I twist my hands in my lap, watching each second tick past on the clock above the door. “So, is it true?” a voice whispers behind me.
I turn around in my seat.
“Is what true?” I ask the girl, who so far has never bothered to talk to me before. She usually just sits in the back of class and files her nails or texts on her phone.
“Is it true you and Emilio Chavez are together? That your kid is his kid?” Her brows are raised high in open curiosity. News certainly travels fast, though I’m not sure what I expected. Emilio is a Devil. I doubt he could sneeze without someone knowing about it.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We have a son together.” I whisper the words over my shoulder and turn back toward the front of the class. I might not be paying attention, but I don’t want to get in trouble either. Mrs. Jennings isn’t known for being tolerant of disruptions in her classroom.
“No wonder you’re always in baggy clothes.”
I scowl and turn back around. “Excuse me?”
She smirks and flicks her platinum blond hair over her shoulder. “I mean, the kid probably destroyed you, right? I get it. I’d want to hide that too.” The corners of her mouth dip in a mock display of sympathy before she adds, “My sister had a baby two years ago. Absolutely wrecked her. The stretch marks, the loose skin.” She shivers. “I am never having children. No, thank you.”
I grit my teeth together to keep from snapping at her. My body isn’t wrecked. It’s different, sure. But it’s not…urgh.
No, Bibi. Do not go down that road. Don’t let her get to you. She isn’t worth your time.
I turn back around again. This class cannot end soon enough. I’m grateful to be here, but I have enough on my plate. I don’t need pettiness added to it.
“So, you and Emilio?” she whisper-shouts behind me, and Mrs. Jennings jerks her head in our direction, her ever-present frown on her face.
“Ms. Crisp?”
“Yes?” the girl chirps.
“Is there a reason you’re talking instead of paying attention in class?”
I don’t need to see the look on her face to know she doesn’t care one lick about the reprimand. “Nope.”
Mrs. Jennings’ scowl deepens. “Refrain yourself then, please. Or you can stay behind after class to catch up on everything you’re intentionally missing.”
Our teacher returns to the board and I slink down in my seat, but Kaitlyn Crisp, the girl sitting behind me, still doesn’t shut up.
“Are you going to answer or not?” she hisses in my ear. My nostrils flair and my lips press into a thin line.
“Shut up,” I tell her. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she says with satisfaction.
I ignore it. I don’t want to confirm or deny anything when I, myself, don’t know what the situation is. Emilio asked me to marry him. God. What was he thinking? And then to suggest we date, as if the proposal is no big deal. It’s a huge freaking deal. How can he be so flippant about marriage? But now, I don’t know what this is.
Are we dating? Are we simply friends with benefits? I have no clue. Do I need to say yes? To the dating part, I mean. Or is it assumed that we’re a thing because he technically asked me, even if I didn’t say yes at first.
This is all such a mess.
He kissed me in the hallway though. He isn’t treating me like a dirty little secret. Then again, he’s never kept any of his relationships secret, if you can even call them that.
We’re in this weird going-with-the-flow stage and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
The bell rings and I rush to shove my books in my bag and haul ass toward the cafeteria. We need to talk. I don’t like the uncertainty of what is happening, and I’m cognizant enough to know that by not talking I’m setting myself up for heartache. I’m already developing feelings for Emilio, and I don’t want to get hurt.
I run into Dominique halfway there and am relieved to see a smiling Luis in his arms.
“How was he?” I ask, reaching for my boy.
He grunts, but there is affection in his voice. “A terror.”
