Page 29 of Driftwood Daffodil

“Oo,” he leaned in a little closer. “You have jokes.”

“I also have a lot of problems.” Anyone could see that.

One of said problems was this conversation. Why was he talking to me anyway? Didn't anyone ever teach him to stay in his league. Don’t dip below that line. Like say, he could keep talking to the girl that was whispering in his ear – who seemed suddenly very annoyed with my existence.

“Are you new here?”

And yet he was still talking to me.

Lovely.

Would the teacher be mad if I sat on the floor? There was lots of space down there. I could open all my books and spread out my notes. Maybe even take a nap?

“You look familiar.” I tried not to think about what was on the hand he used to prop his head up. Not to mention the finger he was tapping on his chin. “Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.” I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.

“Well then, allow me to introduce myself.” A charming grin spread across his face as he held out his hand. “I’m Atlee.”

“I know who you are.” I didn’t. I had no idea who he was, but I did know that there was no way I was touching his hand.

“But you just said…”

I cut him off. “I saidyoudidn’t knowme.”

Which was one hundred percent true.

Did my snide comment make him drop it, of course not. Why would the universe start liking me now?

“You’re sassy.” The devil started dancing in his eyes again. “I like it.”

Oh boy, Greek God liked me. My life was now complete. God could bring that smite on anytime.

“I bet you’re a virgin too.” He purred while raking his eyes down my side.

Seriously, just slit my throat. I’m totally cool with it.

Atlee shifted in his desk and took a deep, heavy inhale. “You smell like a virgin.”

Oh please. “I smell like fabric softener and depression.”

Why was he looking at me like that? Did he not see the dozen other girls who were well put together?

I should’ve worn the Elmo shorts.

The girl behind Atlee was about as impressed with my unwanted attention as I was.

She curled her lip while twirling her finger through the air. “You might want to think about running a brush through your hair.”

“Hey,” I shot back. “Not everyone can afford a brush.”

Or the time to find one. The shower I took was way too long. But I didn’t smell like bourbon anymore.

Atlee’s brow rose. “You can’t afford a brush?”

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