Relying On Ben and Jerry (Waltham #1)

Chapter Five: Sticks, Stones, and Other Harmful Objects

“The last one,” he sincerely replied only a heartbeat before the metallic screeching sound of the bell echoed off of the walls of the insulated office. He shrugged at me when I shot him an incredulous look. “Pre-calc is my first class, and all that mumbo-jumbo so early in the mornin’ makes my head all fuzzy.”

“I see,” I replied flatly, rolling my eyes.

“Come on now, Tomatoes,” Colonel called as he pulled open the door, holding it open wide for me. “Don’t want you gettin’ to class too late on your first day, would we?”

“Oh, shucks,” I muttered as I passed by him. “You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

“My mama sure didn’t teach me nothin’,” he replied, and then winked over at me. “But I will admit, I’m still not doin’ well with all of that manners stuff, so I’m gonna ask you in a moment why you look like you rolled ’round in paint.”

“That must be some magical paint,” I responded, and then grinned and shrugged. “It’s a long story, and one for another time. Normally that’s a third-day-of-knowing-you confession, if you don’t mind.”

“I pride myself in bein’ a gentleman,” he announced, puffing out his chest for emphasis. He let it relax when we both started cracking up. “Okay, alright, I’ll be serious here for a moment, though it might kill me—I’m kind of admirin’ your spunk.” He looked me up and down and barked out another laugh that nearly brought the house down, this time in a literal sense. “I was wonderin’ whether this retro fashion thing was goin’ on before stepping into these hallowed halls or if you’re just a rebel.”

“A little bit of both,” I told him honestly, keeping up with him as he climbed a set of stairs even if it nearly sent me sprinting. “Why do people call you Colonel?”

“’Cause ‘Drill Sergeant’ took too much breath,” he replied honestly with that big voice of his, and I laughed.

“For a guy I just met, you aren’t half that bad,” I told him as he glanced between my schedule and the doors in the hallway. He started to slow, and I figured that my classroom was incoming. My suspicions were confirmed when he hesitated outside of one classroom, off to the side so that the teacher inside couldn’t catch sight of him lingering in the hallway. “This me?”

“Indeed,” he replied, smiling easily. He tipped his imaginary Stetson. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Is it all a show?” my traitorous mouth blurted out without meaning to. I turned bright red again as he laughed, causing earthquakes spanning the globe. “I mean, the accent and everything. Is it an exaggeration, or is it the real you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Little Miss Nosy?” he asked me, teasing, flirting? Oh no. I felt my palms go all sweaty and I got cotton mouth and oh my gosh I better suck at reading signs. “What makes you think I’m gonna say in the first place?”

“You asked me the same,” I relented in a voice that was a little squeakier than before. I tried to play it off, but my hand was gripping at my purse strap with a death grip. “You’re not a gentleman, and I’m not a lady.”

He reached out and thumped me with one giant hand on my shoulder. I nearly crashed right through the floor.

“You’re a funny one, Tomatoes,” he told me with that same grin—holy moley, were those dimples? “How ’bout this—I got some friends in this place, believe or not, and they would love for a sweet little thing like you to sit with us at lunch. Stevie Wonder might be able to see your outfit, but I doubt Norma will care, though she claims she’s been to Paris.”

I didn’t know what one had to do with the other but I nodded like a bobble-head nonetheless, a little piece of relief relaxing the knots in my stomach at finding at least a little bit of acceptance in a school where I never expected to see it. As if he knew it he did this one-sided smirk thing and bowed his head, holding out my schedule for me to take with a flourish. I rolled my eyes at him but laughed as I tucked it into my purse.