“Why’s he here?”
“Can we pack up? The bell’s in five minutes.”
“I—” A grunt. “Can’t open this.”
“My name is Colt,” he says. “I do play for the Sierra and boys can be gross, but they usually grow out of that.” He winks at me again and it’s all I can do to keep from swooning. “And we’ll have to agree to disagree on the hockey is boring front.” His mouth kicks up. “I kind of like it.”
The room falls quiet, and I’m certainly not about to be the one to snap out of my stupor enough to break the silence.
Colt is the only one who’s nonplussed.
He moves over to Adrian and tears open the packet of candy. “Wash your hands before you eat it,” he says softly.
“Can I have your autograph?” Simon asks.
A shrug. “Sure, if you somehow think that it’s worth something.”
I frown—because why wouldn’t it be worth something?
But the kids keep talking before I can truly process his statement.
“My dad said that the goal you had in the shootout was the best thing he’s ever seen.” A grin. “Well, he said it was the best something thing he’s ever seen, but Ms. C gets mad when I use those words in school.”
“Probably a good idea not to use them then,” Colt says dryly, flicking his gaze toward me, eyes sparkling with humor. “Not a good idea to make Ms. C mad.”
“You’re telling me,” another of the boys says. “Last time she got mad, we had to do pushups.”
“Yeah?” Another amused look in my direction. “How many did you do?”
“Twenty-two.”
“Impressive.”
“I did twenty-five.”
“Killing it, dude.”
“Well, I only did ten.”
“That’s still good.”
“I did sixteen!”
“Awesome, kiddo.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Adrian says quietly. “I can’t do anything.”
And the room goes still.
Damn.
I open my mouth, mind flicking through responses, trying to find the right one.
But my class beats me to it.
“But you’re like a real-life superhero,” Sylvia says. “You’ve had like a billion surgeries and you’re back in school.”
My eyes burn.
