Page 42 of Teacher's Pet

"Something tells me no part of this will be small," I scoff, scanning Walker’s extensive list of items for tonight’s so called get together. From the sheer amount of alcohol he’s stocking up on, it’s clear this isn’t about socializing, it’s about getting blackout drunk.

"Alright, fine, it’s a party," Walker admits over the phone. "But if you come, you can bring Elijah and Megan to make you feel less out of place."

I arch a brow. "Out of place?"

"I just mean… parties probably aren’t your thing-"

"Walker, I was sneaking out and going behind my parents’ backs before I even had my learner’s permit." I snort.

The words taste bitter the second they leave my mouth.

One of my biggest regrets.

There was so much time I could have had with my dad before he got sick. Time I wasted chasing cheap thrills.

Clearing my throat, I force the thought away.

"I've had my fair share of house partythrills."

Walker’s tone shifts, turning suggestive. "Do tell. What is this thrill you speak of?"

Smirking, I play along.

"Let’s just say, after four good shots, I’ll happily ditch your ass and take my turn playing spin the bottle with the hottest girl in the room."

Alcohol has always been the great equalizer of my attraction. I like to pretend I prefer men, but a few drinks in, and that false certainty unravels fast.

High school proved that well enough. One too many shots, a five-minute make out session with Erica that escalated to hands under shirts and fingers exploring unfamiliar territory.

But then my dad got sick, and suddenly, the idea of sneaking out to get wasted at some stranger’s house felt like a betrayal.

Back then, Cole and Erica were my constants. My stability.

And looking back, I should have seen it. The way Cole was happier watching Erica and me make out than he ever was alone with me.

The signs were all there, the cracks forming long before they split wide open.

Who knew he’d use my dad’s cancer as the perfect excuse to take advantage of my distance?

"So, you’re telling me there’s a chance I might get some girl-on-girl action-"

"Bye, Walker!" Megan chirps sweetly before ending the call, cutting off whatever gross comment he was about to make.

Blinking as she tosses my phone onto her bed, she plants her hands on her hips with a glare so sharp it nearly cuts me.

"What was that about?" I ask.

Her expression hardens. "I don’t like him."

"You don’tlikehim?" I scoff.

"You heard me, Ana." There’s zero playfulness in her voice now. "I don’t like him. I don’t know much about Cole, and thankGodfor that, because from everything you’ve told me, I’d probably punch him in the face. But Walker? From the outside looking in, he seems like nothing more than a rich, narcissistic boy having fun with his new plaything."

Her words land like a gut punch.

Because deep down?

I’m terrified she might be right.

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