I hate Goldenlux Academy. I hate this town. I hate school. I hate principals. I hate teachers. I hate my family. I hate the breakfast I ate. I hate my damn car. I hate this damn bag. I hate the fucking classroom. I hate Bianca Camillo. I hate everything.
"You're redirecting your anger to everything around you so you won't have to hate yourself."
Aiden's look told me that he was right. He popped a chocolate-dipped almond into his mouth and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I'm not."
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I know my faults and my wrongdoings. I know that I led that man into temptation and possibly ruined a young and beautiful marriage. I know that. It's what I wanted to do and I'm finally doing it.
So why do I feel this way?
Annoyed, I sighed and tugged on my hair which I had time to curl this morning since I woke up at 3am and wasn't able to fall back to sleep. There's frustration within me and I could not pinpoint its source. All I knew was that I was blaming Nikolas. Nikolas and everything else.
Aiden stared at me long and hard across the lunch table. "Maybe you need some coffee," he offered.
"I already drank four cups," I grumbled. I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder.
"Where are you going?"
"I need some air."
The cafeteria was lively again. Students have recovered from students' week and everything was back to normal. Almost everything.
There were freshmen in the hallways and there were seniors in the courtyard. Teachers were either in their lounge or in their secluded corner in the cafeteria. After a short stop at the bathroom, something every girl can't resist, I made my way to the double oakwood doors. I raised my hand to knock when the door swung and Maia Rivera walked out.
"Rose, hey," she said. She had a file in hand. Over her shoulder, I could see Nikolas standing behind his desk with his large hands fixing the delicate sheets of paper on the surface.
"Hi," I smiled at the girl who managed to gain my friendship over her first few days. She and Sean are inseparable and I'm surprised that he wasn't in there with her.
"Where's Sean?" I asked before she scanned the area.
"Went to his locker."
I eyed the envelope in her delicate hands.
"I'm trying out for the debate team," she shook the file in the air, "There's a competition soon."
"Oh, good luck."
Get out of the way and let me the fuck in so I can see him.
"See you later," she beamed at me before walking away.
When I stepped into Nick's office, his eyes were already on me. His shoulders were squared and his fingers were fiddling with a fountain pen. I locked the door behind me and without breaking eye contact, walked to the front of his desk where I let my bag drop to the ground.
Then came the staring contest.
He stared.
I stared.
He stared some more.
I stared some more.
More staring.
He sighed.
I cocked my head to the side.
We stared.
"Anything I can do for you, Ms. Martin?"
His voice was stern and his face hard. He pursed his lips and after a beat, started going through his drawer, no doubt pretending to be busy.
"A lot, Nikolas. You can do a lot for me."
With a tight-lipped smile, he replied, "It's Mr. Camillo to you, Rosaleen."
"Then it's Ms. Martin to you, sir."
I crossed my arms in front of my chest again—something I keep doing lately.
"Seriously," he faced me again and laid his hands on the table, "what do you need? I have work to do."
I started towards him, rounding the large desk. Nick stood abruptly and shook his head. His eyes were fierce and determined. His eyes said no. He walked past me and towards the far end of the room where there was a dusty bookshelf with dull titles.
"Does it involve cleaning that bookshelf?" I scoffed and he didn't laugh. He pushed his hands into his pockets.
"What did you come here for, Ms. Martin? I have paperwork to do and the days are short," Camillo's brows rose and without realizing it, I was holding my breath.
"I came here for you—"
"Please stop," he gazed at the ceiling and when his eyes landed back on me, he was glaring.
I see him glare more than I see him smile and I hated it.
My brows furrowed. Why on earth do I wanna make him smile?
"Lunch is almost done. You should get going. I wouldn't wanna get you late for class."
"Please, Nick," my voice came out louder than intended. He opened the door and nodded towards the hallway.
"No." I stayed in my spot.
We stared at each other again. His eyes were challenging and so were mine. I tilted my chin up. Nikolas looked pissed, annoyed, and resentful all in one.
After he sensed my stubbornness, he sighed and closed the door, locking it in the process.
"I'm not here to apologize," I started, "I can apologize to Bianca for ruining her marriage, but I can't apologize to you when you wanted me back."
I know he didn't tell Mrs. Camillo but I'd rather apologize to her than to him.
"I didn't expect you to anyway." He crossed his arms and leaned back on the wall.
