The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(80)

I perch on the side of my desk, imploring thirty students to raise their hands. It’s been one of the toughest years of my career. The longer I teach, the less relevant I feel. Or maybe it’s this particular day that has me bummed. I search the crowd of students and am relieved when a hand pops up in the back. It’s the face and body attached to the hand that has me reeling.

“Sir, mind telling me what you’re doing in my classroom?” I’m elated to see him looking sexy as the devil in a hoodie and jeans and of course, his signature Cheshire smile.

“Rumor has it, it’s your birthday.”

“Happy Birthday, Ms. Arden,” one of the girls squeaks, her eyes glued to Troy. It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my own eyes.

Troy’s remain trained on me, an infuriating smirk on his lips. “And I’d like to answer the question, if I may.”

“This question is for my students.”

“Technically, I am a student.”

Commotion erupts in the back, and I can hear the faint whispers of a few of the football team. “That’s Troy Jenner, man.”

“No shit?”

“He’s going pro. Did you see his highlight reel? Sick.”

I cross my arms. “Okay, Mr. Jenner. Let’s hear it.”

“While anarchy was the basis of the book, they still formed a set of rules which, in essence, is government. I think he was trying more or less to highlight the corruption of those governing. Oh, yeah, and it’s a really bad idea to leave a bunch of sadistic kids unsupervised on an island.”

I nod. “I don’t disagree.”

“There’s a first.”

“To a point.” I scowl at him, where he sits dwarfing a desk that’s far too incompetent for his frame. He raises his hand again, and I have to bite back my smile.

“More to add?”

“Yes, I’d very much like to take you to dinner.”

“I don’t date students. That’s highly inappropriate, Mr. Jenner.”

“One can only hope.” The bell rings, and the laughter fades as my students gather their books.

“I would do more than read the Cliffs Notes,” I call after them as they pass my desk. “You will not pass this test without reading the novel, I assure you.”

“Happy Birthday, Ms. A,” a few of them say on their way out.

“Thank you.”

The students scatter quickly due to the weekend itch while Troy remains at the back of the class, his smile appearing between the warm bodies crossing his path. When we’re alone, I sit on the edge of my desk.

“When did you get back?” It’s taking all my strength not to fly down the aisle and launch myself in his arms.

“An hour ago, and I had to come straight to you. You make tweed slacks fucking sexy. I knew I wouldn’t be the only teenage boy who fantasized about you.”

“Thanks for encouraging inappropriate behavior in my classroom, Mr. Jenner. Way to set an example.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself, Ms. A.” He stands and begins sauntering down the aisle toward me. “You know he’s got a thing for you. I’m willing to bet most of them do. Half of them were probably half-mast looking at you in those pants.”

I look down at my outfit. “I dress like a nun here.”

His eyes rake me in, and I do the same. He’s absolutely perfect, and every day I pinch myself that he’s mine. And not just because of the way he looks, but because of what lies beneath. While he was away and when our schedules permitted, we fell asleep together after hours of talking on FaceTime, no subject off-limits. But nothing beats having him here, seeing him in the flesh, being able to touch him. He’s definitely the rainbow after more than forty days and nights without land. His presence a promise of something new.

And the fact that I’m comparing him to a biblical story only proves how deep I’m in.

“No, not at all a nun,” he murmurs as he finally reaches me. “You’re every man’s dream. This man’s dream.”

Fingers itching to touch him, I hear myself whimper. He smells so damned good. “I would give anything to kiss you right now, Clarissa.”

“Same.”

“Then get your things, sexy, I have the rest of the day planned.”

“What about Dante?”

“Parker’s doing us a solid.”

“You two finally call a truce?”

He shrugs. “She hasn’t poisoned my food lately.”

“Don’t get cocky, you’ve been absent.”

“I’m here now, and you’ve got seconds before I snap. Hurry up, baby, I’m fucking dying.”

I gather my books as he darts his eyes toward the door and then leans in.

“No, Troy, we can’t. Not here.”

“Then hurry up,” he grits out, his voice molten. “Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for ten minutes alone with you in this room.”

I gather my bag and toss it over my shoulder, not giving a damn about what I might’ve missed. “How did you even get in here?” I ask, unable to hide my elation as we both walk down the hall at a manic pace.

“Sweet talk.”

“Poor girl.”

He sighs. “Wasn’t a girl.”