Page 31 of The Thought of You

My old friend’s face contorts as he studies me, and something like jealousy clenches my stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never been okayer,” I say, punctuating the non-word with a grunt.

Then I walk away before I do or say anything else embarrassing.

There’s also the fact that Lockhart would have my balls if she heard me making up words. This bad habit of mine gives the English teacher hives, which she’s made clear to me on many occasions.

And Bond wants to ask her out.

The chili I just devoured wants to make its way up my throat, and it’s not because I don’t want my friend hooking up with the woman who hates me. If this were the case, my uncomfortable feelings would be a lot easier to navigate, that’s for sure.

My heart thunders, and the vibrations echo in my head as I put distance between me, Bond, and my sudden nausea. The last time I felt like this was when I suffered from food poisoning, and I might even prefer it if that were the case.

Unfortunately for me, it has nothing to do with the contents of my stomach and everything to do with the idea of Lockhart on a date with Bond.

They’re both single and have every right to go out. I’d go so far as to say the tightly wound woman could use a night out, too. The word around the teacher’s lounge is that she hasn’t been with a guy since Pangea exploded. Not in so many words, but that’s the gist I gathered one afternoon.

I wasn’t listening out of curiosity, either. It just so happened I was pouring myself a cup of coffee while Justine and Gemma were gossiping—very loudly.

In any case, it would do the rest of us a huge kindness for Lockhart to enjoy some relief of the romantic variety. It seems she takes her frustration out on the rest of us, and that’s not healthy.

But that just makes Bond asking her out so much worse for me, for some godforsaken reason I can’t make sense of.

The thought of Addie must bring me straight to her, as I come to a stop next to her and a large pot of chili.

She blinks up at me, and for the first time, I notice a smattering of freckles across her nose. They’re fewer and farther in between one another across her cheeks, until they completely fade underneath the corners of her deep blue eyes.

The tip of her nose raises higher as she squares her shoulders, and memories of high school slam into me.

Some of the kids used to compare her to the residents of Whoville because of this nose, but I always found it endearing.

In truth, I always thought she was cute, but since I moved back, that word isn’t right for her. It doesn’t encompass the entirety of the woman in front of me.

“Don’t even think about stealing my chili,” she clips and waves with her free hand over the spread next to us. “There’s plenty to go around, so get your own.”

She sidesteps me and makes a beeline for an empty seat at a table, where Maren sets her stuff down. But before Addie reaches her friend, I practically leap in front of her.

And my gaze lands on her sexy-as-hell denim-clad legs.

Jesus—I’ve never seen such a simple material look so damn good.

This is a bad fucking idea, but the words roll off my tongue like a golf ball racing downhill and right into a bunker.

“You and Bond, huh?” I force a wiggle of my brow, but the movement doesn’t feel natural.

Her own eyes widen with horror. “What? Where did you hear that?”

“He told me he asked you out…” I search her expression, but the only thing residing there is confusion—and more horror. “You two will make the cutest darn?—”

She cuts me off with an exasperated exhale and sets her bowl down. With a murderous glare, she shoves me backward. “Come with me,” she demands and drags me out of the cafeteria, her fingernails digging into my forearm as she leads us into the hallway.

She doesn’t stop until she pushes me into a supply closet and shuts the door with more force than seems necessary.

The private room muffles the sounds of the chili dinner and—did I hear a harmonica somewhere? The darkness hides what rests in here, but there’s no covering the foul smell of mop water. It singes my nostrils.

I’m still reeling from the surprising strength on such a small person, but Addie is definitely no delicate flower. I shouldn’t be caught off guard by her physical strength—it tracks with the rest of her.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

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