See Me After Class(114)

“Uh, thank you?” Greer asks.

“You’re welcome,” Coraline says, now placing both her hands on the counter. “Which brings me to my suggestion.”

“Suggestion?”

“Yes, I’ve been doing some thinking—”

“Never a good thing,” I mutter.

“Uh, excuse me, I was talking,” Coraline snaps at me. Clearing her throat, she continues, “I’ve been doing some thinking. Since I got a job—”

“What?” Greer and I say at the same time.

“Ugh, yes, I got a job, nothing to get all huffy about.”

“Where did you get a job?”

“At Frankie Donuts.”

“WHAT?” Greer shouts and drops the knife. “You got a job at Frankie Donuts? How?”

“It’s kind of funny,” Coraline says. “I got a box the other day and brought them to my marriage counselor. I took a bunch of pictures and posted them on my Instagram. Kind of like a twelve days of donuts thing and an added bonus, because baker’s dozen and everything. Anyway, I tagged Frankie Donuts and they reached out to me, asking if they could use my pictures. I said yes but demanded they meet with me first because I had a thing or two to say about their lackluster Instagram page. Well, I met with the owner, ripped him a new one for missing the mark, and showed him exactly what he should be doing. The guy said if I could turn his Instagram around in two weeks and gain five thousand more followers, he’d hire me.”

“And you did?” Greer asks.

“Uh, yeah, his challenge was a joke. I set up a donut photo studio in my room and I’ve been slaying it. Gained over six thousand followers. And I was hired. So, yeah, I have a job now. I’m also working on branding and customer service, other boring things like that, but, yup, I’ve got myself a minimum-wage job. I’m excited about it. Anyway, what I was trying to say before you interrupted me is that maybe I should move into Greer’s place.”

My brow furrows. “She has a studio apartment. Why would you do that?”

Coraline’s brow pinches. “Mother of our Lord, guide me.” She exhales loudly and says, “Greer would move in here . . . with you. Then you two would have all the loud sex you want.”

“Oh, I . . . I don’t know how Greer would feel—”

“I love the idea,” Greer says. “I mean, if you want your girlfriend to live with you.” Greer winces, looking up at me.

Hell.

Smiling, I say, “I would fucking love it if you lived here.”

“Yeah?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“God, look at me, advancing a relationship. Looks like you owe me another sparkling item. And if Greer plays her cards right, she might be getting a sparkling item in the near future.”

Yup.

She very well might . . .





“Hey, where are you going?” I ask Greer as she power-walks down the hallway.

“Principal Dewitt forgot to schedule an appointment with me. Last minute.”

“Okay, I was just checking to see if I was still coming over to help you pack tonight.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll order pizza,” she quickly says.

“Okay. Coraline was going to come over as well.”

“I’ll order five pizzas then.”

“Five?” I chuckle.

She sighs and pauses, hand to forehead. “Two, I meant two.”

“I think one would be fine.”

“You know I like leftovers.”

True, her life revolves around leftovers.

“Okay, two. But I can order and pay for it.”

“No, I got it, you’re helping me.” She looks over my shoulder and bites her bottom lip.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Just nervous.” She shakes out her arms. “It’s never fun being called in to the principal’s office.”

I chuckle. “But you’re not a student, you realize that, right?”

“I know.”

Since it’s after school hours, I pull her into a hug and kiss the top of her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Just think, after your meeting, we’ll pack you up, and then this weekend, you move in.”

I feel her smile against my chest. “Are you sure you want me to invade your space?”

“I already made room in my cardigan closet.”

She chuckles. “Okay, I feel less stressed. Thank you.” She checks her watch. “I really need to go.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be okay.” I press a kiss to her lips.

“Stella said the same thing.” She steps away. “She said her first-year mid-semester evaluation was fine.”

Mid-semester evaluation . . .

“I’ll see you at my place.” She blows me a kiss.

Oh shit.

Oh SHIT!

“Greer, wait.”

“I can’t. I’m going to be late.” She waves to me over her shoulder as she walks quickly down the hall to the office. “Tell me at my place.”

“Wait, Greer.”

She disappears into the office and my hands quickly go to my hair.

“Fuck.” I pace. “Fuck!” I can’t believe I fucking forgot. I need to . . . hell . . .