See Me After Class(113)

“Smart.” Greer sighs against me. “How are things with Lindsay?”

“Great. We told Dylan the other day that I’m his dad.”

“Really?” I ask. “How did he take it?”

“Really fucking well. He was excited. Confused a little at first, but then excited. I want to ask Lindsay to move in with me, but not tonight. I want to do something special.”

“I get that. It’ll mean more if you’re not buzzed.”

“What about you two?” Gunner asks. “You seem really happy.”

“We are,” I say. “Right?”

“Hate him, actually,” Greer says, using my chest as a pillow. “Can’t stand the man. Blech, gross.”

“Yeah, really looks like that.” Gunner laughs. “How serious are you guys? Exclusive? Boyfriend, girlfriend? Ready to propose?”

“Are you ready to propose?” I ask Gunner.

“Hell, yeah. I was ready to propose a month ago.”

“Well, we’re not there yet,” Greer says, lifting up and kissing my jaw. “But I think we’re headed that way. I sure know more about him than I ever thought I would. Did you know he used to wet the bed up until he was eight?”

“Hey,” I snap.

Greer giggles. “Oops, sorry, that must be the alcohol.”

“Dude, eight years old? Tough break.”

“I blame the lack of parenting in my household.”

“My poor bed-peeing boyfriend.” Greer taps my cheek, and I turn and nip at her hand. She giggles against me and wraps her arms around my waist. “Gah, I love you.”

I go still.

She goes still.

Gunner’s head whips around.

“I mean . . .” she stammers. “I love . . . uh . . . you-o-da. I love Yoda.”

“Smooth,” Gunner mutters.

“Oh God.” Greer lifts away from me and puts her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You didn’t?” I ask, feeling like I just swallowed my own heartbeat, my throat thick, my emotions bubbling up inside me. She loves me?

That’s . . . hell, that’s terrifying but also exhilarating.

“I, uh—”

“Oh, this is uncomfortable,” Gunner says, and I box him out with my body, forcing Greer to look at me.

“Hey.” I cup her cheek and smooth my thumb over her soft skin. “I love you too.”

Her eyes widen, and Gunner claps behind me. “Dude, that’s—”

“Shut the fuck up, man.”

“Yup, gotcha.”

“You do?” Greer asks, shocked, elated.

I nod. “I really fucking do.”

A gorgeous smile spreads across her face. “I love you, Arlo. I really fucking do.”

“And this isn’t the alcohol talking?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not.”

“Me neither.”

We stare at each other, both smiling, both realizing this is monumental.

“Christ, would you two just kiss already?” Gunner asks.

I bring her lips to mine, opening my mouth, claiming her, just as we hear a very loud “WOOOHOOO” in the parking lot.

We all look up to see a streak of nylon blow by us. Keiko, wearing nothing but a pair of pantyhose and an ironclad bra, streaks by, arms flailing in the air, screaming at the top of her lungs . . . and poor Kelvin chasing behind her with a blouse and plaid skirt in hand.

“This just became the best night of my life.” Greer laughs.

Mine fucking too.





“You know, I wasn’t even a super fan of the Bobbies, but even I feel let down that they didn’t win the World Series,” Cora says as she hops up onto one of the chairs at the kitchen island.

“Stella is devastated. She called in sick today,” Greer says as she helps me make dinner. She’s cutting up the veggies for the salad while I shred the chicken from the Instant Pot.

“Really? Man, she must have taken it really hard then.”

“Harder than the guys,” Greer answers. “It’s going to burn her for a bit, but I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

“Not sure that’s ever something you get over,” I say, bumping my shoulder against Greer’s. She looks up at me and smiles.

“God, you two are sickeningly cute. I never thought I’d be jealous of my brother, but I kind of am. And before you ask me if I’m okay because I’m getting a divorce—I know you, Arlo—I’m fine. I’ve really grown to not hate people in successful relationships.”

“Growth is important,” I say.

“Which is why I need to point out how Greer never stays here. You two said the big L word, so why don’t you ever stay here?”

Smirking, I say, “Greer moans loudly, and she doesn’t want you hearing her.” I barely finish my sentence as Greer elbows me in the stomach, causing me to laugh.

“Arlo, things you don’t tell your sister.”

“It’s the truth, and any lie, I’m sure, wouldn’t have passed with her.”

“He’s right,” Coraline says, looking at her freshly manicured nails, something she spent a good hour doing last night. I know this because she was doing Greer’s nails, as well. “But the moaning thing, now that I believe. You look like a moaner.”