See Me After Class(67)

“I’m busy, Miss Gibson. I don’t have time for your hysterics.”

“Hysterics? Are you insane? Arlo, that was my underwear that was found.”

I tap the printed email. “Which means, you better deliver the information about the underwear, since you know details. Don’t want to disappoint her.”

“Stop being so casual about this.”

Sighing, I turn toward her in my chair and take her in. Black skinny jeans, purple blouse, hair pinned on the top of her head, and high heels on her feet. She looks fucking good and I’m feeling hungry again.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Uh, not drop my underwear around school? Maybe try that to start. Or how about don’t steal my underwear at all? Who does that?”

“You didn’t seem to mind until just now.”

“Well, I do mind. Don’t take my underwear.”

“Okay.” My eyes land on her breasts.

“Eyes up here,” she snaps at me. I glance up at her. “We need to have a conversation.”

“What kind of conversation?”

“A serious one.” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I have to admit, I like her irritated and angry like this.

“Okay.” I rock back in my chair. “Converse, Miss Gibson.”

“Fine. I will.” She shifts; her eyes look to the side. “So . . . uh—”

“Kids these days,” Gunner says, busting through my door. “Underwear in the hallways—don’t they have any class?” He pauses and looks between us. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Miss Gibson was just conversing with me. Would you like to continue?” I ask, brow raised.

“Oh . . . uh, no.” She shakes her head. “I think I’m all done.”

“Are you sure? It was about the underwear, was it not? I believe Miss Gibson might have a lead.”

“Really?” Gunner asks, rubbing his hands together. “What’s the lead? Is it that punk Caleb and his girl Raquel? I saw them making out against the lockers several times the other day, and I kept poking them with a baseball bat to break it up.”

Greer purses her lips, shoots me a look, and then says, “No. I don’t have a lead. I was just . . . disgusted that someone would believe it’s acceptable to not only take someone’s underwear, but then display it to the school. Don’t you think that’s disrespectful? And something that shouldn’t happen near the English department, especially on Arlo’s watch?”

“She’s got a point,” Gunner says with a knowing look. “How are you letting that kind of behavior slip by you?”

“How do we even know it was promiscuous behavior?” I ask, rolling my knuckles over my desk. “Could have been someone accidentally losing their underwear after changing from gym.”

“Plausible, but the gym is on the other side of the school. She’d have been fumbling with her books a lot to lose her underwear.”

I point my finger. “Can’t guarantee the underwear belongs to a girl, either.”

Gunner taps his chin. “Right, right. Good point.” He turns to Greer. “Are you sure you don’t have a lead?”

“I don’t.”

He studies her, and she fidgets under his gaze. Gunner is good at reading people, and funnily enough, Greer is giving off all the wrong body language. “You look like you’re hiding something.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” I say, finding too much comfort in how uncomfortable she is.

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m just . . . thirsty. I need a drink. Excuse me.”

Gunner steps into her path, breaking off her retreat. “Hold on a second.” He lifts her chin and studies her eyes carefully. I smirk behind her, loving every moment of the squirming Greer. “Yup, there’s a secret she’s holding back. So, what is it, Greer?”

“Care to share with the class?” I encourage.

Her shoulders tense and her head lifts. Finally, she says, “Fine . . . I heard the underwear belongs to you, Gunner, and that there’s some trend of male teachers wearing thongs.”

Gunner shakes his head. “Stopped wearing thongs after I graduated from college. Sorry to disappoint.”

“You wore thongs in college?”

“Easier for the long runs our coach made us go on.”

“Oh, well . . . that’s what I heard. Okay, bye.” Greer pushes past Gunner and exits the classroom before either one of us can stop her.

When she’s out of sight, Gunner turns toward me and says, “I don’t believe that.”

Chuckling, I say, “Yeah, me neither.”

“So, Sunday Funday this weekend? Your place still?”

“We’re practicing, right?”

“Yeah, but figured we could make it a little more fun. Jason has the day off and he was going to come over with his wife, Dottie, and I was going to bring Lindsay.”

“You’re going to bring your girlfriend to Sunday Funday? Think that’s a good idea?”

“Dottie’s her best friend from college. She can handle whatever we throw her way with her friend by her side. Plus, I think Lindsay could be good friends with Cora. They got along when we had ice cream last time.”