Page 45 of A Royal Menace

Time stops, and so does my heart. I swear she’s moving in slow-motion as she spots us, smiles, and heads in our direction. She’s wearing a pretty little white sundress paired with a denim jacket and white sneakers. The hem of the dress ends about an inch above her knees, showing off long tanned and toned legs.

Fuck, am I drooling? I think I’m drooling.

I wipe the back of one hand across my lips to make sure no saliva drips out. Callie greets everyone as she approaches, then ignores the empty chair closest to her to round the table and slide into the one next to me. My gaze drops to her legs as she crosses one over the other, and when I realize I’m staring, I snap my eyes back up to her face. Thank God, she’s looking at one of the second grade teachers and not at me.

I’ve barely processed the thought when her eyes move to mine, and I swallow hard before picking up an empty glass and wiggling it in her direction.

“Would you like a beer? Or I could go order you a vodka soda, if you’d prefer. With a twist, of course.”

Callie’s laughter tinkles in the air around me, and my chest swells. Her mouth settles into a soft smile, and she nods toward the empty glass in my hand.

“A beer would be great. I don’t want to get drunk tonight.”

Is there some hidden message in those words and the slight sparkle in her eyes? Is she…flirting with me?

I blink and look down at the half-empty pitcher before I pick it up to pour her a glass. I’m sure I imagined it. There was no hidden meaning in Callie’s words. She probably just doesn’t want to get drunk in front of the others. It’s bad enough for her thatI’veseen her shitfaced. I’m sure she wants to avoid anyone else we work with seeing her that way.

She thanks me for the beer and takes a sip before regaling me with a funny story about the slime experiment today. One of her students had tossed a ball of the stuff up toward the ceiling, where it stuck. No one told Callie about it––I’m sure they were afraid of getting into trouble––and she just happened to be walking beneath it when it finally released its grip on the ceiling tile. It plopped onto her shoulder and, God, her reenactment of the surprised shriek she let out nearly has me in tears, I’m laughing so hard.

Callie’s cheeks are glowing pink as she finishes the story, saying, “You should’ve seen the shock on their faces when I started laughing. There was this weird, stilted silence that made me laugh even harder, then one of the girls giggled and set off the rest of them. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it through the wall.”

Ididhear it. For the first time since we’ve shared a classroom wall, Callie’s class disrupted mine. But there’s no way I’m telling her that. Not if there’s even a slight chance that it would deter her from enjoying the new, fun atmosphere she’s created for her students. And forherself.

We spend the next hour and a half talking to pretty much only each other, and before I know it, the others have trickled out, and Callie and I are the last ones here. She seems to notice at the same time I do, and her cheeks darken in color as she meetsmy eyes. She starts to speak, cuts herself off, then tries again with the same outcome. I remain silent and still, giving her time to get her thoughts in order.

She takes a deep breath and blows out slowly before asking, “Would you like to come to my place for a nightcap?”

Time freezes just like it did when she got here, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as my blood heats. Callie’s expression twists, and she opens her mouth. She’s going to backtrack. To rescind the invitation out of embarrassment.

I can’t let that happen.

“Yes,” I say firmly before she can utter a single syllable. Then for good measure, I add, “Definitely, yes.”

A shiver runs through her, then she swallows thickly, nods, and offers me a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I repeat back to her, then I stand and hold her chair for her.

This is happening. I don’t know if “nightcap” is code for something else, or if she’s really only asking me back to her place for a drink.

And I can’t fucking wait to find out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Callie

A nightcap?Do people as young as us even use that word? Jesus, what was I thinking?

It’s too late for recriminations now. I’m pulling into my parking spot, and Royal’s headlights flash in my rearview mirror as he passes by to find a visitor’s space. This is happening. It’s really happening, and I have no idea what in the hell I’m doing.

Does Royal think I asked him here for sex?

DidI ask him here for sex?

I don’t know. I was having such a good time with him at the bar, and I didn’t want the night to end. And now my heart’s pounding because I don’t know what he’s thinking. What his expectations are.

What if he thinks he’s just here for a drink and more conversation? And he only said yes because he didn’t want to embarrass me? If I make a move, and he rejects me, I’ll never be able to show my face around him again…an impossible endeavor since we work together. I’ll just have to watch for his cues.

But what if he’s having the same doubts, and decides to wait for me to make a move? Then, neither of us will do anything, and it will just be awkward and uncomfort––

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