Page 7 of Gifts

I raise both brows this time and widen my eyes but don’t move. “Still me.”

She looks over at the desk where the three secretaries are watching us with a huge amount of curiosity.

“Of course.” Her voice changes, back to business, when she puts one sexy-heeled foot in front of the other to offer me her hand for the second time. “Ms. Lockhart, Emerson’s counselor.”

I give her small hand a squeeze and enjoy her touch for the second time. “Ms. Lockhart. Good to see you again.”

She doesn’t let go of my hand, but when the bell rings through the building, she finally releases me and gives her head a little shake. “If you’ll follow me to my office, we can speak there.”

I hold my hand out low. “Lead the way.”

She turns and I follow, reaching for the door. Once it’s open, the hustle and chatter of hundreds of students heading to their next classes fills the air. I follow through the hallway as teenagers greet her.

“Hi, Miss Lockhart.”

“Hiya, Mrs. Lockhart.”

“Miz Lockhart, what-up?”

She greets them all with warm smiles. At least she did when I wasn’t staring at her ass as I followed her through the crowded halls. I don’t remember the last time anyone has held my attention like this.

I shouldn’t say that. The last time was Saturday night when I was changing a tire on the side of the road. But before then—I can’t remember.

When we make it to the Counseling Center, she reaches for the door and I hold it as she passes. Walking through another reception area with a few students waiting around, she leads me to an office tucked off to the side.

“Please, have a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod, following her in, taking a seat across from her desk. When I hear the door close behind me, I find myself alone with Mrs, Ms, Miss, or Miz Lockhart.

*****

Keelie

What are the fucking odds? It’s him, Mister I’m So Hot—I Don’t Need Hummus as an Accessory.

Or, Mister I’m So Hot—I Can Change a Tire in Two Point Five Seconds Flat.

Or, Mister I’m So Hot—My Smile Lines Make Me Hotter.

But at least now I have a real name. Mister I’m So Hot—My Name is Interesting … Asa Hollingsworth.

Fuck, Keelie. Pull it together.

I take a breath but don’t get a word in when he starts, “How’s your head?”

I stop, surprised by his question. Bringing my hand up to my temple, the memory of hitting my head Saturday night returns. My bump is gone and even the bruise is starting to fade—nothing a little concealer can’t hide. “I’m all good. The swelling is gone and I don’t think I lost too many brain cells.”

“Did your Saturday improve or are you still a Saturday-hater?”

So much for simply discussing Emerson and being done with it.

When I sit at my desk across from him, those hazel eyes I found so intriguing the other night do funny things to my insides as he intently watches me lower to my seat. I ignore his question, and instead offer him my gratitude again. “Thanks again for your help with the tire.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I narrow my eyes and pause.

“You still a Saturday-hater?”

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