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“I guess you’ve had a busy morning,” I said, trying to draw attention away from the less than wholesome slice of cheesy pizza and blueberry muffin on my plate.
“Frantic,” Cullen said. “It’s nice to have a break from the hype.”
“Oh well, no football talk then,” I declared, and because I was unable to resist the smell of pizza any longer, I picked up my slice and said, “Packed with protein, all this cheese.”
Cullen laughed, his glinting eyes making me swoon and lose my breath. It was like he was looking deep into my irises, studying every fleck and shade of color.
“And blueberries, they’re full of vitamins,” I carried on my comedic act. “A, B, C and probably X Y Z.” I took a bite of pizza, my reaction an exaggerated, “Mmmmm.”
A hint of amusement reflected in his eyes, the fifty shades of gray, silver and blue projecting an unspoken devotion, the two of us chewing—his healthy sandwich, my calorie-laden pizza—watching each other, mesmerized.
“Ahem,” Emma cleared her throat, jolting us out of our trance. Tess and Kenzie joined her in a round of giggles.
Cullen wasn’t the least bit apologetic about the moment of sweet adoration. He picked up his spoon and scooped up some yogurt, his eyes averting to my chest.
“You have an accident?” he queried with a smug look.
Looking down, I adjusted my tie to hide the offending stain. “No, just a faulty juice box,” I said.
Cullen’s laughter was uninhibited. “Faulty juice box?” He sent himself into a coughing fit.
I passed him a napkin. “What’s so funny? Look. When I pushed in the straw, it squirted all over me.” The thought was impulsive and wicked. I picked up the box, about to reinsert the straw, but Cullen’s hand covered mine in a flash, not allowing my playful deed.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve got more interviews later,” he said, straightening the front of his blazer. “Can’t go into the Principal’s office with a stain on my shirt, can I?”
I meekly pressed my lips together and shook my head apologetically. “No, that’s not a good look for the football captain.”
His smile sent my heart into a flutter. “You know, I just had a sudden craving for marshmallows,” he said, his tongue running along his lower lip.
My cheeks zapped with color, but I couldn’t look away. It brought back the memory of the night in the hot tub, a memory more delicious than the pizza on my plate.
“Marshmallows?” It was hard to breathe all of a sudden. “With hot chocolate?”
“Sure.”
Cullen casually swung his arm around the back of my chair, his fingertips dancing on my shoulder. It would only be a second before a duty teacher wandered through and disproved of such an action, the rigid rules and regulations not allowing public displays of affection.
Cullen’s head leaned closer, so his lips rested near my ear. “You know what? I feel like I’m the King of Covington today. You know what that means?”
“You have a dragon to slay?” He’d been labeled The Dragon Slayer in many articles after Millie had given him the title when the Chargers couldn’t stop winning.
“No, it means I can do whatever I want,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Cullen pushed his chair back and pulled me by the hand. Within seconds we’d departed the cafeteria, my legs in a semi-jog to keep up with him.
“Where are we going?” I asked, though I knew we were headed toward the weight room. “What? Didn’t you do your workout this morning?”
He took his student card from his pocket and swiped it to open the door. A quick glance indicated it was empty.
“What are we doing here?” I said. “You want to lift weights?”
“My heart is already getting a workout,” he said. “But my lips can’t wait.” Cullen’s arms reached out to encircle me.
“Oh,” I said and upon understanding his intent, “OHHHHH.”
“Yeah. It’s a long time until our date tonight.”
“A really long time,” I said lifting my wrist to check the time, “like about seven hours.”
