Chapter 16 Charlotte
SIXTEEN
CHARLOTTE
The tension in Professor Lowell’s classroom could power the entire beauty school. She methodically works her way around the room, placing graded exams face-down on each desk like a dealer distributing cards that could make or break futures.
My phone buzzes against my thigh. I glance down to see Koda’s name lighting up my screen. The preview shows just enough to make heat crawl up my neck:
*Thinking about you bent over the kitchen counter this morning...*
I quickly flip the phone face-down, my cheeks burning as I look around to make sure no one else caught a glimpse. The last thing I need is for my classmates to see my mountain man boyfriend sending me dirty texts.
“Miss Palmer.”
Professor Lowell’s voice cuts through my embarrassment as she slides my exam across the desk.
I hold my breath and flip it over, expecting to see another disappointing C-minus staring back at me. Instead, a bright red B+ sits at the top of the page, circled twice for emphasis.
My heart does a little skip in my chest.
After weeks of struggling with morning sickness so bad I could barely keep crackers down, let alone focus on the difference between ash and golden undertones, I actually pulled off a decent grade.
“Excellent improvement, Charlotte.” Professor Lowell’s rare smile makes the achievement feel even sweeter. “Your understanding of color correction has really developed.”
I beam up at her, feeling more accomplished than I have in weeks. Maybe pregnancy brain isn’t completely destroying my academic career after all.
I catch Sarah’s eye from across the room and mouth “B plus!” at her. Her face lights up and she gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up, grinning so wide I can’t help but smile back.
“Now then, class.” Professor Lowell returns to the front of the room. “I have an important announcement regarding your final evaluations.”
The room falls silent except for the nervous rustle of papers and the distant hum of blow dryers from the salon floor below.
“The Friends and Family Showcase will take place in four weeks.” She writes the date on the whiteboard in her precise handwriting.
“This event will account for fifteen percent of your final semester grade. You’ll need to choose one partner from the class to work with.
Each pair will be responsible for providing your own model for the demonstration. ”
My stomach does a nervous flip. Fifteen percent of my grade riding on one demonstration, and I need to find someone willing to let me experiment on their hair in front of a room full of people.
“The showcase is also an opportunity for potential employers to observe your work,” Professor Lowell continues. “Several salon owners from the surrounding area will be in attendance, so consider this a working interview as much as an exam. Are there any questions?”
Melissa, the girl who always sits in the front row and takes notes like she’s transcribing the Bible, raises her hand. “What if our model cancels at the last minute?”
“Then you fail that portion of your grade.” Professor Lowell’s response is matter-of-fact and terrifying. “I suggest you choose someone reliable and have a backup plan.”
Great. No pressure at all.
The class ends with a flurry of nervous chatter and the scraping of chairs against linoleum.
I gather my books slowly, still processing the B+ and the showcase announcement.
Fourteen weeks pregnant, finally feeling human again after the worst morning sickness known to womankind, and now I have to pull off a flawless color transformation in front of potential employers.
“Holy shit, Charlotte!” Sarah appears at my elbow, practically vibrating with excitement. “A B+! That’s amazing!”
I can’t help but grin. “I know, right? I honestly thought I was going to fail after missing so many classes.”
“Those first few weeks were rough.” Sarah slings her bag over her shoulder as we head toward the exit. “But you look so much better now. You actually have color in your cheeks again instead of that green tinge.”
She’s not wrong. The past two weeks have been a revelation after the hellish month that followed my positive pregnancy test. The constant nausea has finally backed off to just occasional queasiness, and I can actually eat real food again instead of surviving on saltines and ginger ale.
“I’m just glad I can think straight again,” I say, pushing open the heavy glass door that leads to the parking lot. “There were days I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone the difference between a level 7 and level 8.”
Sarah laughs. “Pregnancy brain is real. My sister said she tried to put the milk in the cabinet and the cereal in the fridge for like three months straight.”
The mention of pregnancy makes me instinctively press a hand to my stomach.
At fourteen weeks, there’s finally a tiny bump starting to show, though it’s still easy to hide under loose shirts and Koda’s oversized flannels. Sometimes I catch myself just staring at it in the mirror, amazed that there’s actually a tiny person growing in there.
