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Sophie and the Bad Teacher

Page 178

by Ivy Smoak

“I lost count.” He kicked a lone sneaker under his bed, as if that would help the mess.

I laughed and turned back to the pictures. Adonis really did seem to fit in wherever he went. “Do you have any pictures of your mom?”

Adonis didn’t respond.

I turned around to look at him.

He slowly shook his head. “No. Why?”

How could he not have any pictures of her? “I want to know where you got your good looks.”

Adonis smiled. “Well, she was a model.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

“Well, that explains everything.”

“Does it?”

I put my hands on his chest. “Yes. You’re beautiful. You must have gotten it from her.”

“Beautiful? No grown man wants to be described that way.”

I laughed. “Pretty?”

“Worse.”

“Hot?”

He smiled. “Better.”

“Do you ever think about finding her?”

He slowly shook his head. “Why would I want to find someone who doesn’t want to be a part of my life?”

I swallowed hard. I was pretty sure he was saying that as much for me as for him. Because of Mr. Halifax. But I had no desire to find him. And I guess that was Adonis’ point. I slowly nodded. “Agreed. And what about your dad?”

“What about him?”

“Do you have any pictures of him? I’m so curious.” I turned back around to look at the wall of pictures.

Adonis wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I know you like older men, Aphrodite, but...”

“Not because I want to check him out,” I said with a laugh. “I just want to see if you look like him.”

Adonis reached around me and pointed to a photo on the wall. Adonis was younger in it and his hair was a dark curly mess. He was in swim trunks and he looked adorably scrawny. I smiled. But my smile dropped when I saw the man standing to the side of the photo on his phone. He looked a lot like Adonis did now. Minus the scowl on his face. Adonis was always laughing and joking around. Everything about his father just seemed...harsh.

I didn’t know the man. But I had a feeling I wouldn’t like him. I put my arms on top of Adonis’ arms that were still wrapped around me, holding him close.

I kept staring at the picture of Mr. Ariti ignoring his son. He didn’t have green eyes. Adonis must have gotten them from his mother. But otherwise, Adonis and his father really did look similar. “Has he been to any of your games?” I asked.

“Nah,” Adonis said.

I tilted my head back against his chest to look up at him. “Why?”

“It would be hard for him to come.”