Chapter 19
Ari
The first thing I notice the next morning is that somebody stole all my good Expo markers again.
Not the dried-out black ones shoved in the back of my desk drawer.
No, somebody specifically targeted the colorful ones I use for lesson headers and inspirational quotes.
Which means, somewhere in this school, there’s a criminal walking around with my teal marker, and honestly, I hope it leaks in their pocket.
That’s how passionate I am about my whiteboard Expo markers.
I shake the black marker in my hand aggressively before uncapping it and writing across the whiteboard:
THE GREAT GATSBY CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY DUE MONDAY
The classroom is still quiet, sunlight barely filtering through the tall windows overlooking the faculty parking lot. Students haven’t arrived yet, which means I still have a few precious minutes of peace before teenagers begin asking me questions like whether Gatsby is “low-key toxic.”
Which he is.
The door behind me creaks open. I glance over my shoulder to find Wade leaning against the metal frame in black slacks with a collared golf shirt. He looks good in business casual. Like the kind of guy corporate women in pencil skirts would have affairs with during office conferences.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” I cap the marker harder than necessary. “You’re dressed up today.”
“District meetings.” His lips curve upward slowly, eyes dragging over me in a way that feels entirely too awake for this hour of the morning. “You must like it, though.”
“I don’t care what you wear.” I walk to my desk, trying to pull off indifference even though I’ve daydreamed a time or two about all the different versions of Wade and which one I like best. Right now, I’m stuck in Wade’s Carhartt era from last week’s football game, but business casual is definitely giving it a run for its money.
I can feel him watching me as I take a seat at my desk. He pushes off the doorframe and walks to me. The scent of his cologne comes with him—clean and fresh and annoyingly masculine.
“I saw your sister yesterday,” I say, keeping things on topic.
“Sadie?”
“Do you have more than one sister?”
“I have a sister-in-law.”
“No, your actual sister.”
“What’s she up to?”
“I don’t know. We were just out running errands for Landrie’s wedding.”
“Was your mom there?”
“Yes.”
“Does she still hate me?”
“She was actively trying to set me up with two other men the entire time, so I would say yes. I tried to stick up for you, but you’re still not her favorite person.”
His brows leap up. “You tried to stick up for me?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t just let her bash my fake boyfriend.”
“Well, I haven’t even been able to show her the doting-boyfriend side of me yet.” He leans one hand against my desk, lowering himself slightly closer to me. “So that’s to be expected. Just give it some time. She’ll come around.”
“Your lack of self-awareness is commendable.”
“Thank you.”
“But back to your sister. Sadie mentioned that we’re going to the mayor’s fiftieth birthday party together.”
“Exciting, huh?”
“This is news to me.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Exactly when were you going to tell me? The party is tomorrow night.”
“I haven’t seen you at school the last two days because of the meetings.
But that’s why I’m here. There’s no football game for us to go to this week.
So…” He clears his throat just for the show of it, straightening like he’s about to deliver a formal proposal instead of nonsense.
“Ari, would you like to go to the mayor’s birthday party with me? ”
I uncross my arms and scoot into my desk. “No.”
“No?” His voice rises an octave from shock. “Are you allowed to say no in this little agreement of ours?”
“There’s no need for us to go to the mayor’s party, because my mom won’t even be there. She’s going to Burlington with Landrie to meet with the wedding caterer.”
“Who says we’re going for your mom?”
I glance up at him. His tie-less collar sits open at the throat, and for one unfortunate second, I wonder what it looks like beyond that opening.
Snapping my eyes back to his, I continue with business as usual. “I doubt Ashtyn will be there.”
“Actually, you’re wrong.” He sits on the corner of my desk, crushing a stack of ungraded papers.
His thigh brushes my hand for half a second before he settles, and the contact sends a stupid little wave of heat through me.
“Her mother is the mayor’s secretary and the one planning the party.
Ashtyn will most definitely be there helping.
So we’re going. Unless you have something more important to do besides trying to beat me at being the world’s best fake boyfriend. ”
“Yet to be determined,” I mutter under my breath but still loud enough to garner a smile from him.
Not a cocky smile this time.
One that says he’s amused with me.
“I’d planned to stop by Reese’s house to help her move in, but it sounds like I’m already committed elsewhere.”
His grin turns victorious. “Yes, you are.”
“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re willing to take this relationship so public.”
“The potential of jail time is a pretty strong persuader.”
“There’s going to be a lot of people there. More than at church.” I tilt my head slightly. “Do you think you can handle it? I know how much you despise relationships.”
Instead of answering immediately, Wade’s gaze drops to my mouth.
My pulse stumbles.
He leans down slowly, one hand bracing against my desk beside my arm. His mouth hovers inches above mine, close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath.
“Honey, none of this is a problem for me.”
There’s a flip in my stomach, a small buzz of excitement that I can’t account for.
The room suddenly feels very warm.
Why is it so easy to forget that this whole thing is fake?
I swallow. “Don’t call me honey.”
“Get used to it.”
He hops off the desk like he’s completely unaffected by how close our lips just were. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to remember basic respiratory functions.
“I love a good term of endearment. Honey, baby, baby doll, sweetie, muffin, sugar lips,” he says as he walks to the door. “You never know what’s going to come out of my mouth next.”
“I changed my mind. The deal’s off. I won’t be attending the party with you after all.”
He laughs like he’s enjoying this.
“Oh, and”—he slaps the door frame as he turns back to look at me—“the party is black tie. Make sure you wear something nice.”
There’s a wink, and then he’s gone.
Freaking Wade and freaking black tie.
Where am I going to find something nice last minute?