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Turning, I shot Carson a smug look before the teacher could notice.
“What? Why me?” Carson waved a hand toward me. “She’s the one that tried to strangle me.”
“Oh, and her eye just swelled up like that on its own?”
My mouth twisted, satisfied. See, you had it coming, my face said.
“Fine,” Carson muttered.
“Um. Do they maybe need a chaperone?” Harper asked from behind me, sounding a bit scared.
“They’ll make it there together just fine. Like civilized people. Am I right?” the substitute asked, though it was more a demand than a question.
I nodded, at least having the decency to look contrite, but when I glimpsed Carson, he smiled like this was all some big joke.
The sub should’ve let me choke him.
I glared daggers at him as he came up beside me.
“Shorty?” he said, offering his arm to me.
I grimaced, ignoring his arm and the heinous nickname and spun around, heading for the gym doors, putting as much distance between us as possible.
Once I stepped out into the hall, the smack of his tennis shoes over the linoleum soon followed as he hurried to catch up. When he appeared by my side, instead of walking next to me, he pulled ahead.
I narrowed my eyes on his back. He was so tall and his shoulders so broad, I could hardly see past them.
I pumped my arms, moving my feet faster until I was speed-walking past, Carson at my rear. Ha!
“What’s the hurry, Randalls?” Carson said behind me.
I glanced back, and he seized the opportunity to step in front of me again, but his legs were so long he didn’t even look like he was trying. His stride was effortless, natural.
It annoyed me.
I huffed and curled my hands into fists at my side. Who cares if he walks in front of you? There is no hurry. You do NOT need to get there first. This isn’t about winning, Mia.
I folded my arms over my chest, pushing the bubbling anger aside, trying to focus on something other than Carson’s obnoxious swagger.
Oh, who was I kidding?
I took off in a jog, shamelessly smiling at him as I flew past, sending him to my rear where he belonged. Suddenly, our trek to the gallows became a race. When he pulled ahead, I did whatever necessary to beat him. My lungs screamed, but my body vibrated with triumph. I panted as we rounded the corner when Carson called out, “Hey, that’s okay. I like the view better from back here anyway.”
I stopped dead in my tracks, my feet turning to cement as my head whipped back to see his eyes on my butt. “Abso-lutely not,” I said.
“What?” He shrugged. “I am a guy, after all, and you actually have a nice—”
“Finish that sentence and you’re a dead man,” I said, poking him in the ribs as he drew near.
He chuckled and caught my finger in his warm grip.
A zing of electricity shot through my hand and I yanked it away, shaking it out. Even his touch was weaponized.
“Sorry about your eye,” he murmured, his gaze drifting over my face.
“Yeah, you look really sorry.”
He raised his hands in surrender, but one corner of his mouth tipped up in a crooked smile. “It was an accident, I swear.”
