If I ace this class.
I don’t hear the bell until people begin to file out, and I shoot out of my seat, gathering my things.
“Ms. Chambers, may I have a word?”
My whole body freezes in place, and my eyes snap to Mr. Cooper. He’s sitting behind his desk, hands clasped in front of him.
Great.
I wait until everyone is gone to walk to his desk, feeling the embarrassment flush my chest. It’s bad enough that we don’t get along—but does he really have to be so handsome while also being such an asshole? It makes the fact that he hates me that much worse, because I almost can’t take him seriously. Early forties, dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin…
And today he’s wearing a white button-up that’s rolled up to his elbows, and black trousers. He remains one of the cool kids on campus because he’s the only adult I know who can pull off lace up boots. Everyone loves him and wants to take his class—much to my chagrin. I tried to avoid it like the plague, but alas, he’s the only history teacher that teaches seniors, so I got stuck in this class.
Still, does he have to be so pretty?
I shake the thought away as I approach him. “Yes?” I ask, crossing my arms.
He tracks my movement with his dark eyes, and his jaw feathers as he leans back slightly. As he crosses his arms and leans back, my eyes scan the way his shirt clings to his large biceps, and the way he has the top two buttons on his collar unbuttoned; an attempt to seem more casual to the students, I’m sure.
All I can seem to look at, though, is the dark hair peeking through the top of his shirt.
“It’s the third time you’ve been tardy since Thanksgiving. Felicity tells me you’re applying to NYU?”
Traitor.
My best friend is a traitor.
Oh, and did I mention Mr. Cooper is my best friend’s dad?
Yeah.
“I was thinking about it,” I answer casually. I don’t tell him about the major I know I’ll be applying for, or the fact that I spent three hours last night on Google Street View near the school in Manhattan, daydreaming about living there. My application is nearly ready to send in. My essay is airtight. All I’m waiting for is my final report card.
I’ve also been staying up late, doing extra credit for all my classes—including this one. He must know, because I’ve emailed him in the middle of the night the last three weekends in a row. In fact, despite him thinking I’m a bad influence on Felicity, I’ve really buckled down this semester and gotten my grades under control.
Yet, he’s focusing on those three minutes like it’s life or death.
“And you realize I will have to start docking your grade for tardiness?”
I clench my fists at my sides. “I didn’t realize being three minutes late would affect my test scores,” I hiss.
Mr. Cooper sits up straighter. “If you want to challenge the way I grade you, please feel free to discuss it with the principal. But you’ll be hard pressed to find someone within the administration who doesn’t agree with me.” He crosses his arms. “Why were you late today, Wren?”
The way he says my first name feels too intimate for this conversation—like he’s using the fact that he’s my best friend’s dad against me. Like he’s trying to be my friend.
But fuck that.
He’s never liked me, and I’ve never liked him. It’s easier if we continue with our polite yet antagonistic existence.
“Like I told you, my car wouldn’t start.”
Because I was too busy fooling around with Taylor Harris, but okay.
Something flashes in his gaze, but he doesn’t say anything as he nods and sighs.
“You should probably have your car looked at.” His eyes find mine through his lashes, and I swallow nervously. Again, it’s like he can tell I’m lying.
“I will.” I stand up straighter and adjust my shoulder bag. “Is that all?”
His jaw ticks once.
Twice.
To the beat of the clock—like he wants to say more but chooses not to.
Tick, tick, tick.
“Yes, that’s all.”
I don’t say anything as I twist around and walk toward the door. He’s playing nice today, but I’ve seen the heavy sighs, the pissed off expressions, the exasperation on his face on a near daily basis. If it’s not at school, it’s at his house, where he’s deemed me a bad influence on his daughter more times than I can count. So, while he might be humoring me right now, I know for a fact that he can’t wait until this semester is over and he won’t have to see me every day.
“By the way, next time you decide to lie about why you were late to class, you might want to be sure that your teacher doesn’t see you mounting Mr. Harris in your car.”
Each word clanks through me, one syllable at a time. As his words sink in, my heart begins to hammer in my chest. I’m about to turn around and give him a snarky retort when he brushes past me, scowling.
“Have a good day, Wren.”
And then he’s gone.
These next two weeks can’t come soon enough. He won’t be my teacher anymore, thanks to our block schedule, and I can disappear into anonymity and only see him when I see Felicity.
Thank fucking god.
Chapter 2
Wren
* * *
I’m still fuming as I look for Felicity after school. Even though Calculus and Anatomy should’ve been palate cleansers when it comes to Mr. Cooper, I couldn’t quite let go of the disappointment I could’ve sworn I heard in his voice.
Have a good day, Wren.
Why was I even trying to prove anything, anyways? His opinion outside of the classroom didn’t matter. So why did I care so much?
I see Felicity texting frantically on her phone as she leans against her locker. Smiling, I walk up to her, tamping down my irritation directed at her dad.
“Hey.” My voice surprises her, because she jumps a little bit and looks up at me with bright eyes.
Stunning.
My best friend is stunning. Dark, curly hair, light brown eyes, the same golden skin as her father…
Stop it, Wren.
“Oh my god, guess what? You are going to die when I tell you.” She grins, biting her bottom lip. “My mom can’t take me over break anymore!” she squeals.
I furrow my brows. “And that’s a good thing… why?”
Felicity and her mom get along just fine, and I know she was looking forward to seeing her for a whole two weeks…
“I mean, I’m sad I won’t see her, but I guess she has to work overtime and shit, so it’s fine. I’ll see her soon enough. But this means I can go to Prague with my dad!”
I’d nearly forgotten that Mr. Cooper had booked a two-week trip to Prague a few months ago. He’d made our class write papers on Bohemia because he was so excited.
“Ugh, I’m jealous,” I whine as we walk to the parking lot. “We’re going to stay with Grandma Mildred in Long Island. It’ll be a total bore, like always.”
“Perspective, remember?” she says sweetly, linking arms with me. “I’d kill for a close-knit family like yours.”
It’s true. As boring as Christmas break will be, I can’t help but feel grateful that we do the same thing every year. Felicity has a good relationship with her dad, too, but I know it’s exhausting having to shuffle between two households every other weekend—especially between New York, where we live, and Boston, where her mom lives. Plus, at least with my family, I always know what to expect. Felicity’s mom is a nurse, so she often has to work overtime at the last minute and can’t take Felicity. I know it wears on her.