I smirked at him.
“Oh, no, no, no.” He shook his hands emphatically as a wave of pure horror washed over his features. “There’s no way you’re getting me to take another AP class.”
“But, I could do your assignments! It’ll be an easy ‘A’ for you!”
“Ugh. What class is it?”
“AP Lang.”
“Dude.”
“I can’t help it that I’m a word nerd.”
Elliot broke into a hearty laugh, the sound bubbling out of his mouth.
I snorted loudly, causing me to slap both hands over my mouth, which only fueled his cackling more.
“Word nerd and snorting?” he choked out between broken laughs. “You’re such a loser.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I guess. Anything for mygirlfriend.”
“Why, thank you,boyfriend.” I bowed at the waist, offering a slight curtsy as I looped my arm around his. “Ready for tutoring?”
“Nope,” he answered, gently pulling me toward Mrs. Hawthorne’s classroom. “Is it too late to squeeze in a smoke break?”
“Definitely.”
When we walked in, Mrs. Hawthorne sat at the front of the class reading some smutty romance books as per usual, while Elliot and I tucked ourselves at the back of the classroom.
I tried to focus on studying for our upcoming final exam, but my brain was a scrambled mess of fucked up alphabet soup. It felt like just yesterday I caught Elliot reading my journal.
It felt like just yesterday, I was sliding the straps of my Homecoming dress over my shoulders as I prepared for the dance. It felt like just yesterday I was gossiping with Meredith and Kendra. It felt like just yesterday I was in my bedroom, pen in hand, as I concocted the perfect plan to win Prom Queen.
As my mind did cartwheels, darting back and forth from one thought to another, I felt myself get tired as I stared at the cream-colored walls. My eyelids became heavy as the familiar sensation of overwhelming fatigue had set in. Every muscle in my body was aching. I needed a solid forty-eight hours of sleep, but sadly I still had responsibilities.
Stupid. Fucking. Responsibilities.
I tried to imagine that my eyes were being held open by some sort of surgical torture device like the ones they use for LASIK. Anything to stop the drowsiness from taking hold.
As I stared into oblivion, I eventually came to focus on Mrs. Hawthorne’s book. My mouth parted in disbelief.A Ruin of Rosesby K.F. Breene. I just couldn’t believe the fifty-something-year-old literature teacher was readinganothererotic novel in school.
Did she think we wouldn’t notice? The cover was inconspicuous enough with a single red rose in the center, but did she not realize we had access to Google? I mean, someone could easily pop the title into their search bar, and BAM,smutty book on the first page.
Elliot quietly cleared his throat.
When I looked over at him, he was trying to follow my line of sight with his hands as he gestured at Mrs. Hawthorne. He tilted his head to the side. After exchanging a few not-so-subtle glances, I realized we needed a way to talk freely without her hearing, so I ripped out a piece of paper from my journal and scribbled a note on it.
Elliot gave me a knowing look while drawing something below the words.
I squinted my eyes as I watched him sketch a petite girl with a shit-eating grin on her face. The last thing he drew was a book clutched in the girl’s hands with the titleFifty Shades of Grey. I looked away with pink-stained cheeks.
“You look like a tomato right now,” he whispered.
My nostrils flared. “You look like you can’t solve for x.”
“Stop trying to deflect.” He smirked deviously. “So, all those books in your room…they’re…rated R?”
