Page 29 of All In Good Time
Becca looked her over. Only then did she notice that Elaine wasn’t wearing any pants and only an overly large shirt covered up her bottom half. Her hair was mussed up, her face a bit flushed, and on her neck was a fresh bruise the size of someone’s mouth.
Oh. My. God.
Becca’s face heated, and she turned away from Elaine and toward the living room. She had interrupted something unholy. Jesus. There was no coming back from it, so the only thing she could do was pretend not to notice as Elaine walked up a set of stairs and said something to someone who had a distinctly masculine voice.
Jesus Christ, he was still here.
Becca looked at the clock. 4:57 p.m.
This was her own damn fault for always arriving early to things.
She distracted her mind by laying out her supplies, paying more attention to lining up her pencils and finding the assigned textbook pages than she normally would.
When Elaine came back down the stairs, Becca panicked and started explaining the study plan before the girl had even walked into her line of sight.
“So, I was thinking we could split the work in half. I could take chapters one through three and you could take four through six, then we reconvene, put our notes together, and get this whole thing done tonight. I bet it wouldn’t take more than an hour.” She was so busy flipping through the marked pages, she didn’t realize Elaine hadn’t joined her on the couch. “What do you—”
Her words caught in surprise when she looked up at where Elaine stood in the entrance of the living room. Except Elaine wasn’t there at all.
Derek was, though, and he was grinning like a fool.
Even more mortifying was that he wore the same shirt Elaine had been wearing just a few minutes ago.
“As much as I’d love to take notes next to you for an hour, I doubt I’d be any help.” His amusement was palpable.
Becca’s cheeks were most definitely red.
“Where’s Elaine?” Her voice was weak, drowned by mortification.
He jerked his head to motion to the stairs. “She’s showering.”
Of course, she was. Because that now meant that Becca was alone with Derek Stokes in some random classmate’s home, right after they…did stuff.
He walked into the room, until he was close enough to settle onto the floral couch next to Becca. The cushions dipped as he sunk into the empty spot. She averted her eyes and pretended to focus on some random page in the textbook.
“Elaine did mention something about some dumb project she had to do with some chick in her class.” She could feel his eyes on her face, even though she avoided them. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
“It’s not like I chose to be her partner,” she mumbled, and Derek chuckled.
“No, I wouldn’t choose her either.”
Becca rolled her eyes. “Sure you wouldn’t.”
“Ooh, she’s got a bite,” he teased.
Becca might have teased back, but the mortification from right now, and a lingering sense of humiliation from the morning encounter with Brent and April, set her mood with Derek.
“Aren’t you leaving?” Her voice had more snap than she meant, which part of her wanted to take back. The other part wanted Derek to leave so he couldn’t see how embarrassed she really was. They barely knew each other anyway. Why was she so worked up?
He was silent for a moment, and neither of them moved. His teasing smirk dropped.
After what felt like an hour, he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but was interrupted by the heavy steps of Elaine descending the stairs. Becca looked up from her book as Elaine rounded the corner and spotted the two of them sitting on the couch.
A frown twisted Elaine’s face. “Derek, what are you still doing here?”
Like it had never changed, the smirk was back on his face, and he rose from his spot. “Just saying goodbye.”
Becca kept her face neutral as Elaine came up to him, not hesitating to throw herself into his chest, and giving him one last—disgusting—kiss on the lips. Becca averted her eyes, unsure how she would be able to get through the next hour after this. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Derek’s hand settle on Elaine’s shoulder, putting a stop to the PDA.
