wiping at the stain on my shirt. From his angle, it quickly became very,veryobvious there was nothing substantial separating my skin from the threadbare top.
He could feeleverything.
My cheeks heated to the point of scalding, and his hand froze on my chest. I felt my heart thundering against my rib cage, which surely wasn’t healthy, and I smacked his hand away.
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.” I threw away any hope of containing the blush taking over my face as I brushed at the stain myself.
He stared at my chest a beat longer before snapping back to himself. “Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry, again. I’m an idiot.”
“It’s fine,” I said, voice strangled. When my attempts just made the stain spread more, I gave up. I tried to sidestep around him again, but he didn’t make any move to go away. “Don’t you have to pee?”
His eyes glanced down at my shirt and back before giving his head a shake. “Yeah! Yes, I do. I’ll go… do that now.”
I pinched the middle of my shirt, fanning it back and forth to try and air it out as I stumbled the last few steps into Slade’s room.
The whole class looked up from their tests, and my stomach dropped as Slade’s hawklike gaze landed on me from the teacher’s desk. He stared for a good five seconds before raising two fingers and beckoning me over with a sigh.
Letting go of my shirt, I tugged on the hem of my shorts to make them as decent as possible as my nerves went haywire. I shuffled over to Slade’s desk as my whole face surely turned the color of a stoplight. His expression didn’t betray any emotion as I approached.
“Sorry I’m late,” I whispered, not wanting to disturb the students already taking their tests. A quiet buzz of chatter grew in the room, and I held my chin higher as I fought back the urge to make sure my shorts were covering my butt. “But I’m ready for the midterm.”
Thankfully, Slade didn’t comment on my appearance. He shook his head and pulled a packet of papers from his stack before holding it out. “See that you are, Miss Fox. You have thirty minutes.”
A weight eased from my shoulders, allowing me to breathe again. He didn’t kick me out.
A few students were still looking my way when I turned around. They were probably waiting for more of a show. I spotted Noah halfway down the first aisle, and my legs felt like Jell-O as I walked toward the empty seat next to him. The snickers trailing behind me did nothing to abate my never-ending blush.
Noah’s gaze followed me the whole way as others lost interest, and I summoned all my remaining dignity as I lowered myself into the seat he’d saved for me. My pajama shorts rode up until every inch of my legs was on display, to my mortification. But I didn’t even try to fix it; instead I laid the midterm on my desk with the half-spilled cup of coffee and focused on keeping my breathing even.
Noah cleared his throat, and I looked over to see him taking in my disaster of an ensemble before meeting my gaze.
His eyes said everything.What the hell happened to you?
I smiled sheepishly before mouthing back.I’ll tell you later.
I felt his gaze burning into my side as I turned back to the midterm, but I had something more important to focus on than his curiosity.
The test was six pages long, front and back. There were fill-in-the-blank, multiple-choice, and short-answer sections, plus a page comprised of blank staffs to fill in.
And I had to complete all of it in thirty minutes.
Taking a deep breath, I realized I didn’t have my backpack—which meant I didn’t have my pens.
But I didn’t panic. I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a smile and sneaked a peek at Noah to find him focused on his test again.
I cleared my throat as quietly as possible, inching my bare foot toward Noah’s desk to get his attention. He looked over with a quirked brow, and my smile broke through.
“Can I borrow a pen?” I whispered.
One side of Noah’s lips lifted into a half smile as he selected one of the five sleek pens from his lineup. He leaned across the aisle, offering it to me.
“Thanks.” My fingers brushed against his as I took it, and the butterflies cooed appreciatively.
I tested my grip on the pen, comforted by its weight in my hand. And without any other obstacles, I took a swig from my coffee and flipped back to the first page of the midterm.
With a deep breath, I wrote my name at the top of the page.