"I came because I wanted to see you." The space between us suddenly felt like a hundred feet and I was itching to touch him, "I've been frustrated all weekend when I should've been celebrating."
"I need more."
I crossed the distance and stood in front of him—chest out, chin up, hands on my sides.
"You need a therapist," he said, rolled his eyes, and walked past me, his arm bumping my shoulder.
"We might as well go all the way," I argued and walked after him.
He sat on his big office chair, "No."
"Nick," I grabbed his hands and he pulled them away. Sighing, I stomped my foot, "What else do you have to lose that you haven't already put at risk?"
"Why would I want to put things at risk in the first place?" he scoffed, "Because I don't. What happened shouldn't have happened so forget about it and forget about me."
"We can keep things hidden, Nikolas. You don't have to deny yourself of things the things you want and that includes me."
He looked at me like I'm crazy. His next words came very emphasized.
"You're a child, Rose," he stood again and paced around the room, "and you know what children like to do?" he turned to face me and crossed his big arms, "they like to play. If you don't have important business in my office then I request you to leave."
"Just think about it," I sighed dramatically, "If Bianca ever finds out about us, do you think whatever specific act we've done will matter anymore?"
"She won't find out," with gritted teeth and a heaving chest, he ran his fingers through his hair. As he did, I watched him closely, appreciating each little part that made up Nikolas Camillo. Something bloomed in my chest.
Whatever it is, it was dangerous.
"Fine," I stood in front of him, "We won't let her find out. She'll never find out which means that we can continue this."
"I don't want to! You are fucking delusional."
"You do! You don't have to lie to me and to yourself. You're already lying to her!"
We stared each other down once again. When he spoke, his voice was deadly, "I don't want any more unsolicited visits from you," he walked to the door and pulled it open, "Leave."
I left.
Without another word, I picked my bag up and exited the principal's office.
Wednesday. It's Wednesday and for the third time in the week, I didn't get enough sleep. I haven't seen Nikolas since the last time I went to his office and maybe it has to stay that way. He needs his space. He needs to be away from me to realize how much he wants me.
And that's okay because at least I have time to focus on my schoolwork. As I sat in Social Studies with Mr. Alto, my hand jotted down his words and I did my best to pour my undivided attention into his lecture.
I was failing miserably. As the man rambled about 21st Century Popular Culture, I found myself thinking of fucking Nikolas Camillo and fucking Nikolas Camillo. The man had me wrapped around his finger and I did not like that.
"Rose?" my eyes snapped up to Sean with Maia by his side. I looked around to see that everyone was packing their bags and leaving.
"Class is over," spoke Sean, "Are you okay?"
A concerned look clouded the couple's faces. Maia's arms were wrapped around Sean's torso and I shouldn't mind, but a tiny part of me wanted to pry her hands away. Not because I was jealous but because her clinginess seemed toxic.
I need some air again.
"I'm good." I stuffed my notebook into my bag and stood.
"Are you sure?" Sean asked, "You've been out of it lately. Maybe you wanna come with Maia and me. We're going to the Espresso Planet after class."
Maia gave Sean a look that I couldn't decipher. Sean disregarded this and looked at me for my answer.
"No thanks," I smiled at the couple.
"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Maia smiled back and put her head against Sean's shoulder.
"I'm sure," I cleared my throat, "Thanks anyway," then left.
As I waited in the school parking lot for Jared, my thumb hovered over my contacts list. I would've called Alexeev, Viktor and asked him to hang out along with Dani if Alexeev, Leonel wasn't on top of his name. So, instead of calling my friend, I called his cousin.
"Rosaleen, what's up?" I could tell that Leonel was walking as he spoke to me.
"I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go out to eat."
"That sounds great."
We exchanged details for our impromptu dinner. I had enough time to go home and change into something that was not my uniform. I had Jared drive me to Viktor's house, making him think that it was Viktor who I was meeting. We passed the convenience store where I had seen Nick twice. A part of me was hoping to see his familiar black car parked out front—the same part of me that celebrated when I did see it.
What were the odds? I saw Nikolas leave the establishment with paper bags in his arms. Peeking out of the bags were bottled of liquor. I turned a corner and he disappeared from my view.
Leonel met me at Viktor's house. Jared had gone since I said that Viktor would drive me home. Wyatt also said yes about it. I felt like a minor again having to tell them about my whereabouts.
