Adorkable(31)

Even so, if I’d known what she was planning, I probably would’ve stayed home Monday.





CHAPTER 7





I managed to avoid Hooker over the weekend, but the true test didn’t start for another seven minutes. The second-hand was like a countdown to detonation. I was watching it with such intense focus that I didn’t even see Pisszilla approach.

Out of nowhere, fake French tips snapped an inch from my nose.

“And what do you call this?” she said, thrusting a copy of the week’s newsletter at me.

I glanced at it before turning back to the clock. “The sports beat.”

Pisszilla was in fine form this Monday morning. She slapped the paper down on the desk and growled, “Twelve typos, Spitz. Twelve. It’s only five-hundred words. What’d you do, type it blind?”

“No,” I mumbled. My thoughts were simply pre-occupied. As I’d been writing, every time I ran across Becks’s name in my notes, I had a flashback to our time spent in his room and got distracted. It wasn’t my fault, though. Thoughts of Becks were already distracting. Add lesson one to the mix, and it was darn near impossible to concentrate on anything else. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Not that bad?” she snapped. “You realize you referred to Southside’s Coach Moorehouse in the masculine, eight times throughout the entire thing?”

I was confused. Did I add an extra “o” or something? “Isn’t that his name?”

“Her name, Spitz. Coach Moorehouse is a woman.”

“Huh,” I said, “I had no idea.” With that buzz cut, the deep voice, and those shoulders, who’d have thought?

Pisszilla wasn’t done. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “You should’ve checked. Spitz, if you think shoddy work like this is going to get you into Duke, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Direct hit, I thought, recoiling as if I’d been slapped. Duke was the ultimate, the unattainable. It was my dream. Judging by the satisfied smile on Pisszilla’s face, I got the feeling she knew it.

“What’s the big deal? Man or woman, nobody from Southside’s going to read that article anyway. I didn’t even know Coach Moorehouse had lady parts.”

I shot Ash a thankful look while Pisszilla swung her gaze to him.

“Your stupidity isn’t the issue here, Ash.” She pointed one of her talons at me. “Spitz is the one who made us all look like idiots. It was her responsibility to check.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you’ve never made a mistake.”

Her nostrils flared. “I’ve never given someone a sex change in one of my articles if that’s what you’re saying.”

I’d had about enough. “Alright, alright, Piss—umm, Priscilla, calm down.” She glared, but I didn’t let it stop me. “I’ll try harder next time. Okay?”

She huffed out a few more insults but then left me in peace.

Unfortunately, the bell rang right on schedule. I knew Hooker would be waiting for me, on the lookout after the big brush-off this weekend, so I lagged behind. I’d felt prepared a few days ago, but now? Now, I realized there was no real way to prepare for Hooker. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. Of that, I was certain.

“Priscilla seemed pretty pissed,” Ash said.

Surprised, I looked up. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s not as scary as she thinks.”

I walked with him to the door. “She’s not?” I asked. “Those nails looked pretty sharp to me.”

He laughed. “You’re right, she’s terrifying.”

I nodded. “Especially the claws.”

Ash smiled then looked over my head. “Uh oh, looks like someone’s jealous.”

That was all the warning I got. A second later, Becks was next to me, arm wrapped around my waist like it was the most natural thing, like it belonged there.

“You shaved,” I said in wonder, running my eyes over his face.

He rolled his shoulders, and I felt the movement. “‘Course, I did,” he said, grinning down at me. “The next game’s not for another few days.”

I was still staring like an idiot, inspecting his smooth, hairless jaw line as if it was the eighth wonder of the world. I hadn’t seen it this way, this close in forever: Clean, strong, angular. Hands down it was the best jaw I’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hey, Sal,” he said, catching my attention. “I missed you at your locker, so I brought your books. I was thinking maybe I could walk you to first?”

I swallowed. “Sure, Becks.”

His eyes slid to Ash. “Stryker.”