Page 114 of The Charm of You

“You were so bad.” Yvonne snickers.

“I guess you’re still bad.” Emily flicks her disapproving gaze toward me.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” I chime in with a suggestive wink and an exaggerated smile.

The rest of the group filters into the hall again to make their way through the rest of the school, but Caroline tugs me back, amusement dancing in her eyes like glitter.

She closes the door to the classroom, draws the shade low, and threads her fingers through mine. She leads me to the front of the classroom, and the devilish smile on her pouty lips makes me hard.

I cock a brow, intrigued by the direction we’re headed in.

But the light in her eyes dims as she faces me, and her gulp echoes between us. “I’m sorry about Emily and Yvonne. What they said was classic mean girl shit.”

Her choice of phrasing is something I’d expect from Scarlett or Matilda. It makes me chuckle.

“What they said isn’t how I feel. You know that, right?” Caroline purses her lips.

I cage her between my arms with my palms on either side of the desk behind her. “I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. I’m just a guy in math class with a large, filthy appetite—and it’s not for numbers.”

The light from before flashes across her blue eyes again. With an arch of her brow, she hoists herself onto the desk. “Have you ever made out with a head cheerleader on a teacher’s desk?”

Nostrils flaring, I stand between her open legs and slide my palms up her thighs. “Isn’t that breaking some kind of rule? I’d hate to be sent to the principal’s office,” I whisper against her lips.

“I think we should risk it.” She snakes her arms over my shoulders and grips the back of my neck, where her fingers toy with the collar of my flannel shirt. “Besides, it would be blasphemous not to make out here. We can’t waste such an opportunity.”

“I hate waste.” I slant my mouth over hers, and my thundering heart rattles the wall I’ve worked so hard to build over the years.

chapter

thirty-six

CAROLINE

“Nathan asked about you this morning,” Addie says to Maren in a suggestive, singsong voice as she passes me an eyeshadow palette.

“I saw him last night at the game,” Maren evenly draws out as she releases a tuft of her hair from the steaming curling iron. Once she’s in the clear from piping hot danger, she loses her composure. Huffing, she says, “The irritating man said he was coming this weekend, then he wasn’t, and now he’s here. Just showed up and was all, ‘Hi, Maren. You look great.’ I mean, what the fuck was that?”

A strained laugh escapes my tight lips.

“This isn’t funny,” Maren asserts.

“It so isn’t,” I say. “But how else am I supposed to respond to your level of flustration?”

“You never get flustered,” Addie adds. “You didn’t get this worked up when those snarky teenagers spray-painted your coffee truck a couple years ago.”

“You got worked up enough for the both of us.”

Addie turns her sheepish gaze toward me. “It’s true. I almost lost my job, and to be honest, it would’ve been worth it.”

“Addison Lockhart—Sapphire Creek’s Most Organized and Loyal Vigilante—at your service,” I tease.

She tosses a scrunchy at me, and the three of us share a laugh.

It’s much like old times, when we’d often take over my bedroom, with an array of hair and beauty products outstretched in front of us. The makeup itself and the ring light propped on the mirror might be new, but the energy and laughs are reminiscent of the times the three of us would get ready together before a dance, parade, or pageant.

There were times when Emily, Yvonne, and I prepped together in high school, but these two ladies were the ones I shared so many memories with long before high school.

And ten years later, the three of us are back here, dolling ourselves up for the reunion tonight.

---