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OD: We were young.
Slytherin4ever: So?
OD: So, I didn’t want to hold her back.
Slytherin4ever: Sounds like a cop-out to me.
Ouch. I don’t know what else I expected her to say, but her response still stings. Because it sounds like something Saylor would say. She was never afraid to call me out for shit. Apparently, she and Slytherin4ever have that in common.
OD: Call it what you want. I was a stupid kid who thought he was being selfless when all I wanted was to keep her for myself.
Slytherin4ever: I gotta get some sleep. Night, Owen.
My brows furrow as I read her message.
Night, Owen.
Not goodnight. Just night.
The words are eerily familiar.
It’s official. I’m going crazy. Because Slytherin4ever is starting to sound a hell of a lot like my ex. Or maybe I’m just imagining things.
7
Saylor
“Um, I’m sorry, but why is he here?” Skye challenges beside me as we both watch a very sexy Owen press the lock on his key fob in the teacher’s parking lot before grabbing Grady’s hand. The last weekend was spent grading papers and planning the new week while pretending the Birds and Bees app doesn’t exist. Unfortunately, it called to me like a damn siren every single minute of every single freaking day. But by some miracle, I stayed strong, and I plan on keeping it that way.
I tear my gaze away from Owen’s tight backside and dig into my purse, though I have no idea what I’m looking for. A distraction, maybe? A magical button that will delete the memories I have of him? A mythical eraser that can expunge our conversation from my stupid phone so that I stop analyzing the message he sent me before bed a few nights ago that I’ve read a thousand times?
Unfortunately, but not to my surprise, I come up empty and puff out my cheeks before looking up at Skye to reveal the truth. “He’s the new gym teacher.”
Skye’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry. I must’ve heard you wrong.”
“You definitely didn’t.”
“He works here?” she screeches.
Eyes popping, I slap my hand over her mouth. “Will you be quiet?!”
She shoves my hand aside but drops her voice low and apologizes, “I’m sorry, but you can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“You can thank Principal Wells. He saw Owen at the Fun Run last week and offered him the job.”
“But…why?”
“Because Owen was being adorable with a bunch of the kids, teaching them how to stretch and stuff,” I grudgingly admit before tossing my hands into the air. “Or I dunno? Maybe it’s because he’s the famous homegrown athlete that everyone loved to worship while we were in high school.”
“Probably a combination of both,” Skye surmises with pursed lips. “Sorry, Say.”
“It’s fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell me over the weekend or something?”
