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Teach. Just call me Teach.
Shit.
I liked her sass.
That was going to be a problem for me.
CHAPTER 8
Starlet
Milo: Did this guy screw his mom?
I giggled as I sat on my bed, reading Milo’s text message.
Starlet: How are you that far into the story already?
Milo: Audiobooks for the win. No, really. Is he screwing his mother?
Starlet: Not on purpose.
Milo: There’s no coming back from that. I hope he jumps off a cliff at the end. That’s the only way he’d ever recover. Death.
I could almost envision his expressions in my mind as he was listening to the audiobook. The mere shock of what was happening was enough to make me laugh.
Starlet: So you handled the reading for this weekend already. See? Getting caught up won’t be hard. Don’t forget to write an essay about someone who inspires you. That’s due on Monday. You can shoot it my way, and I’ll proofread it. Get it done tonight or tomorrow. Remember, Sundays are off days.
Milo: I don’t have a person who inspires me.
Starlet: Don’t worry. I can help you pick a topic. It could be anyone. A teacher, a friend, your parents. Even a celebrity.
I saw the ellipses appear on the screen before they disappeared. They reappeared, then disappeared once more. Milo was trying to gather his thoughts, but he kept deleting them before I could receive them.
I placed my phone back down and went back to reading my novel, but my focus was a little off. I couldn’t help but think about Milo that night. Was he still at home doing his homework, or had he found himself at another party? Is that why he didn’t respond? What if he was off finding another woman to forget with for a while?
I felt jealousy as I tried to continue my normal Saturday night activities, which included face masks, books, and Chinese food. I tried to shake off the odd feeling. What did I have to be jealous about? And why did I feel like texting him to ask what his plans were for the evening? Was he staying in? Was he going out? Was he with another woman? Did she remind him of me?
Stop it, Star.
Behave.
The line of professionalism with Milo was drawn with a Sharpie, and it wouldn’t be erased.
Still, I wondered where he’d been that night and who he’d been with. Did her kisses taste like mine, or did he miss the smoothness of my lips?
Hours later, my phone dinged again.
Milo: Do you still think about it, too?
My stomach knotted from his words. He didn’t know it, but he made me so nervous. A flurry of feelings swam inside me whenever he said something that could’ve been taken the wrong way. The inappropriate way. I felt as if my desires were sins, and I couldn’t stop them from heating with urges and desires strictly forbidden. His question could’ve meant anything, but my mind went straight to the night of the party.
Milo: How he’d screwed his mother?
The breath that caught in my chest evaporated slowly. Then he texted me again.
Milo: That’s what you thought I was talking about, right? Nothing else crossed your mind, huh?
He was messing with my head, and he knew it, too. He was trying to get under my skin, and it was working. And why did I like it? Why did I like the teasing of his words? Why did they leave me so hot and bothered?
Starlet: Milo. Only messages about your schoolwork, please.
Milo: Yes, Teach.
Starlet: Thank you. Please forward me your math assignment from two weeks ago that I wrote out for you to finish tomorrow, along with your English essay, okay?
Milo: Okay, Teach.
Starlet: You’re being a sarcastic jerk, aren’t you?
Milo: Language, Teach.
This man was going to give me a migraine or an orgasm. One or the other.
I didn’t reply, and he stayed quiet, so I figured that was the end of the conversation. I returned to reading my novel, though Milo kept swimming through my thoughts uninvited. A few hours later, my phone dinged right before I fell asleep.
Milo: I’ll write an essay about my grandfather.
Starlet: Good. That’s a good plan.
Milo: Good night, Teach.
Starlet: Good night, Milo.
Milo: I think about it, too, you know. How you let me be your chair that night. I think about that so much, and how I wish it could happen again.
I shut off my phone quickly, trying my best not to fall so deeply into the words he’d written to me.
For the love of all things righteous…
I should’ve known he wasn’t going to let that go easily. The worst part of it all? I did think about it. At least once a day. Sometimes twice. I was officially screwed, and it was Milo Corti who was doing the screwing.
The bathroom stalls of the high school were an interesting sight to take in. The amount of scribbling against the stalls showcased exactly where a lot of the girls’ minds were. In the third stall was a tally list of the hottest guys in the school, and sitting comfortably at the top of the list was Milo’s name.
