“Thanks. But.” I start searching for my words. “Nevermind Keola. Thank you for answering. I think I just needed a distraction. I’ll see you this week.” I wait a second before, just in case he wanted to respond.
“You can call on me anytime, angel.” He says, then ending our call.
I let out a breath. I walk back into the house ready to get into bed and erase the day and wanting the month to already end. Saying good night to Finn, I check my messages one last time and low and behold, one unread message.
Grumpy:Always here to be a distraction.
And yet my heart raced for a moment at the thought of him giving me company. A distraction would be nice.
What is wrong with me?
Chapter 12
Lottie
Thankfully,acoupleweekshave gone by as we head to a Thanksgiving break.
The only thing that had been the highlight of the week was when Finn plotted his first prank on Keola.
Yes, I approved it, because I promised he could.
The crafty kid had placed itching powder in the set of gloves that were placed near the snacks. He had laid them out for him.
When Keola had slipped them on, I don’t think he knew what he was getting himself into. I could see Finn's devious grin across his face as both gloves were put on.
You could see the twitching of his palm, him fighting the urge to itch or move his hands.
“God fuck it.” He murmured.
“Language,” one of the younger students scowled at him. “Ms. Lottie, he said a bad word.”
I hid back a chuckle, “Thank you sweetie, I’ll take care of it.” I walked over to him, trying to keep my composure. “Mr. Johnson, is there a problem?”
He looked at me, “Um, yeah. I think your gloves are defective or something.” He started to take one of them off, and a cloud of white dust came out. His eyes got wide.
“Something wrong?”
He brought his hand to his nose, and gave a sniff of the substance. I understood his concern, but it wasn’t what he thought.
“Son of a.” He started, I cut him off “Careful.”
His fingers started to scratch on his palm, his wrist, he started to get frantic, itching both of his palms.
His hands started to get red and full of scratch marks. I started to snicker. He started to look at me like there was a fire in his eyes.
Vengeance.
He started to panic and then move towards the sink, only there was no soap.
Clever kid.
“What’s wrong 5-0? Seems like you’re having some issues over there.” I’ll admit I was being a bit cheeky. But I had to have a laugh and who knows maybe scaring him off will eliminate the feelings and gravitation I was having.
“Where’s the fucking soap?” He growled out.
“It’s not your hands that need cleaning, it's your mouth.” I blurted out.
“Then it would be nice and clean for you.” He smirks back, still panicking over his hands. But my cheeks started to turn red. Heat rising inside of me. I just gawked on him, taking a step back, not knowing that there was a kid’s chair there that I ran into.
