Chapter 5
five
. . .
hadley
This is exactly how I wanted to start the school year.
Not!
I break the surface of the water, gasping, hair plastered to my face, and obviously, soaked. And I stink. Sheesh, this water is disgusting, and the bottom is… squishy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think The Swamp Thing calls this body of water home.
Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of the color of the blouse I wore.
White. I wore white.
Instantly, I wrap my arms around my chest. I’m mortified. My face is flushed. The kids think it’s absolutely hilarious. They’re laughing like hyenas.
And I’m completely frozen.
Jett pushes through the water, pulling his soaked t-shirt off. “Are you okay?”
All I can do is look at him for a second. Holy jalapenos, he’s hot. His muscles are on full display, and they have expanded to include pecks and abs and all sorts of other muscles my fingers ache to touch.
“Hadley? Are you okay?” His eyebrows knit with concern.
I’m very okay.
Maybe the water’s short-circuiting my brain. Or maybe it’s leaking out of my ears. Either way, I can’t speak. I just stare at him. He was always the most beautiful boy—now man—I’ve ever seen.
His hands wrap around my upper arms, and he draws so close that when he says, “Hadley…” I can smell the Wrigley’s on his breath. Minty and sweet, and that scent is in every memory of kissing him.
Which I want to do right now.
Only, no. “Yes, no, I’m…” I growl.
I try to pull away, and he wraps his arms around me.
“Stay still.”
“You can’t tell me what to do!”
His kissable lips pinch together. “The kids came for a picnic, not a show.”
Right.
White shirt. Duh.
I unlock my knees and drop thinking Jett will let go. Instead, he goes with me.
“You don’t have to keep holding me,” I hiss.
But then I look up at him.
Lightning is striking in broad daylight as our eyes lock. My brain has me frolicking through a field, holding his hand, and I’m laughing. That was supposed to be my future.
Our future...
“You dumped me, Jett. Do you know how much you hurt me? I loved you. I loved you with every atom in my body. I would have given up everything to be with you. Why? Why did you leave me?”
If anyone asks what’s streaking down my cheeks, I’ll say it’s sweat or pond water. I won’t admit I’m crying over the boy who left a Jett-shaped scar on my soul.
His fingers lift to my face, and he pushes my damp hair back. “And—”
A flash blinds me. I turn my head and nearly puke.
Standing on the shore of Briarwood City Park is Greer Davis, host of The Morning Skate, and she has an entire media crew with cameras pointed directly at me and Jett.
That heifer has a smile so wide and teeth so bright, I’m questioning whether she’s actually human and if I’ll have retinal damage from her fluorescent dental work.
She turns to one of the cameras and says, “Ya’ll, have I got some tea! Remember Jett and Hadley? Look who it is! Briarwood’s golden couple, back at it again!” She turns to us. “Jett and Hadley, high school sweethearts turned sizzling second chance?”
What sort of nightmare scenario is this?
“Put the shirt on.” Jett barks as he tries to shove my arms through the arm holes of his shirt.
The moment it’s on, I robotically begin tromping through the water, murder on my mind. Greer Davis is about to find out just how refreshing this pond is.
Just as I reach her, Vivi wraps me in a towel. “Oh, girl, let me get you home.”
“First, I have to throw her in the pond.” I fight to free myself of Vivi.
“Hadley, your mug would be all over the news.”
“As if it won’t now? Did you not just see that?”
Splashing catches my attention, and I look over. Jett is hauling himself out.
I look like a drowned cat. He looks like dark-haired Chris Hemsworth, raking his hand through his thick locks while everything is in a slow-mo, close-up of his chest.
I actually hear a verbal wow.
It’s me. I said it.
How does someone who broke my heart still make it beat faster than anyone else?
My chin touches my chest as I hang my head.
My luck has hit rock bottom, and I need to go home. I just can’t Hadley today.
***
It’s Monday, and I’m mostly living down my unplanned swim with Jett.
Of course I get some laughs but nothing excessive.
There were strange looks too, especially from some of the parents.
Even ones who weren’t at the Back-to-School bash.
Misfortune travels fast in a small town though, so… what’s a gal to do?
I’m standing outside, greeting the kids as they trickle in.
It’s just what I do. My theory is that if I put the effort into making sure they’re seen, they’ll make the effort to show up. Kids want to know that people care, and I do. I love my job. My kids. My community.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out enough to see the text. We need to talk. I don’t usually get texts during this time of the morning. Everyone knows my routine, including Vivian—who sent the text. So for her to do that, it must be important.
She must have been watching the clock because the first-period bell rings, signaling for everyone to find their place. We’ve got a few stragglers, and I chit-chat with the last one, Warden Cameron—a freshman this year—while we walk.
“So…” he shuffles with me, “my mom said you and Jett Monroe are dating.”
I look at him. “What?”
He shrugs. “She said she saw you and Jett on ClickTok, and that everyone is saying you’re dating him.”
To say I’m stunned doesn’t do the sitch justice. “Uh—”
“I just thought maybe you could get him to sign my jersey or something.” He turns and walks backward.
“Maybe you could get him to come hang at the school one day!” Warden’s eyes are big and bright, and he looks like he’s thought of the best idea in the world.
“That would be so fire—” He gasps. “No! You could have a contest, Ms. Whitaker. We have to get so many A’s or, or, or something like that. ”
We reach his classroom, and he double finger-guns me. “You should totally think about that, Ms. Whitaker. Like, it could be epic.”
I don’t even get in a word before he disappears into the classroom, leaving me gaping like a fish on land.
My brain races to catch up, and I finally close my mouth.
Dating him? I choke on my own saliva.
A buzz from my pocket grabs my attention. It’s Vivi again. We really need to talk. Like pronto, chica.
What on earth could the hurry be?