Page 98 of Panty Dropper

CHAPTER 42

Reagan

“Five a.m. In the morning.”

“I know, Nadia. Believe me. I know.” I yawned.

“I mean…I don’t even know which one of those words to emphasize more, five or morning. Both of them are equally horrifying.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Reagan, my parents were dead set on one thing for my future. I was either gonna be a doctor or a lawyer. Do you know why I defied them both and chose teacher?”

“Because you wanted to make a difference with the youth of today?”

“It’s too early for humor.”

“It’s never too early for humor,” I countered.

From the glare she gave me, Nadia didn’t appreciate it. “Because the school bell rings at eight a.m.” she said in exasperation.

“I know, and because you’re a teacher, you are on spring break, which means you can take a nap later,” I pointed out.

“But you can’t. How are you this awake?”

“You know I wake up at the same time every morning.”

“Still?” she asked.

It was a phenomenon that she’d been intrigued by when we’d shared a dorm room in college. Every day, no matter what, I woke up at five twelve in the morning. Which meant, technically, I would’ve been able to get a little bit more sleep this morning if I’d wanted to, but not much. Not that it would’ve mattered.

The truth was, the second I closed my eyes, all I could see was Billy and Daisy having sex in the supply closet. It’s been three days since I found out about the hookup and for some inexplicable reason; I couldn’t seem to get over it.

Billy had called and texted. He’d even showed up at Mrs. B’s with flowers and I’d pretended not to be there. I just couldn’t bring myself to face him. On Saturday I was supposed to be moving into the house he’d shown me, and I was coming up with excuses not to.

I was being ridiculous. I knew that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. We were not in any sort of relationship. Not now, and certainly not in the hour before we’d even met!

I had no idea why I felt so betrayed. It was strange that I was honestly more upset about Billy hooking up with Daisy than I’d been when I’d walked in on Blaine.

It made zero sense.

“It’s too early,” Nadia whined as her head fell back against the headrest. “Why in the hell am I in a car with you at this ungodly hour, driving out to Harlan Mitchell’s place to work out?” She said the phrase like it was a bad word.

I looked over at her in the passenger seat and grinned brightly. “Because it’s bathing suit season?”

“Nice try. Guess again.”

“Umm…because Cheyenne roped me into it, and I guilted you into it?”

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“It won’t be. But I’ll stop bitching the minute we step out of the car. Promise.” She sat up. “Okay. Remind me again what this thing is we’re going to. I kinda mentally checked out after I heard the time.”

“Cheyenne explained it as a small-town take on boot-camp workouts, or CrossFit. Something like that. We were talking about missing some things from city living, like green juice and group fitness—”

“One of the many reasons I’ll never understand city folk. But please, continue.”

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