Page 47 of Please, Sir

I fire off a text.

Lock the door and if your ex shows up, call the police. Or me.

She texts back right away, and I envision her pressed up to the back of the door, nipples poking through my shirt as she smirks, practically melting for me.

I feel that same way about her, even if I don’t wear it as visibly as she does.

Riley

Door is locked. He won’t be back, but thanks for that.

I shove my phone away, and focus on driving home safely. Or as safe as I can with the memory of this evening replaying in my mind.

When I’m inside,shrugging out of my muddy boots, hanging my hat on the wall, Jo Jo appears, in sweatpants and a hoodie, her feet bare, a mug in her hands.

“Where were you?” she asks.

I move to the sink and fill a glass of water, drinking it all in one go, eager to ease the sting of desire from my body. I can’t get Riley off my mind.

“Went for a drive,” I tell her, because that is the truth. I realize it’s stupid to be so focused on making sure I tell her the truth right now when, if I keep seeing Riley, being honest with Jo Jo will be damn near impossible.

“I’m sorry,” she says, the two words tumbling out likeshe’s ripping off a bandaid. I remember that feeling, how much it pains you to apologize to your dad.

I grip the edge of the sink after placing my water glass in the basin. In the window above the kitchen sink, I catch her reflection. She’s watching me, waiting to see how I respond.

With a deep breath, I turn and face her, nodding my head. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I lost my temper.” I don’t make a move to get closer to her, but I do move toward the fridge, pulling out last night’s spaghetti and red sauce. I begin reheating the noodles, and when I see her still standing there, hold out an empty plate. She wrinkles her nose.

“I’m not hungry but… I–”

She falters, as if the courage has drained, or maybe just the desire to talk to me waned. Either way, she barely glances up at me when she says, “Just, I’m sorry about the piercing.” She stuffs a bag of Doritos under her arm, grabs a Coke from the fridge and treads down the hall, the slam of her door the new equivalent of “goodnight Dad, see you tomorrow morning.”

I eat dinner alone, and don’t text Riley again.

It’s too soon.

After the dishes are done I find myself in the garage, at my work bench, a bag full of finished goods ready for Hudson. I glance at my watch and find it’s only ten after eleven. Loose strips of leather are cut, and I have a blueprint in mind.

While crafting the perfect flogger, I think about Riley and how she fell to her knees for me. I smooth my fingers down each tailpiece, the leather supple beneath my touch.

She’s gorgeous, and she’d look sexy as hell with these marks along her thighs and belly.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Like hellI’m going to avoid the break room. It’s for everyone, and if Cadence fucking Caine thinks she’s gonna dump a crusty Yoplait on my head to keep me out forever, she’s got another thing coming.

I also kind of jog across campus to get to the break room first so she can be the one who gets there second.

I’ve started to sit near her, too. I could bethe bigger person and invite her to sit with me, Coach Dean, Lori the chemistry teacher, Lena the language arts teacher and Denae.

I could, but in the words of my fearless leader and personal friend,fuck her.

Leah isn’t wrong.

If someone wants to extend an olive branch and try to show a grown ass adult all the ways in which they are terrible, let them. But that person is not me.

“Hey there, Miss Riley,” Lori says, coming into the breakroom in her bright orange skirt.

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