A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime(110)

Right before he turns and leaves.





FORTY-TWO





WREN





The rest of the day is uneventful, thank goodness. We have a shorter lunch break because of the shortened schedule, and Crew never leaves my side. He’s very possessive, slinging his arm over my shoulders as he sits next to me in the dining hall and talks to his friends. Claiming me in front of everyone at school.

There are stares and whispers and gossiping behind hands, but a lot of it has to do with Fig’s arrest and not because of Crew’s obvious attention—and affection—towards me. This is a big deal, having a teacher arrested in front of our class, during school hours. Hauled off in handcuffs and paraded around the entire school.

Because that’s what those detectives did. They walked Fig down the main hall, hoping to catch the eye of everyone they could. Totally unexpected.

But then again, not surprising.

When the final bell rings, I walk out of my sixth period final to find Crew waiting for me, leaning against a row of shiny blue lockers. He pushes away from them to approach me, and I frown.

“What are you doing here?”

“Walking you to your dorm,” he says, taking my hand and falling into step beside me.

I marvel at this new Crew. We have sex and this is what happens? He becomes super possessive and wants to spend all of his free time with me? It’s so…weird. And thrilling.

Something to get used to, that’s for sure. I’m not used to this sort of attention, and while I like it, there’s also a small part of me that wants to run and hide.

People seeing me with Crew will eventually realize that something happened between us. Something sexual. My role model days are over.

I fell, just like the rest of them.

And I sort of don’t mind. I get it now. I understand why it happens, and how all other things cease to matter when the boy of your dreams, the boy you’re falling for, smiles at you and makes you feel like nothing else matters to him.

Just you.

Once we’re outside, I pull my hand from his and slip my gloves on. He tries to grab my hand again, but I won’t let him.

“What the hell, Birdy?”

The irritation in his voice is obvious, but I ignore it. “You should put gloves on first.”

“Oh.” His annoyance clears and he pulls a pair of black gloves from his coat pocket, putting them on and then taking my hand. “Is this your way of taking care of me?”

“I have to try sometime, since all you want to do now is take care of me.” I should sound more grateful. He needs to understand this will take some getting used to for me.

He shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable. “I feel protective.”

“Why? Because of what happened over the weekend? I can still handle myself, you know,” I remind him.

“I never thought you couldn’t,” he agrees. “But…I can’t help the way I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

“Like you’re mine and I want everyone to know it,” he answers seriously.

I absorb his words. The fierce way he said them. I believe he cares about me. That he feels possessive of me. But we’ve gone from nothing to everything in a rapid amount of time and I still need to process this.

When we arrive at the dorm hall, I turn to face him, grabbing hold of the front of his jacket and giving him a little shake. “I love how protective you are, but you have to be patient with me.”

Crew frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not used to it. A few weeks ago, you were chasing after me. Threatening me and always shooting me dirty looks. You’ve even admitted you hated me.”

His exasperation is evident. “I didn’t shoot you dirty looks.”

I love that’s the point he got stuck on. “You so did. Every morning when you waited for me to show up before school.”

“I was trying to get your attention.”

“As in, staring at me like you wanted me to die?” I laugh.

He doesn’t.

“I guess I approached it—you—wrong,” he admits.

“You still got me in the end though.” My smile is small.

He kisses it away.

“I could come inside and hang out with you in the common room,” he suggests, pressing his forehead to mine.

“I would love that, but I have a paper to finish.” My history essay is due tomorrow, plus we have an actual final. “Plus, I need to study.”

“You do not,” he teases, delivering another kiss to my lips.

“I do. The paper is only two-thirds finished and I barely remember what we learned in class this semester,” I explain. “I need to read over my notes.”

“I have that final tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “Maybe I should study with you.”

“We won’t get any studying done together and you know it.” I smile up at him, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Once I get through tomorrow, the rest of the week is easy.”

“And then we’ll hang out.” He says this firmly, as if I can’t argue.

I won’t. I want to spend time with him. As much as I can before winter break starts.

“Yes. We’ll hang out.” He kisses me again before I can say anything else.