A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(6)

The rest of the students exit quickly, even Crew, who doesn’t look in my direction. He’s too busy smirking at Malcolm about something.

Something I don’t care to know about, that’s for sure.

I remain in my seat, suddenly nervous over why Mr. Figueroa might want to talk to me. I set my backpack on my desk, shoving the old copy of The Great Gatsby in the front pocket, briefly checking my phone to see I have a text from my father.

Call me when you get a chance.

My stomach bottoms out. When he texts me to call him, it usually isn’t about anything good.

“I have a free period right now.” Fig strides over to the open classroom door and pulls it shut, cutting off the noise coming from the hallway. It’s eerily quiet. “So it’s the perfect time for us to—chat.”

I rest my hands on top of my backpack and offer him a faint smile, fighting the nerves bubbling up inside me. “Okay.”

He walks over to the desk Maggie just vacated and settles in, his warm gaze landing on mine. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that Fig doesn’t want anything from me beyond help. Despite the whispers and the rumors I’ve heard over the years about him and other female students, he’d never try something like that with me.

Fig knows better.

“What did you want to chat about?” I ask, when he still hasn’t said anything, hating how breathless I sound. Like I’m trying to flirt with him, when that’s the last thing I want to do.

He tilts his head, contemplating me. “You’re turning eighteen next month, aren’t you?”

I blink at him, surprised he’d know that fact. I’m sure he could look it up in my personal file, but why would he care? Do teachers even have access?

“I am. On December 25th.” The words fall from my lips slowly, my gaze questioning.

Where is he going with this?

A pleasant smile curls his lips. “A Christmas baby. How sweet.”

“It’s actually the worst. People give you presents wrapped in bright red paper with Santas all over it.” God, I sound ungrateful, but I’m only speaking the truth.

“Is that a cardinal sin?” His brows shoot up, his eyes sparkling. I’m sure he’s teasing me, but he doesn’t understand what it’s really like.

No one does, unless they have a birthday on a major holiday like me.

“I wouldn’t say it’s that bad. It’s just no fun having your birthday and Christmas at the same time. Your birthday is never as special as someone’s who’s in June or whatever,” I explain.

“I’m sure.” He nods, his tone grave. “Well, Wren, I’m excited to have you come on as my TA next semester.”

I’m thankful for the change in subject. I don’t want to talk about anything personal pertaining to me.

“I’m excited too.” I’m just grateful for the free period next semester. I’ve heard it’s pretty easy, being his TA. He doesn’t ask you to do much.

“You’ll be replacing Maggie. That’s why she was crying earlier. I told her I didn’t need her to be a TA for me any longer.”

Alarm races through me, leaving me cold. “What do you mean? I thought you always had a couple of TAs each semester.”

“I do. I still do. Maggie just wasn’t—working out.” He leans over the desk, his face drawing closer to mine. Close enough that I can’t help but rear back. “She’s a little clingy sometimes.”

His voice is low, as if he’s letting me in on a secret.

Unease slips down my spine. “Clingy how?”

When he hesitates, I regret asking. Maybe I don’t want to know.

“I gave her my phone number. In case of an emergency, or if she needed to contact me. I didn’t think it would be any big deal.”

If he says so. I think it sounds like a terrible idea. A teacher giving a student his number? That’s a line he probably shouldn’t have crossed.

“And she won’t stop texting me. It’s become…an issue,” he continues.

An issue he brought on himself, is what I want to tell him. But I keep my mouth shut.

“I hope if we happen to exchange numbers when you become my TA next semester that you won’t react that way. I’m looking for someone a little less…excitable. If you know what I mean.” His smile, his entire demeanor is giving off easygoing, no big deal vibes.

But there’s a tension in him, lying just beneath the surface. He just doesn’t want to reveal it.

I’m having a hard time agreeing with what he’s trying to say. I don’t plan on giving him my number ever. That’s inappropriate. And I’m not interested in having a relationship with him beyond student/teacher.

It makes me wonder what exactly happened between Maggie and Franklin—and if Fig has anything to do with it.

“I should go.” I rise to my feet, grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. “I don’t want to be too late to second period.”

I’m almost to the door when Fig calls out my name. I freeze, my hand on the doorknob as I slowly glance over my shoulder to see Fig standing directly in front of me.

Terribly close.

“You forgot your pass.” He hands out the familiar blue slip of paper. “Don’t want you to be marked tardy.”