Page 12 of Just This Once

Rachel’s wide eyes spurred me to continue. “I saw his uniform on the floor and Iknew.” I blew out a breath. “And instead of talking about it, I completely freaked out.” I scrunched my face. “I gave him ahigh fiveand left.” I buried my face in my hands.

“You didwhat?” Rachel’s jaw hung open.

“Yeah, a high freaking five. And then I got dressed faster than I ever have in my entire life, left his house, and never looked back.”

Rachel nodded and laughed, then sat back. “So you ghosted him.”

My head reared back. “I didn’t ghost him. I just... never spoke to him again.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t leave your number?” Her bland look was unimpressed.

I cringed. “I practically ran out the front door as he was still zipping up his pants.” Shame coursed through me. I was a grown woman, fully capable of having a no-strings one-night stand, but I couldn’t help but feelbadfor Whip. He’d been charming and funny, and leaving him without any kind of explanation left a slimy feeling in my gut. The fact that my immediate reaction was torunspoke volumes for how closed off I’d become.

Maybe Craig was right about me after all. Damn it.

My only hope was that my stepfather was right, and a man like Whip wouldn’t give me a second thought. Which, come tothink of it, made my complicated feelings about the whole thing onlyworse.

I folded my arms and dropped my head to my forearms with a groan.

The server set down a round of waters for our table along with our drinks, and Rachel plucked it up and took a sip. “Well, there are worse things than a high five, you know.”

I wanted to beanywhereother than hiding at a back table at the Grudge, letting the shame of my awkward exit wash over me.

Rachel bumped my shoulder. “Well, relax, Casper. It looks like you’re off the hook.”

I lifted my head and my stomach pitched. A pretty brunette playfully draped her left arm across Whip’s back. He laughed at something she said and smiled down at her. The look was full of friendliness and affection.

I shouldn’t have cared. I was the one who’d bolted on him, after all, but nausea still rolled through me. My gaze was locked onto them as they engaged in what looked like friendly, comfortable conversation. Whip kicked off the bar and with his brother, along with the mystery woman in tow, headed toward the exit.

I had no right to wonder who she was or whether or not she was going home with him. It was none of my business, but a petty part of me hated her anyway. Between my fresh start and my father, any kind of future with Whip, a one-night stand or otherwise, was completely off the table.

As I watched the trio walk out of the Grudge, I couldn’t help but wonder if things in my life could be different.

Just this once.

SIX

EMILY

“Miss Ward!Michael shoved my pencil up his nose, and now there’s snot on my math page.”

I paused, my nostrils flaring to stifle a grin, and turned to Samantha. “Michael shoved your pencil up his nose and you continued to use it?”

The redhead pouted. “Well, it’smypencil and I have the right to?—”

I held up one hand.I swear, some days it feels like first grade instead of sixth...

“Okay. It’s all right. Why don’t you get a fresh pencil from the jar and throw Michael’s booger pencil in the trash.”

An incredulous look twisted her round features. “But it’s a brand-new pencil. That seems awfully wasteful... are you okay with killing more trees?”

I blinked and offered her a gentle smile. “I think, just this once, we can sacrifice one fresh pencil.”

She scowled but stood from her desk and walked to pitch her pencil into a nearby trash can. I turned back to my class, thankful Samantha’s newfound righteousness hadn’t escalated further—any other day she might have prepared a full-on protest.

I pressed the button at the corner of my desk, letting a doorbell chime ring out to alert my students. “Remember to manage your independent work time well. I will need group four in the back with your writer’s notebook and a pencil.” I raised an eyebrow in Michael’s direction. “A clean one.”

He blushed and gathered his supplies and headed toward the bean-shaped table in the back of the room. I smiled at the young man’s back. With his floppy, unruly brown curls, Michael was one of those students who was tenderhearted, but full of mischief.

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