Page 2 of Fall Fake-Out

Her deep, grumpy tone bellows in the distance. “I sent her in there. Not my problem if she got lost.”

I decide to raise my hand out from under the desk.

Give a little wave too.

Like an idiot.

I figured it’s better than slowly peeking my head up over the edge. But now I’m not so sure. I begin my humiliating crawl out as Mr. Stevenson chuckles.

“And to think, you want to be a high school English teacher.”

That doesn’t sound like old Mr. Stevenson’s voice.

I freeze—fully aware that my butt is in the air, facing whoever is behind me. I move to stand, but the straitjacket of a skirt I’m wearing doesn’t agree with fast movements.

Rrrrip!

My spine snaps straight as I reach around to assess the damage.

Lots and lots of exposed skin.

My inner thigh, to be exact.

And a sudden draft.

“It’s as bad as you think.” The amusement coming from the voice behind me seems familiar.

I scramble to my feet, whipping my body around as I try to cover up my butt with my hands.

My heart trips over itself.

I no longer have to wonder what happened to Wade Stevenson. He’s here at Autumn Ridge High, standing two feet from me, looking exactly the same as he did nine years ago. He’s wearing a fitted white t-shirt and black gym shorts that seem an inch or two too short for a Tuesday afternoon at a high school. Same brown hair but with a mustache that’s new since I last saw him—it’s fitting in a sexy-Wade kind of way.

He’s even more attractive than he was back then. Although, I’d never tell him that.

“Wade!” I tug at the back of my skirt, forgetting that I’m holding sharp pieces of glass. The top of my finger slices open. “Ouch!”

A surprising amount of blood begins rolling down, and I quickly grab my wrist with my other hand to stop it from going the length of my arm. It’s a bloody mess—and I mean that literally. Not in the British-swear-word way.

I move to step toward him and bang my knee on the desk, knocking over a different frame next to the computer.

“Sheesh, woman! Do we need to put you in a room with padded walls?” Wade grabs my shoulders, manhandling me into one of the leather chairs. “You’re a hot mess.”

“Uh…” I look up at him, completely flabbergasted—and I don’t use the term ‘flabbergasted’ lightly. It’s a rare-use word, but I think the events of the last fifteen seconds call for it.

My eyes sweep over him, just processing everything. The amusement in his eyes drifts to concern, as if he takes my non-responsiveness to mean I’m about to pass out. He leans down in front of my face. “Ari?”

And that’s when Earth-to-Ari finally kicks in. “The frame fell and broke.” I eye the one on the floor just in case he’s confused by which frame I meant. “I was just picking up some of the pieces…under the desk.”

“What is it with you and that picture?” Tragic that he remembers my past with that photo.

“I was just…” My words trail because I have no excuse.

He grabs my hand, assessing my cut. His expressive brown eyes shift to me as he smiles. “I think you’ll live.”

Before I can say anything, he leaves, returning a few seconds later with some wet paper towels and a first-aid kit. He pulls the other chair next to mine and takes a seat, opening the kit out on his lap.

“It’s fine.” I hold my hand close to my chest. “No need to play doctor or whatever your fourteen-year-old mind is imagining.”