Beauty and the Baller(72)

Caleb nods. “Yeah.”

“Great!” I exclaim. “Then maybe you can help us with wardrobe as well?” I give him a “Please help us” look.

Bruno juts in. “We need pull-apart jerseys.”

I pat Bruno on the arm. “We all know you have muscles under your shirt.”

“Your hot cheerleader girlfriend knows too,” Sonia calls, and a few of the guys laugh.

I give Bruno a pointed look. “Give it up.”

He lets out an aggrieved exhale. “Okay, so what should we wear?”

“Boots and jeans,” Milo calls.

“A furry Bobcat outfit,” another player calls.

Bruno rolls his eyes. “We can’t dance in a hot-as-heck fur outfit. What do you think, bro?” He looks at Caleb.

Several moments pass as Caleb squints and paces around the room, studying the players, his forehead furrowed, an animated quality about him I haven’t seen before. “Suit jackets and dress pants from the Goodwill or something sharp in your closet you don’t mind ruining. Fedoras if we can find them. Sunglasses for sure. We loosen the seams on the clothes; then halfway through the song, you jerk them off. Maybe twirl them around”—he smirks—“kinda like a striptease. Your jersey and football pants are underneath.”

“Yeah, yeah, I like it. Can you come tomorrow?” Bruno asks him.

Caleb looks at me. I give him a pleading look and hold my hands up in a prayer.

He laughs. “Okay.”

“Good.” Toby slaps Caleb on the back. “Be prepared. Half of us can’t dance, me included.”

“This is true,” Sabine says as she comes over. “I tried to teach him a TikTok dance, and he tripped over the coffee table.”

“All right,” Toby says to Caleb. “The game is next week. Does that timeline work?”

Caleb nods. “Who’s going to loosen the seams?”

Sabine raises her hand. “I can help.”

“Me too,” I add.

“My granny will,” Milo adds.

“I’m in,” Sonia offers.

We decide to ask a few others to help with the wardrobe. Sabine makes a list of names and offers to make the calls.

The bell rings.

I clap my hands. “Okay, guys, same time tomorrow. Pick up your lunches, and toss them in the trash, please.”

Toby gets mine, Sabine’s, and his, then throws them away as they walk out the door together.

Bruno ambles over to me. “Thanks for, you know, taking this on.”

“Aw, you’re welcome, Bruno,” I say. “Don’t forget to answer your poetry questions.”

He rolls his eyes and walks out the door.

“Ms. Morgan?” says a deep voice.

I glance up as Andrew files in, maneuvering between the students as they leave.

“Hey,” I say to him.

“That wanker wants to shag you,” Sonia says under her breath as she grabs her bag, then leans in. “I have a class, but I can wait a few if you want?”

“No, I’ve got this,” I murmur. “Go on.”

She sashays past him, nodding a hello.

“I’ve been missing you for lunch,” he says as he comes closer. He rakes a hand through his blond hair, his dimples popping as he smiles at me.

“Yeah, we’ve been busy.” I catch my reflection in the glass. No lipstick, my hair is a tornado, my royal-blue dress has a mustard stain on it from my sandwich, and I’m shoeless. I pad over to behind my desk and slip my heels on. I quickly brush some gloss over my lips. I turn back.

“Is everything okay?” I ask with a benign smile as I grab my satchel. We keep things light and easy. We talk about school and sports. I’ve clocked the smoldering looks he sends me, the way his hands linger . . . I’ve ignored it.

He gives a pointed look to a few of the kids who dawdle, looking over the posters we’ve made.

“Can we talk in private?” he asks. “This is my planning period, so . . .”

I frown. “I’m supposed to be at the field house.”

“Just a few moments. Please.”

I debate. There’s nothing pressing in Ronan’s office except answering his phones . . .

Andrew and I are always surrounded by other people, even at the fundraiser, and maybe I’ve been wondering what we’d say if we were alone . . . “Sure.”

We walk out together, and he leads me to the same closet Sonia and I use. He opens the door and clicks on the light while I reach up to the top shelf and grab one of the e-cigarettes. I offer him one, and he says no while I suck on one, willing myself not to choke. My goal is to appear to be a nonchalant badass.

Vapor billows in the small space. “What’s up?” I ask.

He leans against the door, a pensive look on his face.

I hold his gaze until he blinks and glances away from me.

“Andrew? We’re here to talk.”

“I’ve missed you.”

Just three words . . .

Several tense moments pass, then . . .

My carefully constructed walls crumble. Anger flares in my chest. Maybe it’s because I’ve been around him for several weeks, unsaid words brimming in my head. “You have no right to say that.”

A slow blush rises on his face. “I know, Nova. I—I’m sorry I hurt you. Paisley and I . . . if it’s any comfort . . . we weren’t happy. We tried, we really did, but once she realized I wasn’t . . .” He sucks in a breath. “We stayed in the same house for years, getting along, living our own lives, but now that Brandy is older, we both realized—”