Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(21)

“Chris Smithson.”

My students, mostly sixteen-and seventeen-year-olds, are more interested in the camera Chris is holding than the woman standing in the doorway, sneering at me.

Chris glances around the room. “I’m going to set up over there. That way, the light coming through the windows won’t glare. Would you mind having your students turn their desks?”

“You heard the man,” I say to my class.

While they turn their desks, I walk over to Nicky, trying not to be distracted by her tight dress.

She never dressed like this when we were together. It accentuates her cleavage, her shapely hips, and her long legs. I wonder if she wore it on purpose to rub her success in my face. My eyes settle on the necklace. I’m surprised to see it’s the same one I recall being around her neck on her weekend broadcasts. The worst part is when I stand next to her, because the familiar flowery scent of her shampoo has my mind spinning back to the times she would join me in the shower. Damn it—why is my mind going there when the rest of me is filled with unbridled frustration?

“Did you plan this?” she asks quietly, looking as unhappy about being here as I am having her.

“Don’t flatter yourself. My students planned this. And we were told a reporter from XTN would be here.”

“I am a reporter, Jaxon. A weather reporter. You’re launching a weather balloon. And since when do you teach science?”

“We were short a teacher this year. This is my only science class.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“What are the odds?” I mumble, “Jesus, this is messed up.”

Nic elbows me, her wide eyes directing my gaze to twenty-one students silently watching us.

“Should we get started?”

Fuck. How is this my goddamn life right now?

Nicky addresses the class. “I’m going to introduce your teacher and briefly describe why I’m here, then I will ask and take questions, after which, we’ll head outside and launch the balloon. Any questions before we get started?”

Kinsey Herman raises her hand. “Are we going to be on TV?”

“Some of you will be. But not all of what Chris tapes will go on air. We’ll go back to the station and edit it.”

“So if any of you were planning any stunts”—I look directly at Leo Stoker—“don’t bother.

You’ll get cut and probably asked to leave the classroom.”

Some of the students grumble. I suppose the chance to be on television is more important to them than the actual science experiment we’re doing.

“When will it be on?” Rhinna Dorsher asks Nicky.

“I’ll be sure to let Mr. Calloway know so he can tell you. It’ll probably be this weekend, but you might have to get up early to see it. I go on starting in the six-a.m. hour, but it could air anytime throughout the morning.”

More grumbling.

“You can DVR it, you doofuses,” Leo says, earning him a warning snarl from me.

“I don’t care what time it’s on,” Hannah Christensen says, fluffing her long hair. “I’m watching it live. We could be famous.” She turns to Nicky. “Do you think any modeling scouts will be watching?”

The room buzzes with conversation, giving me more of a headache than I already have. “Quiet down,” I say.

“Any more questions before we start?” Nicky asks.

Leo doesn’t bother raising his hand. He blurts, “Yeah, are you the lady my parents have been talking about?” He turns to me. “Dude, is this your ex?”

Any and all other conversations come to a halt. The room falls silent. Nicky eyes me nervously.

She fumbles with her necklace and swallows.

“Any more questions about things that actually matter?” I huff. “Like what we’re doing here today?”

Twenty-one pairs of eyes pinball between Nicky and me.

Chris clears his throat. “Ready to roll, Nicky?”

He called her Nicky. Not Nicole. I stare at him, wondering what he is to her if not just a cameraman. He’s about our age, maybe a few years older. His arm muscles bulge when he hoists the camera up onto his shoulder. I may even hear a few distinct female sighs from the class.

I need this to be over. I stand in front of my students and put on my brooding teacher face.

“Anyone who makes noise or asks inappropriate questions will be dismissed.”

Nicky takes a few deep breaths and nods to Chris. He starts filming.

“I’m here at the local high school in Calloway Creek, New York, where students in Mr.

Calloway’s environmental science class are getting ready to release a weather balloon.” She walks over to me, and the camera follows. “Mr. Calloway, I’ve been told your students organized this whole experiment right down to raising the funds to purchase the balloon.”

“That’s right. They put on a car wash to raise money.”

“Ah, I remember the days of high school car wash fundraisers. Good times.”

My mouth goes bone-dry. Because I remember, too. I remember Nic wearing jeans shorts and a tiny bikini top and both of us spraying each other until our hair was matted to our scalps.

We lock eyes and I swear to God she knows what I’m thinking. I spent years looking into those emerald eyes. She spent the same amount of time gazing into mine. It had gotten to the point where we became almost telepathic. We knew each other’s moods. Emotions. Thoughts.