Page 19 of Ward Willing
Me.
I push the image of her sultry expression out of my mind and refocus.
“We’ll see,” I answer Scotty, crossing my arms. “I’m having a colleague grade her poems, so she won’t get preferential treatment. But yes, she probablywillget an easy A,” I add, looking at Zoe now.
I swear I see a faint pink color brush over her cheeks.
Yesterdaywasthe surprise of a lifetime when she informed me that she would be one of my students this semester, and I quickly realized that having her in my class was going to be the death of me.
A slow, torturous death.
Which is pretty much what had been happening to me for the last twelve months.
Everything changed between us that night in Catalina. I’d replayed everything about that night over and over in my mind so many times, but the details were always so blurry. The guilt stuck with me, though, and I’d completely obliterated any chance of it repeating by not drinking around her, and also ensuring we were never alone for too long.
The frenetic air between us was like a ticking time bomb, and every look, gesture, and touch sent me back to that night, threatening my self-control.
Most of the time, we interacted like we always did—cordial, friendly, comfortable. But every once in a while, I caught her looking at me.Notin a cordial way.
We never talk about that night, and she changes the subject anytime the trip comes up. I’m not about to push it. Obviously we’d had too much to drink, so who could blame us?
But somethinghadshifted between us.
Alcohol makes for loose lips and loose lips sink ships.
The fucking edibles didn’t help, either.
Zoe swaps the plates out as Scotty and I have a staring contest. I get the feeling he knows I don’t like him. He seems to fidget a lot when I’m around, which always gives me a rush of adrenaline-fueled triumph.
He finally breaks eye contact and clears his throat.
Again.
As the second plate finishes warming, the two of them start eating at the counter.
“Oh my god,” Zoe moans, taking a bite of chicken. “Your roast chicken is my favorite, Liam,” she adds, smiling at me.
“What aboutmychicken?” Scotty whines, referencing the fried chicken stand where he works.
“Aw, babe. Your chicken is good, too.” She stands on her tip toes and kisses him briefly, though that’s a brush off if I ever saw one.
Scotty takes a massive bite. “Damn. This chicken slaps, though. Great job, Mr. R,” he mumbles between chewing.
Zero manners.
I arch a brow at the idiot eating my chicken as Zoe smirks. Our eyes meet, and it’s only then that I notice the purple bags under her eyes, and the way her hair is pulled back and wrapped around one of the pens she’s always stealing from me.
“How was your day?” I ask Zoe, watching her devour her meal.
“Fine,” she answers after swallowing a bite. “Nearly done with my political science essay,” she adds, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Butsomeonedistracted me,” she adds, rolling her eyes at Scotty.
I glower at him, and he looks away uncomfortably.
“I’m glad I never decided to finish college,” Scotty muses, chewing loudly. “Too much work.”
“What a surprise,” I grumble under my breath, narrowing my eyes.
Zoe’s eyes flash as they bore into mine. “Liam,” she warns.
