See Me After Class(84)

“Does that mean a second date?” Romeo asks and, honestly, I’ve heard enough.

I grab my salad and take off, leaving everyone in discussion over Greer’s date.

Romeo doesn’t seem to need my support anymore.

And even if he did—I roll my eyes at myself—I’m not the friend he’d expect help from.

No. It was the right decision Greer made, and she should look for her future husband. Or whatever.

Fuck.

And I’m the one who has to act like everything is normal.





Knock. Knock.

I look up from my computer and see Greer standing in my doorway, wearing a pair of leggings and a Forest Heights Volleyball T-shirt. Her hair tied up into a high ponytail.

Remember when I said this outfit does nothing for me?

I lied.

“Hey, we’re all going to grab a beer and strategize about badminton. Gunner and Romeo request your presence.”

“Busy,” I say, turning back to my laptop, where I’m checking on my Amazon Subscribe and Saves.

“I don’t think busy is an option with them. They were adamant about you coming.”

“Then why did they send you to come get me?”

“They raced to the bar to grab good seats since the Bobbies are playing tonight. Stella is with them already.”

Vitamins and toilet paper are all coming in on time, thankfully. I shut my laptop and stuff it in my messenger bag.

“I should get home to Cora—”

“She’s meeting us there.” Greer crosses her arms over her chest. “Any other excuses? Need to check your vitamins again?”

Hell . . .

“How about this? I don’t fucking feel like it.”

“At least that’s honest.”

I stand from my chair and sling my bag over my shoulder. I move toward the door, but she doesn’t move.

“What?” I ask, exasperated.

“Everyone says you’re cranky. You’re unbearable to be around unless Romeo gives you a donut.”

I’ve had five this week, which is unheard of.

“And that you’re being a dick to your students.”

“I’m not being a dick to my students.”

“Blair said you handed out two pop quizzes yesterday, and everyone failed the second one.”

“Then they should pay attention more when they’re reading, shouldn’t they?”

“Arlo.”

Pushing my hand through my hair, I say, “What’s the point of this conversation? To tell me I’m in a bad mood? I don’t need you to tell me that, I’m living it. So, unless there’s something constructive you want to inform me of, please move the fuck out of my way.”

She moves to the side. “Excuse me for wanting to see if you’re okay.”

“Really? Is that why you’re here? To see if I’m okay? Because you sure as shit didn’t start the conversation like that.”

“Why are you so hostile? I did nothing to you.”

She’s right, she did nothing. This is all on me, and yet, I can’t seem to control my anger.

Do I want to taste her again? Abso-fucking-lutely. But I hadn’t realized how much I liked passing her in the hallway and teasing her. With snark. It was banter she reciprocated, and because of her fucking smart mouth and sassy attitude, it challenged me. The fight. The tease. Her. Occasionally, I saw her smile, but that’s gone now too. And I’ve missed that. Her.

Seeing her, in my classroom, beautifully flushed with anger, the feelings I’ve tried burying arise. Want. Need.

“If I keep fucking around with you, with no promise of going anywhere, I won’t reach my dream. I would just be putting it on hold.”

She did nothing but tell the truth. It’s agonizing. I know what my body wants, but my head is fucking with me. Which makes me angry.

“Just leave me alone, Greer.”

“Oh, so now you call me by my first name?” she asks, her voice sounding menacing. “But when your tongue is between my legs, I’m Miss Gibson?”

My lips purse, my eyes narrow, and I take a step closer, getting in her face. “Do you miss my face between your legs?”

She doesn’t flinch, but stands tall. “I miss the feel of a man’s hand holding mine.” She steps in closer. “I miss the feel of someone calling me just to hear my voice.” One more step. “I miss the feel of a man holding me while I drift off to sleep. Anyone can make me come, Arlo, but it’s the one who makes me feel special that I miss.”

“Walker not giving that to you?”

“That’s none of your business.” She steps away and says, “I’ll let the guys know you’re too much of an asshole to join tonight. I’m sure they’ll understand. They’ve known you long enough.” Then she walks out of my classroom, her ponytail swishing over her shoulders.

Shit.





“Here,” Coraline says, handing me a beer and taking a seat on the large lounger I’m stretched out across.

“Thanks,” I say, staring out at Lake Michigan, the sun setting over the horizon, lighting up the sky in beautiful shades of pink and orange. “How was the other night at the bar?”

“Fun. The guys bitched about you for a bit.”