Page 19 of The Thought of You

I open my mouth to put an end to this, but to my surprise, Owen beats me to it.

“What isn’t fair is that the other classes have managed to show up on time for their float shifts and complete the tasks without resistance or disrespect.” He naturally towers over the students, not only because he’s tall, but also because the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds are still growing into their sneakers.

“We’re not float scientists. How are we supposed to finish it in two hours?” Frances chimes in as Maple’s backup.

Owen holds his large hand up, revealing strong fingers and a thick wrist. “I’m so glad you asked, and we’ll get to that. First, how about we apologize for talking back to Miss Lockhart? Then we can get down to business.”

“Sorry,” the pair mumbles, averting both their gazes.

They clearly don’t mean it, but it’s enough to unravel the knots of frustration in my shoulders—for now.

I clap my hands to get the rest of the students’ attention. “Follow me.” I spend the next few minutes assigning various jobs, plus handing out supplies to paint the boards and reminding them what it’s supposed to look like. I save what I’m sure is considered the worst for last. “Maple, I have something special for you.” I thrust a broom into her hands.

“Cleanup?” One corner of her lips raises in protest.

“A very important job,” Owen says. “Thanks so much for being amenable.”

Wide-eyed, I slowly face him. I have so many questions, starting with how the hell he knows how to properly use the word amenable. I figured his IQ didn’t reach high enough to house a word like that.

Once they’re all occupied, he and I shift to the side of the room across from Caroline and Austin, who appear rather cozy tonight. Was Maren right? Have they struck up an unlikely friendship… or more? All those girls’ nights I’d planned never happened this week, and I’ve been so out of the loop.

“I, um…” I lick my lips, the impending positive words of appreciation aimed at Owen already sour before they leap out of my mouth. “Thanks for sticking up for me. They can be extra savage sometimes,” I manage.

As he turns his eyes to me, my breath hitches. I’ve never been this close to Owen, and for the first time, I notice the hazel streaks in his irises. They burst like fireworks among the green chaos.

And my heart does something terrifying… it freaking flutters.

chapter

five

OWEN

My throat constricts from the way Addie looks at me—as if she’s seeing me for the first time. It hits me in the chest differently than when we fight.

This is… intimate, in a weird, unsettling way.

Without another word from either of us, she joins Caroline on the other side of the room, while I stand frozen, my tongue in a knot. It’s alarming when she’s nice to me, which has happened a total of once.

This was it. This was the one and only time she’s been decent, and she stumbled over the phrase thank-you like a baby first learning to talk.

Instead of any pleasantries, Addie Lockhart usually gives me a specific kind of lip twitch that reaches all the way up to her eyes like a smile might. It’s an inherent, instinctive response of unadulterated irritation.

It’s one she seems to reserve just for me.

I definitely don’t catch this particular bounce in the corner of her mouth when Paul, the music teacher, practices his clarinet in the teacher’s lounge, or when Justine, the librarian, drinks a glass of diluted apple cider vinegar every other afternoon. Both should warrant a twitch from Ms. Better Than Everyone, but according to her, I’m worse than Music McGee and Smelly Cider.

I check to ensure the students are diligently working, then make my way toward the rest of the chaperones. It’s like I’m back in high school with my old classmates, although I remember much less stench. Part of the smell could be coming from me, though. I didn’t have time to shower before I got here after basketball practice, since I was already late, and I’m pretty sure my sister all the way in Savannah can smell me.

“Threatening them with a ban from the dance is as sinister as it is genius,” I tell Addie. “Is it even a real possibility?”

“All that matters is that they think it is.” She shrugs, and her stone-cold poker face is positively bone-chilling.

“You should coach basketball with us,” I say as we huddle off to the side and away from the students grumbling over how badly this “blows.” At least they’re working, though. “If you could get them in line like you do these kids, we’d undoubtedly make it to state this year.”

She still doesn’t look at me as she clips, “I’m not surprised such a concept is difficult for you.”

“And why is that?”

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