The restaurant was a fine establishment—Leonel knows all the good ones in the city. He was already seated in a table for two when I got there. Leonel's jet-black hair was cut shorter than when I last saw him. He was a gorgeous male clothed in black slacks, black shoes, and black button-up with white and gold subtle baroque patterns.
"Good evening," I sat and a waiter served us wine, "Thanks for coming."
"I'm always open to interesting company," he smiled at the waiter and drank from his glass. I ordered their best-selling grilled steak and Leo got himself a chicken salad.
"What did you wanna talk about?" he started as he speared a piece of chicken and put it into his mouth.
"First of all, what are you and Charlotte? What's she up to? I don't want my brother's heart broken."
I picked up the table knife and started slicing the meat into strips.
"Wyatt can have her," he slumped in his seat and chewed, "I only took her home the night of our dinner because Wyatt had you to worry about. We're nothing more than friends. There are other fish in the sea."
"Okay," I cocked my head to the side, "Second; you're all I can talk to about Nikolas. Aside from my friends, of course," I took a sip of wine. It was sweet and tangy. I liked it.
"What about Camillo?"
"What do you think of him?"
Leonel laughed and leaned back on his chair again after a spoonful of vegetables, "An interesting man. He looks like he's always hiding something—whether it be you or something else."
"You know our date at the yacht?"
"On Arabella last week? Yes, Wyatt mentioned it."
"Something happened between Nikolas and I. And now he doesn't want anything to do with me but his body says otherwise. I haven't been this hooked on someone before and it's worrying me."
"What do you want to happen? Let's say he does give in. What goes on from there?" he asked and all I can do is shrug.
"Maybe you should make your intentions clear," Leo pursed his lips, "He might be thinking that you want them to divorce when all you really want is a... booty call. Am I correct?"
But I already assured him that Bianca won't find out. Then again, the universe can be crude.
"I already assured him that we won't get caught." I leaned back on my chair with a sigh, "Clearly, I meant the latter option. All I know is that we want each other. I don't wanna think about everything else."
"But he does," replied the man, "I think he's accepted his attraction, but if I were in his position, I'd disregard it as well. Just because there's something there doesn't mean I should be engaging with it."
"What should I do?" I ran my fingers through my black hair.
"I don't think there's anything else you can do," Leonel shrugged, "It's up to him; If he wants to be stubborn or carefree and if he sees that you're worth the risk or not."
"You're right," I leaned back on my chair with a sigh, "You didn't say anything that I didn't already know. I just had to hear it from someone." I dug into my steak again.
"Actually," Leo started again, "I think you should let him know that he holds the cards here. You should make it clear that he has the power to decide what will happen to the two of you. You should tell him that you'll stop if he wants you to stop—" I opened my mouth to protest when he cut me off.
"But you should make it hard for him. I trust that you know how to persuade a guy?" he waved his hand dismissively, "Of course you do."
"You make it sound so easy." I rolled my eyes and Leo laughed.
"Let's put it this way, Rosaleen," he leaned forward and held my eyes in his gleaming ones. The warm lighting of the room made his features more known. The ghost of a smile was on his plump lips and I could see the gears turning inside his head, "How does a bear kill another bear?"
I gave him a questioning look. Bears?
Leonel smirked, "It doesn't just claw its chest. It claws its heart."
-
It claws its heart.
I replayed Leonel's words from three days ago.
It doesn't just claw its chest. It claws its heart.
"Wyatt?"
My brother looked up from his Nintendo Switch. Yes, the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company plays Pokemon in his spare time.
Currently, we're at the rooftop of the penthouse he owns near his building. I'm in a navy blue one-piece swimsuit, indulging in the warm water of the jacuzzi.
"What do men fall in love with?"
His brows furrowed as he listened to me while playing. "I mean... Aside from looks, how do women make you fall in love with them? Hard."
He chuckled and paused his game, laying the small device beside him on the lounge chair.
"Well," he leaned back and put his hands behind his head, "I've only fallen in love three times in my life. You remember Gwen?"
"High school sweetheart?"
"Yep. You remember Jade?"
"The one with green eyes?"
"Yes. And Chloe?"
"I never liked that one, but yes."
"Of all the girls I've been with, those three were the only ones I really loved. I realized that at one point in my life, specifically when I was on a business trip to Bali and the bartender made me drink too many tropical cocktails, that they all had one thing in common."
