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“I’m going to find out who!” Maya yells.
I chuckle to myself without turning around and head to my second period class, anxious to go play with Natalie more.
Natalie
I sit in the restroom stall until the last bell rings. It will be the first tardy I’ve ever gotten, but I don’t care right now. My plan is to slip into class late and pray to God Dalton leaves me alone.
I close my eyes, inhale a deep breath, and exit the stall, heading straight for my second period class.
“You’re late, Miss Spencer,” Miss Hernandez says.
“Sorry,” I mumble as I head to my desk, keeping my head down so I don’t make eye contact with Dalton.
I slide into my desk and release the air I was holding, glad I made it in without seeing him.
Miss Hernandez turns to the board to write something, and chills instantly run down my entire body when I feel Dalton lean forward and whisper, “Did you really think you could hide all day in the bathroom?”
I sit there, still as can be, trying to act unaffected from him being so close.
Tryingbeing the operative word.
“Meet me tonight.”
“No,” I force out in a whisper.
“Then, I’ll knock on your front door and ask your dad for his permission to date his daughter.”
I totally forget where I am and turn to face him so fast that I knock my notebook on the ground. “No!”
His smug expression makes me want to slap him silly.
“Excuse me, Miss Spencer?” Miss Hernandez asks, bringing me back to reality.
I face her, embarrassed. “Sorry, Dalton kept kicking my chair,” I lie.
“Dalton, keep your hands and feet to yourself,” Miss Hernandez replies, then goes back to writing something on the board.
“I’ll keep my feet to myself, but there’s no telling what my hands will want to do,” Dalton whispers before he leans back in his chair, his long legs stretched out to the side of my chair, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
When his leg brushes against mine, goose bumps race over my skin so fast that I have to reposition my seating, almost afraid of what else his touch will do to me.
I close my eyes in frustration, but not because of his words. I’m frustrated at the way my body reacted to the idea of his hands doing things they shouldn’t—to me.
I stare at my phone the entire afternoon. Even though I keep telling myself I won’t go meet him, I keep checking my phone to see if it’s time to go yet.
I’m so screwed.
Focusing on my homework is impossible, though I try my hardest to push every thought of Dalton out of my head and stay on the task at hand.
That is, until I see the clock, and without a secondthought, I jump off my bed and head straight for the door.
I’m royally screwed.
No one is in the kitchen or living room, so I sneak out the back door, only to swing the door open with too much force—directly into my mom, who’s walking back into the house.
“Oh. Sorry.” I stumble to get my bearings.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Mom says as she moves my hair off my face to see me better.