My phone buzzes again, and this time I don’t bother hiding my smile as I read Koda’s message: *How did the exam go, beautiful?*
“Let me guess,” Sarah says, noticing my expression. “That’s Koda, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” I try to play it cool, but the blush creeping up my neck gives me away.
Sarah bumps my shoulder with hers.
“Oh, please. You get that same dopey look every time he texts you. It’s actually kind of adorable how gone you are for him.”
“I am not gone for him,” I protest, even as I type back a quick response about the B+.
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Face it, Palmer. You’re head over heels for your mountain man.”
She’s not wrong, but hearing it said out loud still makes something flutter in my chest.
My phone buzzes with another message, and I glance down at the screen:
*Proud of you, baby. Can’t wait to celebrate tonight.*
The word ‘celebrate’ sends a little thrill through me, and I have to resist the urge to fan myself.
Ever since the morning sickness finally backed off two weeks ago, I’ve been embarrassingly horny. Poor Koda can barely look at me sideways without me practically climbing him like a tree.
“Earth to Charlotte.” Sarah waves a hand in front of my face. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?” I blink, trying to focus on her instead of the mental image of Koda’s hands on my body.
“That glazed-over, sex-drunk expression you get whenever he texts.” She grins wickedly. “Seriously, it’s like watching someone get high in real time.”
I feel my cheeks burn hotter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.” Sarah starts walking toward her car, and I fall into step beside her. “So what’s the plan for the showcase? Are we going to be partners or what?”
“Of course,” I tell her. “Who should we use as our model?”
“Actually, I was thinking that my cousin Jade would be perfect,” Sarah says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “She’s been wanting to go lighter for ages, and she’s super reliable. Plus, she’s got that gorgeous, thick hair that would be amazing to work with.”
I feel a wave of relief wash over me. “Really? She’d be willing to let us do a full transformation?”
“Are you kidding? She’d love it. She’s always been my guinea pig growing up, and she actually enjoys being the center of attention.” Sarah pulls out her phone. “I can text her right now if you want. Get it locked down before anyone else panics about finding a model.”
“That would be amazing,” I say, grateful to have one less thing to stress about.
Sarah’s already typing away on her phone, then looks up with a grin. “Done. She’s already texting back—she’s totally in.”
Before I can respond, she’s pulling me into a quick hug.
“I’ll text you later with all the details,” she says, heading toward her car. “Go celebrate that B+ with your mountain man!”
I wave as she drives off, then dig my keys out of my bag. The afternoon sun feels warm on my face, and for the first time in weeks, I actually feel good. Great, even. The nausea is finally gone, my grades are improving, and I have a solid partner for the showcase.
My phone buzzes again, and this time Koda’s message makes me bite my lip:
*Been thinking about you all afternoon. About how you taste. How you sound when I make you come.*
A gush of wetness coats my panties. I glance around the parking lot to make sure no one can see the probably ridiculous expression on my face.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m in my car and on my way to Koda’s job. Koda mentioned he had training sessions this afternoon at Worthington Sports. Maybe I can surprise him. The drive across town takes fifteen minutes, my anticipation building with each mile.
The gym is busy when I walk through the glass doors twenty minutes later. The receptionist, a blonde woman in her twenties, looks up from her computer with a professional smile.
“Hi, I’m looking for Koda Wilde,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Oh, he’s in the back training area.” She points down a hallway lined with motivational posters. “Just follow the sounds of someone getting their ass kicked.”
I laugh and head in the direction she indicated, my heart rate picking up with each step. The hallway opens into a large training area with boxing rings, heavy bags, and various pieces of equipment I can’t even name.
I spot Koda immediately.
He’s in the ring with a younger guy, holding thick padded mitts while his student throws combinations.
Sweat gleams on Koda’s arms and chest where his tank top doesn’t cover, his muscles flexing as he absorbs each punch.
His dark hair is pulled back, and even from across the room, I can see the intense focus on his face.
Man, he’s sexy.
I lean against the wall to watch, content to admire him until he notices me. It doesn’t take long. His eyes find mine between combinations, and his face immediately lights up with that smile he reserves just for me.