"And what's that?"
"They were... pure," he answered and I cringed at his choice for words. I urged him to elaborate further.
"They had this air of..." he laughed, "They were... wholesome is a good word, maybe. Simple: laughing at my corny jokes, admiring the little things. They were down-to-earth. They... I guess... were filled with loved and had so much of that love to give to the world. And I tend to gravitate towards that."
He put the last part so beautifully that I almost could not believe the words came from Wyatt's mouth. I guess someone whose name rhymes with jar has been making him romantic.
"You remember grandad's farm? We once hung out in that field we found near the barn. When the sun was up, the leaves would give us shade and the small rays that escaped felt warm and nice against your skin? That's what loving them felt like," he was staring into sweet nothing, a small smile painting his lips, "Warm. They just make you... soft. They're the easiest women to love and the toughest ones to break."
I got out of the pool and walked towards my brother. I grabbed a towel and hit him in the face.
"What the fuck?"
"I want my brother back," I muttered as I sat beside him and dried myself off.
He chuckled, "Hey, you asked for it."
"So let me get this straight," I hugged the towel around myself, "Guys fall in love with goody-two-shoes?"
"For me, at least."
He picked up his Switch again and resumed his game.
I know I've never fallen in love before. I would be well aware if I did. I don't know what it feels like but people say that it's like being on cloud-nine. I heard that the feeling is incomparable. Safe, giddy, joyful, and everything neat and bubbly all at the same time.
I found the three girls' description fitting for Bianca. Do Wyatt and Nikolas have the same preference then?
If they do, I'll have to change myself a bit. Nikolas Camillo was more of a challenge than I expected, but I liked it.
-
I closed the top buttons of my blouse and pulled my skirt down.
My hair's the same as always—smooth black locks falling down to my waist. My face is the same too; simple eyeliner, same thick yet threaded brows, and usual color of glossy lips. Even my scent is the same as everyday—sexy, tangy, and feminine. But somehow, I felt different.
Not the I-am-a-new-person different, but different as in I felt like a different version of myself. A tamed one.
Should I dare state how familiar Camillo's oak wood doors are for the nth time? I raised my fist and knocked on the door. There was no response but I let myself in.
Mr. Camillo sat at his desk. Thin black spectacles sat at the bridge of his nose as his forearms rested on the table and his face was close to his screen. His brows were knitted together as he read something on his device. I've never seen the man wear glasses before but it suited him.
Honestly, he can be wearing a fucking Teletubby onesie and I'd still wanna bang him.
Nick's eyes snapped to me as I took steps forward. His face softened before a blank expression took over his beautiful features. His jaw clenched and he sighed.
"Didn't I make myself clear?"
I stopped short in front of his desk. "Relax," I fiddled with my fingers, "I'm not here to try anything," kinda.
"I don't believe you," his eyes narrowed.
I sat on the chair across his desk and shut my legs like a gentlewoman. Nikolas took his glasses off and looked me up and down before his eyes settled on my face and his right brow rose.
"Why? What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing. You just look different."
"In a good way or bad way?" this time, I was the one who raised a brow.
"Neutral," he stared at me with judging eyes, "Because I know you're still up to something."
"I'm not up to anything," I sighed and cocked my head to the side as I assessed him.
Nikolas Camillo looks too good to be true. His golden eyes were breathtaking with the sunlight from his windows lighting them up. His lips were pink and plump. I haven't tasted them before but I'm hoping to change that soon.
"That's what you said during the other times that you jumped me," he gave a tight smile and shut his laptop.
"This time I only want your company," I beamed at him, "I realized that I enjoy it—with your dick hard or not."
"Seriously, Rosaleen," he leaned back on his chair and rocked himself from side to side, "what are you up to?"
"What are you up to?" I mimicked with the lowest voice I could muster.
"Seriously, Rosaleen," I mimicked some more. He gave me an unentertained look, "I love my wife. I fuck her anywhere and anytime. I drive a black sedan and I deal with teenagers all day everyday. I'm a big tough man with bills to pay and I love my bourbon. I get hard over slime videos."
"Are you finished?"
I could see the amusement in his eyes—the same glint he's trying to hide.
"No," I checked the wall clock, "I have nineteen more minutes."
He snorted and started wiping his lenses, "Feel free to spend it someplace else, Ms. Martin," he wore it again and opened an envelope, "You're not welcome."
