Steven licks my palm until I pull away. “Fine.” He groans and I grin at him. “Anyway, you’re late for class, babe.”
I freeze. “What?!”
“It’s 8:40,” he says.
“Shit!” I start racing around for clothes, while Steven calmly packs my bag with my laptop and notes. I yank on a denim skirt, a pastel yellow top, brown boots. He kneels to help me pull the boots on while I brush my hair. Then I sprint to the bathroom to brush my teeth. My eyes linger on the drawer where I shoved an old eyeglass frames the day I moved into this apartment. I let out a sigh, close it again, and walk away without taking them.
When I return, Steven is on the couch with Fleur asleep in his lap, Maggie beside him watchingExtreme Couponing. I kiss Maggie’s hair; she grimaces and shoves me away. “Keep your disgusting lip gloss out of my hair.”
“I paid good money for this!”
“How much?”
“Three dollars at Target. On sale.”
We laugh until my stomach hurts. I lean down to kiss Steven instead. “Sorry for snapping. I just hate being late.”
He grins. “First of all, I’m not mad. Second, it’s college. A few minutes won’t kill you.”
“I just don’t want Turner hating me before internship lists come out—”
He cuts me off with another kiss. “Go. I’ll drive Maggie to get her car.”
“God, thank you. You’re amazing.” I kiss him once more, scratch Fleur behind the ears, and run for the door. “How do I look?” I shout as it swings shut.
“Hot!” Maggie calls.
“Gorgeous!” Steven adds.
-*?? . ??? ??.-*??
“He hates me!” I groan in mock despair as I storm out of class. Sam snickers, sipping his orange soda. “You should stop trying. Turner’s an asshole.”
I shove his arm. “Is he such an asshole that you went to him first for internship referrals?”
Sam shrugs, grinning. “He’s a bastard, a jerk, a complete—” He’s still listing insults when I notice Mr. Turner himself standing behind him. I frantically motion for Sam to shut up, but he only raises an eyebrow and keeps going. “What? I’m right! He’s a miserable old man who wakes up every morning just to mess with a bunch of twenty-year-olds who don’t give a damn about his midlife crisis. One day I’ll forget he’s a teacher and smash my computer over his head. That said, he’s one of the best teachers in the department. So of course I asked him for internship contacts. Doesn’t mean you should let him treat you like garbage though. You should tell him to fuck off, Nova. Tell him to—he’s behind me, isn’t he?”
I nod slowly.
Sam pivots toward Turner.
I plaster on a smile at our teacher and Sam adjusts his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose—yes, sunglasses, indoors, after a three-hour seminar. He insists they make him look mysterious and sexy.
“Mr. Turner! What a surprise to see you here!”
“In the hallway? After my lecture?” He crosses his arms. Well, when I was a kid I thought teachers lived at school. Maybe don’t say that out loud, Nova.
“Oh, right, the lecture! Well, it’s been a whole five minutes since we last saw you, hasn’t it? What a pleasure to meet again. Sam and I were just... joking! Yeah, April Fools’!”
Sam nearly chokes on his laugh but plays along. “Exactly. Just a joke. I don’t really think you’re a bastard.”
We both know he does.
“Yes, so funny!” I add, forcing a laugh. “We cracked up! It was—”
“Nova,” Mr. Turner interrupts, arching a brow. “It’s the fifteenth of May.”
I freeze. “Is it? Wow, time flies when you’re busy being a model student. Anyway—goodbye! See you at the exam!” I grab Sam’s wrist and bolt for the exit.
