Beauty and the Baller(49)

“Obviously. Tomorrow it’s Chewie. Then . . . um, what’s that guy’s name, the one who saves everyone?”

“Luke Skywalker?”

“No, the green one. I think he was a wise man?”

“Yoda.”

I snap my fingers. “That’s it! Hmm, wait. I could dress as one of those robot thingies, the gold one . . . what was he called?”

“C-3PO. God, you know nothing.”

I smile as I take a sip of coffee. I know some of their names, but it sure is fun messing with him. “I’m picturing a gold dress, lots of buttons.”

“He didn’t have buttons. He had wires in his midsection—dammit. You need to watch it. No one hangs with me and hasn’t ever seen Star Wars.”

“But I kind of like being one of the few people who haven’t. It’s the same with Titanic. Mama and Sabine watched it over and over, but I never could bring myself to see Leo drown. He’s too pretty. I mean, there was room on the boat!”

“You mean the door.”

“What?”

“Rose was saved on a door, not a boat.”

“See, I didn’t know that. I never saw it.”

“The Star Wars franchise is not Titanic. It’s about hope in the galaxy, with laser guns and starships. It’s the belief that one person can conquer an empire.”

“Wow.”

He rolls his eyes as I chuckle. See, we’ve got this. Just friends. Keeping it light.

The bell rings, signifying we have fifteen minutes before class starts.

I let out a gusty breath. “Here I go.”

Ronan gives my shoulder a squeeze for good luck, and since Melinda is still watching, he places his lips over mine in a gentle kiss. He smells like virile man, and his pale-blue eyes are warm (fake!) as he gazes down at me. “You can do anything you set your mind to, babe.”

I glance over as Melinda flounces out of the lounge.

“It’s working,” he whispers in my ear, his lips skimming my skin.

I push down the tingles as Sonia approaches.

We ran in different circles in high school, but she and I had a horrendous PE class together senior year. I remember her as a little awkward but feisty when the time called for it. With straight dark hair to her shoulders, big white glasses, and a pert nose, she’s pretty.

“I like your shirt,” I say. It’s white with a peace sign and says PEACE LOVE AND VEGGIES.

“Thanks. Want me to show you around?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “I’m room 333.”

Telling Ronan goodbye, we exit the lounge and head down the left side of the hall in the opposite direction of where Ronan led me last week. She points out the cafeteria, the way to the gym, and other important landmarks. We work our way back, and I peek into different classrooms, wincing when I see that mine is directly across from Andrew’s.

She checks her phone. “Looks like we still have six minutes. Awesome! Follow me to the special place. You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Um, okay?”

Walking briskly, she rounds a corner, ducks down a dark hallway near the student restrooms, and then opens a door and ushers me inside.

I blink at the dim light. “Oh my God, how many storage closets are in this school?”

She waggles her brows. “Three. I know them all. The lounge is always crowded, and these are the best places for alone time. There’s a rumor that Melinda tried to corner Coach in one, like, she locked the door and wouldn’t let him leave, but I don’t know if that’s true. It might have been his office? It’s no secret she’s after him.”

“Tell me about it,” I grouse.

She reaches in the pocket of her black pants. “Here, take a toke on this. It’s my extra. Hope you like peppermint flavor. I might have a vanilla or strawberry. I have so many. I get them off the kids on the daily.” She holds out two e-cigarettes and a handful of pods.

My mouth opens. “You vape on school grounds?”

“Don’t be a snitch, Nova, but hell yeah. Everybody needs a break.”

I giggle. “I always thought you were a goody two-shoes except for those times we skipped PE.”

She sucks on an e-cigarette, the vapor billowing around the closet. She grins. “Are we gonna be friends?”

“Definitely.”

“I can tell you’re nervous about the deviants you’re about to face—”

“Deviants?”

She smirks. “I’m kidding. Trust me—I love these kids, and teaching science is amazing, but the English teachers will have given you the kids they don’t want. Mrs. Pettigrew is head of the department and a wanker. I have a thing for British words, by the way.”

“Bloody hell, all kids should be wanted,” I mutter.

She giggles and takes another toke. “I spent a summer abroad there, and it stuck with me. So yeah, here’s the skinny: there’s good and bad teachers just like in any profession. All I’m saying is, Petty Pettigrew cherry-picked who got your class, and guess who her bestie is?”

“Melinda?”

“Yep, and Melinda also teaches junior English. But don’t worry about your first rodeo into the life of horny teens. I’m going to help you.” She flashes a smile. “Also, Principal Lancaster asked me to be your mentor.”