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Good thing I’ve got plenty of restraint.
“Willow? Would you care to read a passage?” the teacher asks her at one point.
“Yes, of course.” Willow sits up straighter, clears her throat and begins to read while I lean forward across the top of my desk like I’m trying to get closer to her, entranced with the sound of her voice.
I could listen to her all day.
I feel like a lovesick idiot—not that I’m in love with her or anything, but damn. Her voice is soft and sweet, but not too highpitched or little-girlish. She sounds sophisticated, and she pronounces every word clearly. But I could also imagine her saying something dirty to me and that would be hot.
This girl is hot.
Fuck, I’ve got it bad.
Next thing I know, the bell is ringing and she’s exiting the classroom in a blur of movement, like she’s in a race. From not caring if she’s late to hightailing her ass out of the room, she’s not making any sense.
Weird.
When lunchtime rolls around, I’m entering the dining hall with my friends and my brother when I spot Westscott lingering by the entrance, a faint smile appearing on his face when he spots me.
“Mr. Bennett. A word?” He lifts his brows in question.
“Sure.” I follow him as he rounds the corner of the building, coming to a stop near the fence that surrounds the dining hall dumpster. Not that it smells out here. That’s the thing about Lancaster Prep. The grounds are manicured and immaculate, and there’s never any trash in sight. The entire place is spotless, but that’s what money gets you.
Westscott turns to face me, that pleasant smile still on his face. “You ready for this Friday’s game?”
“You know it, sir,” I say with a firm nod. “Had an intense practice this morning. We’ll be keeping it up all week.”
“You did great last Friday, though the score was a little closer than I prefer,” Westscott says.
He sounds like our coaching staff. They hated how close the score was. I didn’t love it either.
“We’ll do even better this Friday,” I reassure him. “Being on home turf is always a benefit.”
“You’re right.” He sounds satisfied with my answers. “Keep it up.”
“Of course, sir. We always want to win no matter what it takes.”
“That’s the attitude I like to see. Just don’t overwork yourself,” he warns.
“Never. You have nothing to worry about. We’ve got this.”
“Glad to hear it.” He pauses, resting his hands on his hips and glancing around before he returns his gaze to me. I can tell he wants to ask me something else. “Everything going okay for you otherwise?”
“School’s good.” I don’t bother telling him it’s boring. Teachers, principals, headmasters—they don’t understand.
“Anything else going on?”
Why does it feel like he’s digging? “Not much. Just school and football, sir.”
“No parties after the game Friday night?”
I shake my head. “We got back to campus so late, all of us were too beat to party.”
“Heard about the bonfire last Friday night though,” he says casually. Why is he bringing it up now? “Hope there wasn’t too much partying and drinking going on then.”
The staff tends to turn a figurative cheek when they hear we’re partying. It’s my favorite thing about Lancaster Prep. Well, that and the hottest girl I’ve ever met who goes here and just so happens to be a Lancaster.
“I didn’t get shitfaced.” I grimace the moment the words leave me. Probably shouldn’t have said it like that. “Sir.”
