Page 40 of The Grump I Loathe
“I’ve got the data to back it up.”
“I’d like to see this data,” I said, falling into her again. The green of her eyes. The ease of her smile. The joy that fit around her like a second skin. It was like that night at the club. I was suddenly on my feet, walking toward her. I wanted to put my hands on those hips, feel the softness of her curves, listen to her go on about game design and marvel at the way she could weave ideas together.
“Then you’ll have to sign up for Eddie’s school of fun and fancy,” she said. Her gaze dropped briefly, looking at my lips. “I think you could use some lessons on being more fun. And lucky for you, I’m running a sale. Act now and get them while they’re hot.”
My thoughts skidded to a halt as I remembered the dancing lessons she’d offered to give me.Shit,what the hell was I doing? I was playing with boundaries I had no business playing with. I couldn’t keep putting myself in this situation. Eddie was fire, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to get singed. Not to mention the no-dating policy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head as she took in my pinched expression.
“You’re fifteen years my junior,” I said sharply, clearing my throat and taking a step back. “I don’t need lessons from you of any kind, Edith.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she gave me an intense look. “That’s not what it seemed like this afternoon. But good to know.” She handed me the marker, brushing by me so closely I could feel the heat of her—there and gone again. “I’ll let you get back to work,boss.”
12
EDDIE
“Come on, you beautiful hunk of junk,” I said, willing the vehicle into the parking lot of St. Orwell Prep before it died. “Just a little further.”
I’d been through this song and dance before. The battery warning light would flash, the car would sputter like some grungy beast waking from a nap, and then it would give one final lurch before?—
“Shit,” I muttered as the car died halfway between the parking lot entrance and the front steps. Could have been worse. I patted the dashboard. “Solid effort. We’ll get you a jump.”
That was a later problem though. First, I had an entire field day to chaperone—including making sure Grace and Alannah kept things friendly instead of turning today into aHunger Games-style battle royale.
There hadn’t been any more calls into the office after the suspension was over, but things between the two girls still seemed tense, to the point where their teacher had “suggested”—i.e., decreed—having chaperones from each family to keep an eye on things. Apparently,neither Dad nor Valentina could get the time off work, so I’d stepped up.
Alannah shoved the front door of the school open, waving at me as I got out of the car.
“Eddie!” she cried excitedly, racing down the stairs.
She did a cartwheel as she neared me so fast she was a blur of purple sparkle, dressed head to toe in purple team colors, her cheeks covered in purple glitter. “Hey, Lana.”
“Oops, sorry.” She looked a little sheepish. “Mom said I’m not supposed to be doing tricks this close to my gymnastics competition. It’s showy, and I might get injured.”
“A little flaunting never hurt anyone.” I nudged her as we headed into the school. “So, let me guess…” I gave her a wry grin. “We’re repping team purple?”
Alannah grinned, latching onto my arm as we pushed through the door. “We have team colors for you too!”
I let her drag me into a locker room where I was hit with the smell of cheap vanilla body spray and a half dozen high-pitched squeals of delight.
“This is the team,” Alannah said proudly, putting her hands on her hips. “Okay, girls! Time to purple-fy Eddie!”
More squeals. There was no use in fighting the chaos, and I grinned at the delight on Alannah’s face as her friends stuffed me into a purple T-shirt before decking me out in glittery eyeshadow, temporary tattoos of purple unicorns, and a beaded necklace that said TEAM PURPLE.
“What’s our competition looking like?” I asked as my hair was braided with a sparkly ribbon running through it.
“Grace’s team is definitely the one to beat,” one of the girls said, popping into my line of sight. “You know Grace? She’s the one Alannah?—”
“She knows who Grace is,” Alannah huffed.
“They’re team green,” another girl said. “But not, like, a nice green. Their shirts are the color of baby puke.”
The girls giggled.
“They have the fastest sprinters, though,” another girl said, looking concerned.
Alannah frowned at me, her eyebrows knitting together. “She’s right.”
