“I didn’t have a lot of options with enrolling so last second.”
“It’s an easy class, but you have to deal with Mrs. Porter.”
There’s the last name again. “Isn’t Jack’s last name Porter?” I try to phrase my question as casual, but Tate’s expression changes just enough that I don’t think I pull it off.
“Yeah, it’s his mom. Have you met Jack before? I mean, other than on the field this morning.”
“I ran into him once in town.” I shrug, trying not to let it show how much I dislike him. Maybe Tate and Jack are friends.
“Hmm.” Tate grunts. “His father has a law office in the center of town.”
Oh god.
“So his parents are, ah, married?”
“Yep. Prom king and queen a few decades ago. Don’t worry. Mrs. Porter will tell you the story about a million times.”
My mom really knows how to pick men. She’ll fall into any guy's trap and believe everything that comes out of their mouth.
“Well, thanks for lunch. I’m guessing we don’t have the same class next?”
“I’m still trying to get a few things moved around on my schedule, so…” He shrugs, not really answering my question.
“Oh, so I might not see you in economics?”
“I’m keeping that one,” Tate is quick to say before he holds his arm out in front of us as a rush of people flock down the hallway. They all jump out of the way and mutter apologies when they see it’s him. “Here we are.” He stops in front of the door to my nutrition class, which means I’ve only got one more after this before the end of the day.
“Thanks for showing me around.” I’m not sure what else to say, but Tate leans against the doorframe like he’s got all the time in the world.
“How do you get home?”
“Walk.” Tate runs his hand through his short hair like he doesn’t approve, and I find myself trying to explain. “It’s really not far.”
“I’ve got practice after school.” He sounds irritated, and I don’t blame him. They were practicing this morning, and now they have to do it again. “Can I get your number?” he blurts out.
“I…ah…”
“Not if it makes you uncomfortable,” he rushes to say. “I just want you to be able to text me if you need something. New school and all.” He sounds flustered, which is kind of adorable.
“Yeah, you can have my number.” I nod, and he pulls out his phone.
“Is that a dog?” I laugh when I see the home screen is a fluffy gray dog wearing a freakin’ bow tie.
“Yeah, that’s Walter. He’s my mom’s.”
“And that’s why you have a picture of him on your phone?” I raise a brow skeptically.
“He’s cute. Pretty good cuddler too.” Holy crap. This guy is going to be my undoing.
I ramble off my number, and he types it in.
“Send me a pic of Walter when he’s doing something cute,” I say before casually slipping into my classroom before I do something to embarrass myself.
I hope he texts soon.
Chapter Six
TATE
“Why would you want to switch to Nutrition of Culinary Arts?” Mr. Zeleiski, our school guidance counselor, asks. “It might look better on your transcripts to pick up another AP math if you’re not happy with what you’ve got.”
“Maybe,” I hedge, trying not to show my annoyance. “But I’m wondering if it wouldn't be better to expand my transcript to include something other than the normal requirements.”
“Hmm.” He thinks it over for a second and then clicks on his keyboard. “I can see how that might come across as more well-rounded. I’ll make the changes.”
I’m out of my seat before he has a chance to change his mind. “Thanks.” As soon as I reach the door, he clears his throat.
“Coach mentioned a change in the captain’s seat on the team.” He lets the statement hang between us as he waits for me to speak first. Good luck. After a moment, he sighs. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” I nod to his computer as I open the office door. “Thanks again.”
It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m ready to see Rosemary again. I caught a glimpse of her watching us practice this morning, and I stopped to wave. As soon as Jack came over, she darted into the school. I need to ask her what that’s about and why she gets there before everyone else. She mentioned playing the piano last night when we were texting, and I wonder if she’s getting music lessons.
I should be exhausted after staying up until three in the morning texting with her, but knowing I get to see her at lunch is hyping me up. We talked about everything, and even after I forced her to go to bed, I thought of a million more questions to ask her.
“Hey!” She pops out from around the corner to surprise me, and I jump back and squeak. She falls into giggles at the sound I made, and I’m immediately embarrassed.
“Yeah, yeah laugh it up,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn. “You’re tiny. I thought there was a chipmunk.”
“And you’re terrified of them?” She has to wipe the tears out of her eyes from laughing so hard, and I go over and wrap my arms around her in a bear hug before I lift her off her feet.
“Maybe,” I say, and I’m not sure why I hug her like this, but it feels right. “They have sharp teeth.”
“They do.” Her laughter falls away, and she’s looking at me with an expression I can’t quite name. It’s not anger or anything like that, but it’s serious. “They’re pretty quick too.”
I put her back on her feet, but I’m slow to release her. Her hands linger on my chest, and for a moment we’re stuck in this position.
“Rosie?” I say softly as I bend down.
“Yeah, Tate?”
Everything in me is screaming to kiss her, but just before our lips can touch, I stand up and let her go. “Are you hungry?”
She blinks at me like she’s lost, and then her smile widens. It doesn’t reach her eyes, but she nods. “Starving actually.”
I want to pick her up again and squeeze her like a doll, but I settle for taking her hand, and she lets me. I’ve never dated anyone at school, but I’m well aware of what people will say when they see me holding her hand.
When we walk into the cafeteria, it’s packed, and I notice a few people right away spot us. Trying to ignore them, we get in line, and I have to drop her hand to get a tray. I’m on the football team, so the ladies that work the cafeteria hook me up, and I always tell them thank you. I bring them flowers a couple of times a year, and that seems to go a long way in the snack department.
A few of them look at Rosemary and grin, but all I do is ask her what she wants and hold out the tray.
“I thought you said you don’t like cheese?” I say when she points to the mac and cheese.
“I like noodles, and there’s not a lot of options?” She says it like a question, and I shake my head.
“Mrs. Nelly, do you have any noodles without cheese?” I ask the older lady behind the counter, and she nods. A second later, she comes out with a big plate of buttered noodles and Rosemary looks like she could break down in tears.