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Mandy: Why doesn’t he just come home with Turner after school? I have the day off and will be with them the entire time. Then, you can just pick him up when your meeting is over.
Me: Sounds great. Thanks, Mandy.
Mandy: Anytime. Thanks for being so understanding about Turner being a butthead. We’re working on it.
Me: Trust me, I get it. You’re doing great.
Mandy: I’m trying, though I know I have a long way to go after letting his dad stick around as long as he did. Anyway…I’ll see you Thursday.
Me: See you then.
I go to slide my phone back into my pocket before unlocking it a second time and pulling up my conversation with Slytherin4ever. She still hasn’t responded to my message during Wells’ morning speech. I can’t decide if it’s because she knows I overheard her in the hall or if it’s because she’s been too busy at work to message me back. Or maybe she feels guilty for lying to me.
She should feel guilty.
And I should be pissed. But I’m almost…flattered. Now that I know who Slytherin4ever is, I’m dying to talk to her. To open up to her. To let her know how I feel.
But it’s dangerous. And I’m afraid we’ll both end up getting burned if I let her keep up the charade when I know the truth. Unfortunately, my willpower has never been very strong when it comes to Saylor. Especially when she’s been giving me the cold shoulder any time we’re face-to-face. The fact that we’ve been talking, connecting, joking with each other like old times…it’s addictive. And not very smart. Because even though I’m dying to connect with Saylor, if she thinks I’m falling for Slytherin4ever, then where does that leave us? But when she won’t give the real me the time of day, what else am I supposed to do?
With the knowledge that I’m definitely playing with fire, I type a quick message to Slytherin4ever and hit send.
OD: How was your day?
I stare at the screen for a few more seconds, but she doesn’t reply. Defeated, I slip my phone into my pocket, then head to Saylor’s class to pick up Grady. When I spot Say sitting at her desk with her phone in her hand, my chest swells with anticipation before I shake it off.
Act natural, dumbass.
“Hey, Grady,” I call out.
His head snaps up from whatever he’s coloring at his desk. “Hey, Dad.”
“Let’s get going, okay? Can you pick up your things?”
Markers are scattered in front of him, so he starts gathering them to put away while Saylor sets her phone face down on her desk and smiles tightly at me.
“Hey,” I greet her as I take a few steps into her classroom.
“Hi.”
“How was he today?” I tilt my head toward Grady.
“He was good,” she breathes, giving me a one-shouldered shrug. “He’s always good.” Her teeth dig into the pad of her thumb as her eyes collect with moisture.
“You okay?” I ask as I fight the overwhelming need to protect her from whatever’s bothering her.
She ignores my question and tucks her hair behind her ear. “You raised a good one, Owen.”
The compliment hits me harder than I expect, and I rub my hand against my chest before tucking it into my front pocket. “Uh, thanks. Not sure how much I had to do with it, but….”
“More than you probably know,” she clarifies. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
