Never Never(31)

My words put her at ease and she closes the space between us again, this time leaning in and pressing her lips against my neck. “Poor thing,” she purrs. “Want me to make you feel better?”

My eyes are wide, darting around the room, mapping out my escape route. My attention falls to the computer on her desk, and then a printer behind her chair. “Ms. Ashley,” I say, gently pushing her away from my neck.

This is wrong on so many levels.

She laughs. “You never call me that when we’re alone. It’s weird.”

She’s too comfortable with me. I need to get out of here.

“Avril,” I say, smiling at her again. “I need a favor. Can you print a copy of mine and Charlie’s schedules?”

She immediately straightens up, her smile whisked away at the mention of Charlie’s name. Point of contention, apparently.

“I’m thinking about switching a couple of my classes so I won’t have to be around her as much.” Couldn’t be further from the truth.

Ms. Ashley—Avril—slides her fingers down my chest, the smile reappearing on her face. “Well, it’s about time. Finally decided to take the counselor’s advice, I see.”

Her voice drips with sex. I can see how things must have started up with her, but it makes me feel shallow. It makes me hate who I was.

I shift on my feet as she works her way to her seat and begins clicking at her keyboard.

She pulls freshly printed pages from the printer and walks them over to me. I attempt to take the schedules from her hand, but she pulls them away with a grin. “Uh-uh,” she says, shaking her head slowly. “These are gonna cost you.” She leans against her desk and lays the sheets of paper beside her, face down. She brings her eyes back to mine and I can see I’m not leaving without appeasing her, which is the last thing I want to do right now.

I take two slow steps toward her and rest my hands on either side of her. I lean in to her neck and can hear her gasp when I begin to speak. “Avril, I only have five minutes left before I have to be in class. There’s no way I can do all the things I want to do to you in just five minutes.”

I slip my hand to the schedules lying on her desk and I back away with them. She’s tugging on her bottom lip, staring up at me with heated eyes. “Come back during lunch,” she whispers. “Will an hour be sufficient, Mr. Nash?”

I wink at her. “I guess it’ll have to do,” I say as I head out the door. I don’t pause until I’m down the hallway and around the corner, out of her line of sight.

The eighteen-year-old irresponsible side of me wants to high five myself for having apparently snagged the school counselor, but the reasonable side of me wants to punch myself for doing something like that to Charlie.

Charlie is obviously the better choice, and I hate knowing that I was putting that relationship at risk.

But then again, so was Charlie.



Luckily, the schedules list our locker numbers and combinations. Hers is 543 and mine is 544. I’m guessing that was intentional.

I open my locker first, and find three textbooks stacked inside. There’s a half empty coffee in front of the books and an empty Cinnamon roll wrapper. There are two pictures taped to the inside of the locker: one of Charlie and me, the other just of Charlie.

I pull the picture of her down and stare at it. Why, if we weren’t happy together, do I have pictures of her in my locker? Especially this one. I obviously took it, as it’s similar in style to the pictures hanging around my room.

She’s sitting cross-legged on a couch. Her head is tilted slightly and she’s staring directly at the camera.

Her eyes are intense—looking into the camera as if she’s looking into me. She’s both confident and comfortable, and although she isn’t smiling or laughing in the photo, I can tell she’s happy. Whenever this was taken, it was a good day for her. For us. Her eyes are screaming a thousand things in this photo, but the loudest is, “I love you, Silas!”

I stare at it a while longer and then place the photo back inside the locker. I check my phone to see if she’s texted. She hasn’t. I look around, just as Landon approaches from down the hall. He tosses words over his shoulder as he passes me. “Looks like Brian isn’t quite out of the picture yet, brother.”

The bell rings.

I look in the direction Landon came from and see a heavier crowd of students at that end of the hallway. People seem to be stalling, glancing over their shoulders. Some are looking at me, some are fixated on whatever is at the end of the hallway. I begin to walk in that direction and everyone’s attention falls on me as I pass.