15. Sloane #2
“What I want is for my life to be easy. What I want is for the woman I met on a plane two weeks ago that I cannot stop thinking about not to also be in my fucking biology class.”
I don’t respond immediately, sifting through my intoxicated thoughts to come up with the best reply. “I’m sorry for that.”
“We really should not be talking.”
“Right.”
“But I need to know you get home safely. Just send me a message when you’re home.”
I nod before remembering that he can’t see me. “Right, okay.”
“See you Monday, Sloane,” he says before ending the call without another word.
I find Delaney not long after I get off the phone, and I convince her that it is time to go despite her need to keep “killing it beer pong!” She was not, which was indicative of how much drunker she was since the last time I saw her.
I messaged River when I got home to let him know I was safe, and he responded with another thumbs-up.
I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the weekend.
I was absolutely expecting things to be different when I went into third period on Monday.
While things weren’t completely resolved, I was pretty sure River didn’t hate me after our conversations on Saturday.
I know I shouldn’t have called him that night, but he answered and talked to me for a while, and although he still seemed to push the narrative that we shouldn’t be talking, I figured that was more about exercising restraint than about him being angry.
I really wasn’t trying to tempt him. I know we couldn’t go further.
I’d lied, and there wasn’t any way for me to fix it. At least right now. If he were to grant me a second chance, I imagine that wouldn’t come until graduation day.
Things seemed to be okay on Monday. He barely even acknowledged me. Same went for Tuesday and Wednesday.
But the second I stepped into his classroom on Thursday, for some reason, I could almost feel the tension in the air.
I take my usual seat in the back of the room, and once I sit down, I look toward the front.
River is staring at his computer with a scowl across his face, and for a moment, his eyes dart away from the screen and connect with mine.
He doesn’t look angry, but his cold gaze sends a chill through me.
“I think Sam is planning to have people over again after the game tomorrow,” Mack says as we’re packing up our stuff after the bell rings.
“You should come. I hate that we didn’t really get a chance to hang out last weekend,” he says, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes because the reason we didn’t is that at least three different girls surrounded him at all times.
I wasn’t upset, jealous, or bothered by it, but I’m sure anything I say at this moment won’t accurately convey that.
I shrug, and I hope it comes off as nonchalant as I feel about it. “Oh, that’s fine. I was with my cousin anyway.”
“I know, I asked Delaney specifically if you were coming. But I wanted to ask you myself this time.” He readjusts his backpack, then holds his hand up, and I give him a high five. I’m about to respond as we’re walking toward the front door when I hear my name.
“Miss Hunter?”
“Yes?” I almost add Mr. Kincaid, but I’ve never called him that except for when I’m trying to rile him up, and I wasn’t sure how he’d react to me calling him that in school while in mixed company.
“Can I see you for a moment?”
“Sure.” I nod before turning to Mack. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, I’ll find you after school?” he asks, and I nod in agreement. “See you at practice, Coach.” He nods at River before heading out the door. The rest of the class has filed out, leaving River and me alone.
I look over my shoulder, just in case there was someone else lingering, before turning back to him. “You know, you could just message me. I can’t imagine this is less risky.”
“I’m trying to avoid putting anything in writing or anything that can be traced.” He fiddles with his pen before setting it down on his desk. He looks up at me, and though there are traces of heat in his gaze, he seems like he might be mad at me.
“You seem… agitated,” I tell him.
“Do not date any of the guys on the team,” he replies immediately.
His eyes dart to the open door of his classroom before turning back to me.
I know he has his free period next, so I don’t think he’s worried about anyone walking in on us, but there could still be people lingering in the hallway who could overhear.
I don’t hear anyone talking, but I’m sure to keep my volume down.
“What?”
“You like Mack.” He turns his gaze to his computer, as if he’s focusing on something, but I get the feeling it’s because he can’t look at me.
