Not So Nice Guy(33)

I’m breathing like I just climbed Everest. I think my heart is palpitating.

I want to pick up right where we left off, but I’m frozen.

Ian looks perfectly relaxed. His breathing isn’t even labored. You’d never know I just assaulted him except for the fact that his hair is adorably tousled and his shirt is extra wrinkled thanks to my greedy little pincers.

When I push off the desk and try to stand, my knees decide to function less like bones and more like jelly. I play it off by acting like I wanted to crumple to the floor anyway. I do need to put my heels back on.

He steps forward and helps me to stand. Then he grabs his suit jacket and rights it on my shoulders with gentle care.

“Come on. If we don’t hurry, they’ll lock us in here overnight.”

He makes it sound like that’d be a bad thing.

“We have snacks, right? I think I still have one of your Clif Bars under my chair…” I trail off.

He shakes his head and turns to walk out into the hall. I have no choice but to follow.

We barely make it a few steps before a security guard aims an accusing flashlight at us. The hallway isn’t even dark. It’s a little overkill. “Hey! You kids were supposed to stay in the cafeteria.”

“We’re teachers,” Ian says smoothly.

The security guard purses his lips in disbelief and grumbles under his breath as we pass, “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I think we’re going to get detention,” Ian jokes.

I don’t laugh. My sanity is crumbling.

He glances over at me, and whatever he sees makes him shake his head with annoyance. What? Do I look that bad?

“Just remember when you go home and freak out, you did this to yourself.”

“What?”

“You’re spiraling.”

I laugh like a shrill lunatic. “No, I’m not!”

I am. A soft breeze could topple me. I don’t let him touch me when we get to my car. I’m scared I’ll latch onto him again, which would be terrible because we aren’t alone anymore. There are other people out in the parking lot—teachers, chaperones, Principal Pruitt. He waves at us as he and his wife head to their car. Ian and I smile and wave like plastic figurines. Our body language says, No kissing here! None at all! Just two well-behaved employees!

“I thought you two left after you finished your chaperoning duties?” he shouts from a few cars over.

“We were going to, but then Ian got sick.” The lie sails off my tongue effortlessly. I want to pat myself on the back.

“Oh no.” Principal Pruitt frowns. “What do you have, son?”

“Food poisoning,” I supply for him. “You know how it goes—out both ends, pretty bad. I had to unlock the supply closet to get more toilet paper for him.”

“Yup. Sam had it too, even worse than I did. Never heard anything like it before in my life.”

I resist the urge to stomp on his foot.

Principal Pruitt looks deeply concerned. “Now that you mention it, you both look like you’ve been through the ringer. Did you guys share food or something?”

We swapped some saliva—does that count?

We’re given orders to rest and hydrate and take it easy tomorrow.

When they’re gone, Ian opens my car door and folds me down inside. “Food poisoning? Really?”

“It was the only way to explain our ragged appearance.”

He reaches over me and starts my car.

“Can you drive?”

“I don’t know. What if I get pulled over? I’m not drunk, but I sure as shit can’t walk a straight line right now. Did you drug me?”

He’s covering the door and leaning down, filling the entire doorframe. “I hate the way your brain works sometimes.”

The dig cuts deep. I can’t change who I am no matter how hard I try.

I stare straight ahead, out the front window.

“Why can’t you just let this happen without sabotaging it?”

“I’m not sabotaging it,” I insist, offended.

“Okay, then let’s go out on a date tomorrow night.”

“I can’t.”

He shakes his head, pissed. “Good night Sam.”

NO! Doesn’t he get it? Doesn’t he understand that I want to preserve what we have? That people fight their entire lives to find a friend like we have in each other? We’re soul mates who shouldn’t risk mating. Soul buds. Soul pals?

“Wait!” I wrap my hand around his forearm. It’s so muscled and sexy, I lose track of what I was about to say. When my gaze drags back up to his angry scowl, I remember. “Don’t be mad at me.”

He’s never been mad at me. I didn’t realize it’s my worst fear until this moment.

“I’m not. Sam—” He cuts himself off and heaves in a deep sigh. Then he steps back and grabs the door. “Go home.”

And I do. I go home and I lie awake in my bed and I try to ignore the terrible feeling that my friendship with Ian will never be the same after tonight, that I’ve already started to lose him. The thought shreds my heart.



Ian and I don’t talk at all on Sunday. It’s the worst day I’ve had in a long time. I mope around the apartment and stay in my pajamas. I grab for my phone every time I hear a phantom ring. I watch a PBS special about jellyfish and remember the time I got stung at the beach and Ian swooped me up in his arms and carried me out of the water like a hero.