Chapter 15
Fifteen
Ky
Only good dreams tonight, starfire.
I bite the inside of my cheek, hiding my smile.
Mostly because I need to focus.
I’ve thought of those words far too many times over the last few days.
And they never fail to make me feel…
Warm.
Okay, hot really.
Remembering the taste of Colt’s mouth, the feel of his body against mine.
The rasp of his voice.
How he’d held himself so carefully still and let me take the lead.
And the need that had coiled itself so tautly in my belly when he brought my hand to his—
Laughter ricochets through my classroom and I jerk myself sharply into focus.
It’s a half day before a long holiday weekend and the kids are nuts.
They don’t want to be here and…frankly, neither do I.
Because the team arrived back in town this morning.
More laughter, followed by a strong “Shh!”
Now I smother a grin.
Most of us don’t want to be here…with the exception of Adrian.
Today is his first day back and he’s his typical bright, lovely self. I just want to hug him close and tell him how glad I am that he’s here.
But I already did that once.
He’s an eleven-year-old boy. He barely tolerated the first round of my fussing.
He certainly won’t accept another.
So, I’d better get my shit together.
“Who loves fat cats?” I call over the laughter.
“We love fat cats!” the class calls back.
There’s snickering and more laughter, but it’s controlled now, their focus coming to me. Some teachers say I’m waiting. Some flick off the lights. Some clap their hands.
I…well, I talk about fat cats.
And it works every time.
I get the smiles, the laughter, the eye rolls.
But I also get their attention.
“All right,” I say. “It’s short periods today so let’s get what we need to get done, yeah?”
Groans all around.
“Because if we do, I have a Kahoot for you and”—I walk over to my desk, pull open the top drawer—“the top three scores will win...” With a flourish I pull out the bag of candy I picked up from the discount aisle at the grocery store. “Their choice of deliciousness.”
Competitiveness, their stomachs, and a dash of learning.
It’s all I can hope to accomplish on a minimum day.
I get through my slides, foster a short discussion, and seed in the next bit of prep for their upcoming end of semester project.
Then it’s time for fun.
They have their Chromebooks open and are battling it out over historical empires when I hear a knock at the door.
It’s policy to keep it locked—because this is America and school intruders are an unfortunate reality—but there’s a narrow window that means I can see who’s on the other side…and when I make eye contact with the person who’s knocked my pulse skips a beat…or maybe a dozen of them.
The class groans—my history quiz has a few tricky questions, the better to keep their focus, muahaha—and I snap to attention, hurrying to the door and pulling it open a couple of inches.
“Colt?” I hiss through the crack. “What are you doing here?”
The class groans again and Colt smiles. “Sounds like they’re having fun in there.”
It did.
But the online game will only last for so long.
“I—” I clench the edge of the door.
“Ms. Connor?”
I jerk and spin to see Adrian. He’s rail thin and wearing a mask, but he’s here, and determined. “Look! I got first place.”
I grin.
Because of course he did.
“Nice, Adrian.” I hold up my fist for him to bump. “You get first choice from the candy bag.”
“I’m second,” Lara says, pointing her screen in my direction.
I nod. “You know the drill.”
She jumps up and I glance toward the whiteboard at the front of the classroom where the winners are displayed. “Who’s…” I pause, having taught for long enough to know exactly what the seventh grade mind was thinking when he or she named themself.
Gabe H. Coud
Douchebag backwards.
Cute.
But the smirk on Vince’s face isn’t.
“Vince, pick your candy,” I finish. “But,” I add as he clambers to his feet and hustles toward my desk, “you and I will be having a chat at the end of class.”
His smirk fades and his eyes come to mine, as if gauging my seriousness.
I just lift my eyebrows.
His shoulders hunch, but he nods.
“Good catch,” I hear murmured in my ear and jump slightly, having forgotten that Colt was there.
How, I don’t know.
Not when every nerve in my body is alive, sparking with sensation.
“You too,” I say softly.
“Me too what?”
“You and I need to have a chat at the end of class.”
His mouth quirks. “Whatever you say, Teach.”
Warmth in my belly, dipping between my legs. But I just pull the door wider so he can slip inside then lift my chin and point at the row of cabinets near the back of the room. “Wait there.”
A wink that has my heart pounding against my ribs.
“Like I said”—he lightly brushes the backs of his knuckles over my cheek—“whatever you say, baby.”
