Page 21 of The Prom

“There’s a warehouse on the outskirts of the next city that I understand provides props for movies, theater and events. Perhaps we could take a trip there and select some items.”

“We?”

I turn and note the excitement in her eyes and God knows I should turn and look away, but I can’t.

“Are you free tomorrow after final period?”

She nods and I quickly add, “The warehouse closes at six, so we’ll need to leave dead on four. It’s an hour’s drive which only gives us one hour to choose our pieces.”

She nods. “That’s fine by me. I have a free period last thing tomorrow, so I can be ready when you are.”

“Same.” I heave a deep sigh and plunge head first into oblivion.

“Then we’ll leave at three. It will give us longer and may prevent a few curious eyes from watching us leave together.”

“That could be a problem.” She shakes her head. “Students don’t need much of a reason to gossip. Perhaps I should meet you by the gates and you can pick me up as you drive through them.”

“As if we have something to hide?” I raise my eyes and she giggles, a sound that is pure torture for my tainted soul.

“We don’t, but they would find a reason to spread gossip, so it’s best this way.”

Part of me is pissed that she has agreed to ride out of the protection of Rockwell with a stranger. I really must educate her in that, but I’m relieved she is doing exactly what I planned all along. This entire orchestration was to get her alone in the first place, and I am still dealing with what that means for me.

She stands. “I should go. You must be busy.”

As she prepares to leave, I call out like a lovesick freshman. “It’s fine. I was, um, going to order pizza. They have an offer, two for one. I’m happy to share it with you in return for your help.”

Her eyes widen and a soft blush steals across her perfect face and she nods shyly. “Sure, I am quite hungry.”

I jerk my head toward the grounds.

“If you like, we can eat on the veranda of my house. It’s hidden away and only visitors can see it and I don’t get any of those. Why not give me thirty minutes and I’ll meet you there?”

She hesitates and I find myself holding my breath and then she nods, a shy smile causing damage to my rusty heart.

“Sure, I’ll bring soda.”

“It’s a–” I stop as she raises her eyes and I add, “plan. It’s a good plan.”

She smiles brightly before turning and making a swift exit, leaving me wondering what the hell has gotten into me. I’m here for one thing only. To do a job. An important one and not to develop a fascination for the one person I can never have.

ELEVEN

IMOGEN

I can’t believe this is happening. I am shaking as I attempt to slink in the shadows towards my freaking teacher’s house. He almost called it a date. He never said the words, but he was going to. A date with Drake Bellingham. I can’t believe my luck. Is this good or bad? I have yet to figure that out.

I want to go there anyway—because every time he looks into my eyes, I’m undone and led willingly down a path I have no right to be on.

He’s your teacher. Walk away and fast.

My inner voice attempts to tug me back as I glance down to the ground, my baseball cap firmly covering my hair and my headphones on. I am pretending to be out for a jog and only the rucksack behind me disguises the cans of soda and key lime pie I took from the freezer. I’ll replace it when we head to town.

We. Why do I picture Drake and me as awenow? There is no we. There will never be a we.

I consider turning around and running fast the other way, but something is compelling me to continue my journey. I want to go even knowing there is something between us that could ruin us both. I’m not a fool. I see the battle waging in his eyesbecause I am fighting the same one. I want my teacher and I am officially going to hell in a handbasket.

I see him almost immediately, and my heart flutters. He’s waiting on the veranda and appears more like a student than a teacher in his tight t-shirt, shorts and sneakers with mirrored shades perched on the bridge of his nose, a bottle of beer hanging loosely in his hands.

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