I shook my head and pushed the memory away, taking a deep breath of the fresh, sun-soaked spring air. I still got a bit misty thinking about what an emotional roller coaster the past week had been.
Nicola walked past with Luke, and they both smiled at me and waved. I smiled and waved back. A lot of the guys from the football team had been at the fight when the police busted in, and were arrested. Every single one of them had walked away without being charged—thanks to expert lawyers, their parents’ influence, and their enthusiasm to testify against the Frydenbergs. Nicola and I had talked, bitched about Will, and we were cool now.
“Let’s head in.” Amaya picked up her bag, linked arms with Mena, and took the lead. Drew slung an arm over Harlow’s shoulders, and they were cracking jokes and messing around before we even reached the front stairs.
Hendrix threaded his fingers through mine and kissed the top of my head as we followed our friends into the school.
People stared and whispered, none of them daring to come up to us and actually ask about what happened, but by now the whole school knew everything that was public knowledge. The stares and whispers were just as much about the fact that I was walking into school hand in hand with the guy they’d all thought I despised just a week ago. I smiled to myself.
At the start of the hallway where all the seniors’ lockers were, we pulled up short so we wouldn’t collide with Mr. Monroe. He was barreling past—students parting in his wake, some even turning to walk in the opposite direction to avoid him—but he stopped when he spotted us.
“Welcome back, both of you.” His lips twitched slightly in what I thought might constitute a smile. He was in a charcoal sweater, the shirt underneath buttoned all the way to his throat.
We mumbled our thanks.
“It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve withdrawn your applications for some of the colleges you applied to,” he said, looking right at me.
“Uh . . . yea . . . yes, sir.” He was an English teacher and not even my English teacher. He must’ve seen the confusion in my eyes.
“Mrs. Fielding is on leave, and I’ve been asked to step in and assist for a short time.” His lips pressed together slightly—clearly he wasn’t thrilled to be helping with careers counseling. “Please come see me if you’d like to discuss options. You too, Mr. Hawthorn.”
With another tiny smile, he stalked off again, clutching a pile of papers at his side.
Hendrix and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then burst into laughter. It was so good to be back—hanging out with my friends, dealing with Mr. Monroe’s moods, getting ready for classes. As much as I’d felt suffocated by some of those same things in the past few months, the familiarity of it all was weirdly bringing me comfort.
The others had already dispersed, so we hurried off to our own lockers. I quickly grabbed my books and rushed over to Hendrix’s side just as he closed his.
Pulling his shoulder down, I leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and he groaned low, gripping my hip and moving in close. “Why would you tell me that? I really don’t want to spend all day with a semi, Donna.”
There was an edge of annoyance in his voice, but his gaze was pure lust.
“Who said anything about all day?” I whispered against his lips. Then, without kissing him, I started to back away. “Meet me at our spot at lunch.”
He frowned. With a grin, I turned and rushed off to class, fully aware he had to go in the opposite direction or risk being late.
“What spot?” he called after me. “Donna! What spot?”
I rounded the corner and picked up my pace. He’d figure it out once the lust cleared a little and he could think straight. Now I just had to make sure I made it to the little room at the back of the auditorium before he did.