That light touch burns through me and it’s with shaky knees that I walk up to the front of the class, tucking the treats away and then giving the kids the happy news that their only homework over the long weekend is going to be to go outside and touch grass…
then to submit a picture as proof to the online portal.
“Ms. Connors?”
“Yeah?” I say as I finish writing the assignment on the white board (“Touch Grass. Submit Picture.”).
“Is he your boooyfriend?”
“No—”
“Yes,” Colt says at the same time.
My stomach convulses and I open my mouth but things quickly spiral out of my control.
“What’s your name?”
“Why are you here?”
“You’re really tall?”
“Aren’t you the guy who plays for the Sierra?”
“Hockey’s boring!”
“Ms. C, are you in luuuuv?”
“Ew, boys are gross!”
“Why’s he here?”
“Can we pack up? The bell’s in five minutes.”
“I—” A grunt. “Can’t open this.”
“My name is Colt,” he says. “I do play for the Sierra and boys can be gross, but they usually grow out of that.” He winks at me again and it’s all I can do to keep from swooning. “And we’ll have to agree to disagree on the hockey is boring front.” His mouth kicks up. “I kind of like it.”
The room falls quiet, and I’m certainly not about to be the one to snap out of my stupor enough to break the silence.
Colt is the only one who’s nonplussed.
He moves over to Adrian and tears open the packet of candy. “Wash your hands before you eat it,” he says softly.
“Can I have your autograph?” Simon asks.
A shrug. “Sure, if you somehow think that it’s worth something.”
I frown—because why wouldn’t it be worth something?
But the kids keep talking before I can truly process his statement.
“My dad said that the goal you had in the shootout was the best thing he’s ever seen.” A grin. “Well, he said it was the best something thing he’s ever seen, but Ms. C gets mad when I use those words in school.”
“Probably a good idea not to use them then,” Colt says dryly, flicking his gaze toward me, eyes sparkling with humor. “Not a good idea to make Ms. C mad.”
“You’re telling me,” another of the boys says. “Last time she got mad, we had to do pushups.”
“Yeah?” Another amused look in my direction. “How many did you do?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Impressive.”
“I did twenty-five.”
“Killing it, dude.”
“Well, I only did ten.”
“That’s still good.”
“I did sixteen!”
“Awesome, kiddo.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Adrian says quietly. “I can’t do anything.”
And the room goes still.
Damn.
I open my mouth, mind flicking through responses, trying to find the right one.
But my class beats me to it.
“But you’re like a real-life superhero,” Sylvia says. “You’ve had like a billion surgeries and you’re back in school.”
My eyes burn.
Because these kids can be brutally honest—hell, they can just be brutal. But they can also be wonderful.
Like right now.
“Totally,” Simon says. “My mom said you’ve survived death, like, a dozen times. That’s killer.”
I wince.
But I don’t interject because Adrian doesn’t look upset.
In fact, he sits a little straighter, his chin coming up. “My mom says that all of this has made me stronger.”
“She’s right,” Colt says quietly.
“Really?” he asks, face filled with hope.
“Really,” he says.
“I agree,” I interrupt. Because the kids are being awesome, but they’re still seventh graders and their ability to tamp down the snark is limited.
Better to quit while we’re ahead. “And I think it’s time for everyone to pack up so you’re not late for your next period,” I say before anyone can ruin the niceness of the moment. “Vince, you’re with me.”
Colt’s mouth twitches, but the bell goes right then and any response is lost in the chaos of the kids packing up and hurrying out the door and the short, quiet warning I give my class clown.
But I don’t miss that Colt signs the slip of paper Simon holds up.
And I don’t miss him crouching beside Adrian’s desk, saying something that has my young charge’s face lighting up.
“Bye, Ms. C!” someone calls.
I wave, even as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
“Bye, Ms. C’s boyfriend!” someone else calls.
A soft, masculine chuckle.
One I hear because Colt has straightened and walked over to me.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“Hi,” I murmur back.
“Your kids are great,” he says as they file out the door, leaving the room quiet…for about two more minutes.
Then my next period will roll in.
“Yeah, they are.” I lean back against my desk. “Why are you here?”
He shifts closer, reaching out and taking my hand. “I needed to see you.”
My lips part on a shaky exhale. “Colt,” I murmur.
“Come have dinner with me tonight.”
“I—”
“Just dinner.”
“I—”
“Don’t say no.”
“I—”
“Please.”
“Colt.”
His mouth snaps closed, teeth clicking together.
I squeeze his hand then pull mine free as my next period starts rolling in.
“I was just going to ask what time?”