Page 21 of Best of Me

I’m not sure what kind of response she’s expecting, but I know a half-hearted shrug isn’t it. Too bad it’s all I have to offer, because she truly does make me feel like I’m losing my ever-loving mind. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to explain why you’ve been acting like a god-dang lunatic.”

Against my better judgment, I find myself right back in her space, my hands tangling in her hair and my mouth hovering over hers. “Because of you.” I press my lips to hers, not in passion but anger.How dare she make me feel this out of control. I nip at her bottom lip, and the sexiest damn sound I’ve ever heard slips from her mouth to mine before her hands fly to my chest and she pushes me away.

“You make me fucking crazy!” I roar without a single thought to our surroundings or who could overhear. “Every time I see you, I…FUCK!” I resume my pacing, feeling like a caged lion.

“I what?” Mallory asks, her voice soft, timid, and my eyes cut to her. She has a bewildered look on her face, with her eyes flared wide and her lips slightly parted. Her hands tremble as she wraps her arms around herself, gooseflesh covering her exposed skin. She looks like terrified perfection—and I can’t help but want to wrap her in my arms and shelter her—from me.

Expecting her to lay into me, I brace for impact. Only instead of chewing me up one side and down the other, she shocks the shit out of me by demanding I give her my phone. Too confused to argue, I pass it to her. She taps around for a few seconds before handing it back to me. “Call me when you pull your head out of your ass; obviously we have a lot to talk about.”

Stunned, I watch as she maneuvers past me, her lithe body brushing against my rigid one, completely unaware of her effect on me. Well, maybe not completely unaware; after all, my dumb ass did just kiss her twice.

chapter twelve

Mallory

Meet the Teacher is tonight, and while I’m crazy excited to meet the little angels in my class, thoughts of Duke steal my excitement, leaving me feeling…well, just plain crazy. How is it that the one person on this planet who couldn’t possibly be more wrong for me is the one that has my insides twisted up like a rubber band ball? Somehow, he takes my feelings—both good and bad—and stretches them, pulling and tugging until I reach my breaking point, only instead of absorbing the emotions he pulls from me, he always steps back at the last second, leaving them to snap back into me.

In the week and a half since my laundry room run-in with Duke, the two quasi-kisses we shared have been looping in my mind—pathetic, I know. Truly, it’s unhealthy how often I find myself thinking about the way he gently sucked on the tip of my tongue, the way he tugged at my hair, the way he nipped at my lower lip. Lord knows, kissing my ex was like kissing a fish—open, close; open, close. Duke though, with just those two small, barely anything kisses, managed to raise the bar so high I doubt any other man will ever reach it.

Which really pisses me off. I mean, how unfair is that my firstgoodkiss is from him…the love of my sister’s life? And just like every time that little reminder crosses my mind, my lusty thoughts evaporate into a swirl of shame and disgust. Maybe I am as awful as my mother says—I mean, what kind of good and decent person has the kind of feelings I’m having?

Worse than all of that, though, is the fact that I gave him my number and I haven’t heard from him. Not a text, not a call, heck…not even a butt-dial. Whether he likes it or not, though, we’re going to have to clear the air, because I’m not willing to give up the only friends I’ve ever had because of some inane issue he has with me.

The sound of voices echoes from the hall, alerting me to the fact that parents and students are about to start trickling in. I take a quick glance around my classroom, making sure everything is ready—from the students’ desks adorned with a personalized bookmark and cupcake to the reading nook in the corner filled with every kind of story a kid could ask for.

As footsteps and voices draw nearer, I position myself near the classroom door. As the families begin to trickle in, I introduce myself and direct the parents to sign-in on the clipboard. I have signs up all around the room, directing them where to stash the supplies they brought along with them.

I’m in the middle of discussing the ins and outs of afternoon pickup when I hear a loud, excited squeal. Before I can source the sound, two pint-sized arms are wrapped around my legs, hugging me. “Ms. Mally! Are you my teacher? Please say yes! This is the best day ever!”

I smile down at the tiny little tornado and her use of my nickname. The second she heard her mom and Jenny call me that at lunch the other day, all bets were off. “Sure am, Tatum. We’re gonna have a lot of fun this year!”

She bounces on her toes, still holding me. The sensation makes me jiggle, but her enthusiasm is catching, and I quickly find myself bouncing right back as I shoot the parent I was speaking with an apologetic smile. Luckily, they seem to find her antics as cute as I do.

A second later, a frazzled Natalie bursts through the door with Alden hot on her heels. “Tatum! You cannot just run off!”

The precocious little girl rolls her eyes. “I didn’t run off Mama; I ran to Ms. Mally.”

“You’ll have to call her Ms. Parsons during class,” Alden tells her, at the same time his wife says, “I am so sorry—”

I wave a hand in the air, dismissing her apology before taking a knee so I’m eye-level with Tatum. “I love that you’re so excited for big school. I’m just as excited to be your teacher. But you can’t run away from your mom and dad, okay?”

Tatum mulls over my words, weighing the pros and cons before finally nodding. “Okay. I won’t run off again. Unless I’m really super,extraexcited.”

I arch a brow. “Nope, not even then.” Her button nose scrunches in displeasure, but she ultimately agrees.

I direct Tatum to her desk, and she grabs her dad’s hand and beelines to it. Natalie, however, stays behind. “We’ve been really nervous for kindergarten, but you being her teacher really lessens that worry.”

“It was definitely a pleasant surprise to see her name on my roster. I would’ve told you, but we’re not allowed to.”

Natalie smiles. “No worries. So…have you heard from Duke lately?”

I study her face, searching out her intentions. “Nope.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Hmm. Give him time.”

Time for what?I think without giving voice to it. Instead, I change the subject, diverting Natalie’s attention to my Kids are the Future station, where I have postcards for each child to fill out with their name, age, and what they want to be when they grow up, with plans to repeat the activity at the end of the year and compare their replies.

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