Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(57)

“Did the topic of my lecture bother you?” she asked point blank.

I looked into her eyes, brown and thoughtful, edged in crow’s feet. She smelled like flowers—roses? Lily of the Valley?

“Yes,” I said simply.

“Shakespeare had a lot to say about beauty. It always tangled his characters into knots.” She looked over at me. “‘The Paradox of Beauty,’ that was the title for my lesson. How we view it internally versus externally. How it can be a flame, a mask, a deception. A disguise. Sometimes it’s a curse. I’d like to send you my notes, if you’re interested.”

I nodded.

“Emmett seemed concerned,” she added, like an afterthought. “I let him go after you. I don’t normally allow students to bolt out of my classroom. I don’t know if that was the right thing to do.”

Her words hung in the air like a question, or an invitation. An asterisk waiting for the impending footnote.

“He doesn’t understand,” I said.

“Probably not,” she agreed. She clasped her tote bag closed and picked up her copy of The Twelfth Night. “You can learn everything you need to know about life from these books,” Watford said. “That’s why I love teaching Shakespeare. But it isn’t easy material. Over the years I’ve learned that students don’t drop this class because they can’t understand. It’s because they don’t want to try to understand. They don’t want to put in the time.” She looked at me. “But, when I see someone with a desire to learn, willing to listen, willing to put in the effort, then it’s up to me to teach. I would never pass up such a valuable opportunity. That would be an incredible loss.”

I pulled my backpack over my shoulders. “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said with a small grin. Watford returned the smile before I turned and headed out the door.





Chapter Twenty-Two


CeCe


Tuba and I heard voices echoing through the tunnel of hallways on our way to the locker room. VanBree ran around the corner, her eyes wide with excitement.

“There’s going to be a fight!” she said. Tuba and I raced to catch up with her. The shouting escalated as we approached the weight room. When we turned the corner I saw Emmett inside, with a handful of other football players standing like an offensive line across from Tucker, Prentice, and two other rowers. My feet stammered and I caught myself before I went in the door. I backed up so no one could see me.

I knew exactly what the fight was about.

“Shit,” I mumbled under my breath. I held Tuba and VanBree away from the door. We peeked through the glass partition.

“Mind your own business, Brady,” Tucker said. “I stay out of your personal life. So stay out of mine.”

“Why her?” Emmett demanded. He took a step closer and got in Tucker’s face. They were the same height and the same build, but Tucker’s shoulders shrunk down like a sign of surrender, while Emmett’s chest puffed out like an animal ready to charge. He had his game face on—all intense eyes. Tucker backed up a step, next to Prentice.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Tucker mocked.

“I’m just a guy who respects women,” Emmett said. “I wouldn’t expect assholes like you to understand that.”

“I didn’t try anything on CeCe that she had a problem with taking. Or reciprocating,” Tucker smirked.

“There’s plenty of shallow, superficial girls at this school who are too dumb to know what a jackass you are. Why did you have to take advantage of CeCe? What the fuck, man? If you knew her at all…”

I opened my mouth to say something, but this time Tuba held me back.

“It was a dare, all right?” Tucker shouted back. “It was a fucking dare. And you know what, Brady? She was amazing. Her face might be a one, but her body’s a ten.”

I took a step forward, ready to throw my fists at Tucker’s self-righteous face, but Emmett took care of it for me. He lunged and the knuckles of his clenched fist connected with Tucker’s nose with an audible pop.

Everyone winced as blood spurted over Tucker’s mouth, dribbling over his chin. Tucker’s hands went to his nose and Emmett took the opportunity for the clean shot and nailed him in the stomach, below the ribs, where the skin is soft and unprotected. The other guys moved in to break it up and I ran into the room.

“Stop!” I yelled.

I pushed Tucker back and set my hand on Emmett’s chest. I could feel his heart race against my flat palm like a drum. I could feel his shaky breaths. Emmett backed off and shook out his hand. Tucker bent over and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch the breath that Emmett knocked out of him.

I dropped my arm from Emmett’s chest. I couldn’t look him in the eye. There was too much emotion running through me, and I knew he’d see it. Emmett’s arms relaxed at his side. He inhaled a shaky breath.

I couldn’t stand seeing Tucker’s face full of blood, no matter how much I hated him. And how much he deserved it.

“Get out of here,” I said to Tucker. Prentice half-pushed, half-dragged him out. He caught my eye before he turned to leave.

“We never dared him, CeCe,” Prentice said quietly. “We’re not that callous.”

I didn’t know who to believe. It didn’t matter. The damage had already been done. I turned and looked at Emmett for a single moment. His face was flushed and his eyes said it all, they spelled out this enormous apology. But I knew he wasn’t apologizing for what he did to Tucker. He was apologizing for what Tucker did to me. He looked guilty, too. He obviously hadn’t intended for me to see this. I glanced down at his hand, bloody from Tucker’s face. I wanted to grab that hand. I wanted to throw my arms around him. My breath caught in my throat. God, I wanted to confess everything to him, right there. I was about to cry in front of him, for a second time.