"A bit rude, Mr. Camillo?"
He started reading its contents and I found myself yawning at the text.
"I'm rude?" he scoffed and disregarded me for the next minute.
He said he didn't want me in his office but at least he was not kicking me out.
"So," I played with my hair, diverting my attention away from his intimidating form, "How are you?"
"Just peachy." He grabbed a pen and started writing stuff down.
"You can do better than that," I rolled my eyes. "How are you?" I asked again.
"Anxious," his eyes met mine for a quick second, "There are delegates coming over for a tour of Goldenlux and I'm afraid that students will mess things up."
My brows shot up, "You always look so calm."
"I've mastered self-control," his eyes met mine again and he shrugged, "Partly."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Just behave," he smiled tightly.
I waved dismissively, "Too easy."
My heart bloomed as I heard Nikolas laugh. I sat across him dumbfounded—utterly amazed with such a beautiful sight accompanied by a heavenly sound.
"Anything else you wanna share?" I asked because deep inside me, I really did wanna hear about the man's day.
"You sound like my therapist." His expression was back to normal.
"And why would Nikolas Camillo need a therapist?" I joked and the corner of his lips twitched upwards. He disregarded my last line and attempted to change the topic.
"Your retreat is in a week. I hope it does you good," he spoke in almost a fatherly tone.
"Would you commend them if I came back as nun?"
"I'd rate them six stars," he smirked and opened his laptop again.
"Are you coming along?" I asked as innocently as I could.
Nikolas chuckled, "And why would you like to know?"
"Just curious," I smiled sweetly and batted my eyelashes, making the man roll his eyes at me.
Nick answered, "I'll be there for two days and one night. I have my own suite in a separate building," he gave me a mocking look, "I heard it has three locks."
"I didn't ask," I held my hands up defensively as his eyes narrowed into slits.
"How's your wife?" I asked, yawning.
"She's fine, thank you. Still beautiful, still mine, still loved by me."
"That's so cheesy." But why did it hurt?
"I have my moments." He typed on his laptop and I crossed my arms on his desk, laying my chin on top.
I could see his beautiful brown eyes behind his black specs but the rest of his face was blocked by the device in front of him.
"How about you?" he asked. Me?
"Young, confused, emotional," a smirk made its way to my lips, "Tight and compliant."
He leaned up to meet my eyes from behind the screen. Camillo gave me an unenthusiastic look before coming back down again. I stood up and walked around the room. Nikolas's office has some pretty dusty spots. I stopped in front of a metal file cabinet and pulled one drawer open.
"You shouldn't be going through that," he said as my fingers grazed against the folders. I found something interesting and took out my phone to take a picture. Then, I closed the drawer and moved to the shelf behind Mr. Camillo's desk.
I grabbed the framed picture of Nikolas and Bianca. I can feel his eyes boring a hole through my cheek. Nikolas cleared his throat, "That was the night we met."
"Two years ago?" the tip of my index finger touched his face in the picture, picking up a bit of dust. They both looked younger than they are now. It looked like it was taken more than just two years ago.
"Yes. It was at an engagement party."
"Why did you rush?" My fingers found the gold snow globe beside the frame interesting, "You only knew her for months."
There was silence, but I could feel him forming an answer.
"I got tired of being alone."
I shook the globe once and watched as the delicate fake snow showered the tiny golden house in the middle.
"It could've been anyone then?"
I put the globe down and continued with the ornament next to it—a pure white Rubik's cube.
"What do you mean?" From the corner of my eye, I saw him remove his glasses again only to put it in his breast pocket.
"That it just so happened that Bianca was there," my fingers fiddled with the turnable rows but my eyes were set straight into nothing, "You could've chosen any woman."
"No," he cocked his head to the side as he processed my words, "She's perfect. She really is the one and thankfully happened to be in the right place and right time."
I smiled at his words. Deep down, I knew that Nikolas Camillo was a hopeless romantic.
"Sounds nice," I faced him before drawing my attention to the cube which I turned several times already but still looked the same.
Well, all sides were white. What did you expect, Rosa?
"What do you love about her?" the words were out before I could stop them.
"Everything," he stood and put his hands in his pockets, "Her smile, her laugh, her voice." I could hear the smile in his own voice.
