Page 68 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Donkey duty calls,” Flynn said as we filed out of the classroom. “My car or yours?”

“Mine,” I said automatically. I needed home turf, and to be in control here. Because everything about Flynn was making me feel so chaotic. “I have some treats for him.”

Gryff snorted. “Treats for a donkey. You two are something else.”

“Everyone needs a treat sometimes,” Flynn replied to Gryff, but he was looking at me. Where was Saint Whosiewhatsie when you needed her?

I gulped and managed to squeak out, “Especially poor homeless donkeys with no one to love them.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself this is all about the donkey.” Gryff clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Have fun, kids. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That leaves everything on the table,” Flynn called after him, then turned back to me with a grin. “Shall we?”

Everything? Eek.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the Kingmans’ driveway.

“Dad’s at the university until this afternoon and Jules is at school,” Flynn said as he unlocked the front door. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

The words hung in the air between us, loaded with possibility. Like... everything.

“Great,” I managed, adjusting my backpack. “More quality donkey time.”

He led me through the house toward the back deck. Without the chaos of yesterday, I could appreciate details I’d missed. Family photos lining the hallway, a wall of achievement certificates, a bookshelf stuffed with an eclectic mix of titles.

“Wait.” I stopped short, examining the bookshelf more closely. “Is that?—”

Flynn followed my gaze and grinned. “Yeah, Jules has been collecting them since she was, like, twelve. Dad says we’ve spent enough on romance novels to fund a small country.”

My heart stuttered as I spotted several familiar spines. Like three of my own books. I forced myself to keep moving, throat suddenly dry.

“Your sister has a lot of books,” I said, hoping my voice sounded normal.

Flynn shrugged. “She claims they’re feminist literature disguised as smut. Her words, not mine.”

“She’s not wrong.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He raised an eyebrow and there was an all too knowing gleam in his eye. “Read a few yourself?”

“I’m a literature major, so it’s mandatory that I’m well read,” I hedged, grateful when we reached the back doorand the conversation naturally shifted.

The donkey greeted us with an enthusiastic bray, trotting to the fence when he spotted me. His little wings from the viral video days were long gone, but someone, Jules, probably, had tied a jaunty bandanna around his neck.

“See?” Flynn crossed his arms, watching the donkey prance around. “Total favoritism. I spend all morning before class mucking out his pen, and he acts like I don’t exist the moment you show up.”

“He just knows who provides the best treats.” I pulled a carrot from my bag, breaking it into bite-sized chunks.

“So that’s your secret.” Flynn’s shoulder brushed against mine as he leaned closer, the contact sending warmth through my body despite the February chill. “Here I’ve been trying to win him over with my charm, and all I needed was produce.”

“Charm only gets you so far, Kingman.” I fed a chunk to the eager donkey, acutely aware of Flynn watching me instead of the animal. “Sometimes substance matters more.”

His eyes met mine, suddenly serious. “Substance is my middle name.”

We worked side by side, refilling the buckets with water and snacks for later. The donkey followed us like an oversized puppy, occasionally bumping against my leg for attention. Flynn’s proximity, the way his hand would brush mine when passing tools, how his eyes lingered when he thought I wasn’t looking, had my skin tingling.

“Have you talked to your grandmother about takinghim?” Flynn asked, changing the subject as he latched the pen gate.

“She gets in on Saturday. I showed her pictures when we Facetimed a couple of days ago, and she already loves him.” I smiled, remembering Abuela’s rapid-fire excitement over video chat. “She’s abducted our welcome home party and is making it a party for him.”

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