I frown because he can’t be serious. “I drunk-dialed you from a party I was actually at with him on Saturday, and you’re concerned that we’re dating now? That I like someone else?” I fold my hands over my chest. “And say I did, does it matter?”
His eyes slowly move up to mine, and they are definitely angry. “Yes.”
“Why? You can’t tell me who I can and can’t date just because you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” he grits out. “I advise all of my guys not to start relationships during football season because it causes distractions. And Mack, especially, who is probably the top recruit right now, definitely cannot afford any. He needs his head in the game at all times.”
“Seems like you just have a problem with the thought that he’d rather have his head elsewhere.
” I scowl at him as my eyebrows pinch because this was fucking ridiculous.
He wants me to pretend he’s invisible, and evidently, the rest of the guys in the school too?
“This is all just because you’re jealous.
You’re using the football team as an excuse, but this would be the same argument regardless of the guy. ”
“No. I also… I don’t want you getting caught up in that. Some of the guys… often talk to a few girls at once.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t notice the groupies following him around the entire party?
Give me some credit. We talk in this class, and that’s really it.
But it does make me feel good that you seem to be bothered by it.
” He picks up his pen again and looks down at the paper he must have started grading during the last few minutes of class. “Just admit you’re jealous.”
“I am not,” he says without looking up at me. “It’s not my business what you do.”
“One minute, you act like you want me,” I whisper. “Then the next, you act like you’re not into me. Or like I’ve imagined what’s going on between us.”
“I think it’s pretty fucking obvious that I want you. My body can still want you when every other part of me knows I can’t. I shouldn’t.”
“Well, you’re giving me whiplash.”
His narrowed eyes lock on mine, and they are hard and way too intense to be considered appropriate. “Messaging me on Saturday was over the line. You know what the boundaries are, yet you’re hell-bent on crossing them.”
“You surely had no problem crossing them with me. I wasn’t talking to myself, you know.”
“Because you make me so fucking reckless,” he mutters before sitting back in his chair with his hand over his eyes.
It feels like the air is shifting between us. Like we know we’re in this impossible situation and know what we shouldn’t do, yet we can’t stop.
“I know you’re pissed, but… have you been thinking about me at all?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I’d like a straight answer.”
“Yes, okay. Is that what you want from me? I can’t stop thinking about you.
You’re in the back of my mind all. Day. Long.
Sometimes I’m angry with you. Sometimes I’m thinking about those nights we had…
sometimes I’m thinking about how I stupidly thought this was different and how it all blew up in my fucking face,” he says, and I wince at the harshness of his words even though I know I deserve them.
“But mostly, I’m thinking about how gorgeous you look every day and how it takes everything out of me to keep my eyes off you during class. ”
My heart pounds in my chest. This is the worst place to have this conversation, but I didn’t want to break this bubble of honesty we were in. “I’ve been thinking about you too,” I respond. “And how much I hate that you hate me.”
His jaw tightens in response. “I don’t hate you.
” He shakes his head before rubbing a hand over his jaw.
“But it doesn’t matter. None of this matters because we can’t do anything.
It’s not appropriate, and I would get in so much trouble.
” I bite my bottom lip, a movement that catches his attention because his eyes flit directly to my lips.
“What I wouldn’t give to fucking kiss you again.
I think about kissing you all the fucking time. ”
“Me too,” I murmur before the bell starts to ring, letting me know that I’m late for my next class again.
“And yeah, I’m fucking jealous. I hate that they can… have you when I fucking want you.”
“Who said I want anyone else?”
“I can’t have you either.”
I look toward the open door. “Can we talk later?”
“Detention,” he murmurs, and I tilt my head to the side.
“What?” I ask confused.
“Detention. Today after school.”
What the fuck? “You’re giving me detention?”
“I’m running it today before I have practice.”
“And you think in a room full of people who also have detention is the time for us to talk?”
“Trust me. Three fifteen, room 204, do not be late,” he says before looking back down at his paper as if he’s dismissing me.