"I love how she makes everything work. I love that she sees the good in everything. I love how she brightens my mood." Slowly, he took a step towards me, "I used to call her Rusty," he chuckled, "Because of her hair," another step forward, "and she'd hit my chest," he sighed lovingly and I felt my gut give out, "and tell me to stop but I know she likes it."
Camillo stood exactly behind me—my bottom almost touching his front and it sent a shiver down my spine.
I was speechless. I knew I could never make him feel for me like that. All I could truly be was a physical temptation to ruin a bond so gorgeous.
His hand reached out to the cube in my hands. His arm brushed my shoulder and it sent a pleasant feeling through me. I don't wanna admit it, but I might just be addicted to Nikolas's touch.
I watched as his thumb pushed down on the middle cube and the top row popped open, revealing a small space with a message engraved:The prettiest things are not perfect; they are special.
I took the cube and closed the top part, making it go back to how it looked seconds ago. I laid it on the shelf. I turned around and faced my principal. He stood close—only inches away. Looking up, his eyes met mine in a stare so gentle yet so intense.
My fingers itched to grasp his shoulders and bring my lips to his in a kiss that would make him forget the woman he met two years ago and any other woman before that.
"I think you—" my line was cut off by the ringing of a phone.
Nick's trancelike gaze faltered when he turned his head to the phone and grabbed it to answer. He was still standing close to me—enough for my liking.
"Nikolas Camillo," he stated.
A male voice spoke from the other end and Camillo's eyes widened the tiniest bit at the information.
"No, that's fine, sir," his brows furrowed, "I'll meet you outside. Thank you." His voice was formal and polite. It made me giddy. He sounded so handsome.
"What's wrong?" I asked after seeing the problematic look on his face. Camillo sighed and put his hands on his hips.
"They were supposed to come in two hours," he walked to the window and I suddenly felt alone without his close presence, "But they're here now."
"Will you be okay?"
"Yeah," he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Actually, can you go get Quincy?"
"Sure."
I grabbed my bag and we started towards the door. Nikolas went to the front doors and I went to the cafeteria. The room was still buzzing as I found Quincy's table. Hurriedly, I informed him about the situation. He excused himself from his friends and we walked back to the hallways where, near the main doors, stood Nikolas Camillo, my past principal Mrs. Marithe, and five students wearing my old uniform.
Well fuck me.
"This is Quentin Bailey." Mr. Camillo gestured to Quincy who smiled charmingly.
"But you may call me Quincy, ma'am," he shook the woman's hand, "Quentin sounds old."
As Quentin shook the other students' hands, Mrs. Marithe's eyes zeroed on me and in a second, recognition filled them.
"Ms. Martin!" she chirped.
"Mrs. Marithe, good morning," I smiled and shook her hand with both of mine, "It's nice to see you again."
She smiled, but then it faltered. She must've remembered the reason why I'm in GA now and not in her school.
"Will you be joining us?" she asked and I looked at Camillo for help but he only stared, once again making me clueless as to what's going on in his head.
"I don't think so, ma'am," I smiled fakely and backed away.
"Actually, Ms. Martin," Nikolas spoke up and stepped forward, "Feel free to come along. I'm sure Mrs. Marithe will appreciate a familiar face."
It dawned to me that I never told him why I switched schools.
"I-I guess I can come along." I shrugged and kept my smile.
I met the delegates that Marithe brought along. They were all familiar since I've ran into them once, twice, or even more at my old school. Quincy led the group to the first itinerary and I fell behind to talk to Nick, "Are you sure you want me to come along?"
He shrugged, "Why not? Like I said; I'm sure Mrs. Marithe will appreciate a familiar face."
"I'm not in the best terms with the woman." As if on cue, Mrs. Marithe turned around and smiled. Her eyes lingered on us and I already knew what's going on in her old head.
"Why is she looking at us like that?" Nikolas asked silently. He smiled charmingly at the lady who waved for us to follow close.
"I never told you why I got kicked out."
"Kicked out? I had my suspicions about an issue but I didn't think you were kicked out."
We followed closely behind them, though with enough distance that the others wouldn't hear.
"Wyatt covered it up," I grasped Nick's elbow and pulled him down to listen.
"I got caught in the locker room with a substitute teacher."
Nick pulled away with his brows furrowed and eyes judgmental.
"Caught? As in..."
"Yes."
He sighed and quickened his pace, leaving me alone at the back.
"Then you better use this opportunity to redeem yourself."