Page 113 of The Thought of You

“The song is her,” Mia supplies.

Owen throws his hand up and spreads his fingers in a mic drop gesture. He swivels his head toward his class, who’s making much less noise, and calls out, “I see you! Get back to work, people.”

His eyes land on me.

My smile is instant. It couldn’t be contained were my mouth sealed with duct tape.

His eyes slowly crinkle in the corners as his own grin spreads.

And for this split-second moment, we’re the only two people in the building.

chapter

thirty-six

OWEN

Thank fuck, Addie’s okay.

She looks great in anything and everything—I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it a million times more—but green is not a comforting look for her face.

She scared the shit out of me, but she returns from the locker room less green. Her eyes are red, though, so I’m not completely at ease just yet.

The bell rings for lunch soon after she approaches me, where I stand in front of her class, and all the students file out.

“Awesome class,” one girl gushes as she sidesteps Addie and me.

“Taylor for the win,” I say back, spreading my arms to my sides. Once we’re alone, I give Addie a once-over and ask, “How are you feeling?”

She rubs her stomach. “My throat’s a little sore, but I think I can manage the rest of the day. Hopefully.”

“Why don’t I take you home? Sable or a sub can fill in for your class.”

“Or you could.” She points to where her students were just previously scattered. “Were you analyzing Taylor Swift lyrics?”

“Her song ‘I Can Do It with a Broken Heart’ has many levels. We didn’t even get to the half of it.”

Addie appraises me with what appears to be a mix of awe and disbelief. “You’ve actually listened to Taylor Swift?”

“Duh.” I scoff. “I have three sisters—I’m an honorary Swiftie who knows most, if not all, the songs. Just try me. I dare you to quiz me.”

She holds her hand up and giggles. “I think I believe you. I’m just… I need a minute to process this new information.”

“Take your sweet time, baby. I’ll wait.” I wink.

She starts to smile, but it quickly transforms into horror. Her hand flies to her mouth, and she bolts for the locker room again.

“Shit,” I mutter.

The stomach bug has been going around. Could that be what she has? If that’s the case, I should be worried too, considering how close she and I got last night—three times.

After the hot tub, we continued the party in the shower, and I could’ve died a happy man in there, complete with the suds of my men’s Dove bodywash.

I touch the back of my hand to my cheek to confirm I don’t have a fever. Truthfully, I couldn’t be in better shape right now. No fever, nausea, or headache. I feel great, but it doesn’t mean I’m in the clear.

She could also have food poisoning.

As soon as she exits the locker room, her eyes redder than before and makeup smudged, I’m waiting for her right outside the door and ask, “What have you eaten in the last day or so? Anything out of the ordinary?”

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