Deliciously Destroyed

8. Laugh

Slowly, I start to relax around mister Yearwood and mister Templeton.

They're not mad. At least, not at me. I'm still scared to what's gonna happen—what if everything just gets worse?

But I try to push that off my mind for now. With Yearwood at my left and Templeton and my right, I feel protected. Ezra and Silas won't try anything when I'm with them.

"So why are you not in my class?" Yearwood asks, his voice light and casual. My shoulders relax more while we walk through the museum.

"Um—I don't really know," I lie, fumbling with the sleeves of the hoodie. He chuckles. "We both know that's bullshit."

Well hello, tomato-Aaron is back. I avert my eyes and look at Templeton's shoes. They're black, but not really something special.

"Where did you buy those?" I blurt. Mister Templeton's eyebrows raise before he looks down at what I'm pointing at.

It's probably obvious I'm trying to dodge the subject.

"I don't know, in a shop," he shrugs. And there goes the last normal color in my face. I'm sure I'm completely tomato-red right now.

Of course it's in a shop. Am I stupid?

"Right," I mumble, "sorry." His eyebrows knit together in a frown, but he doesn't say anything, thankfully. I don't need any comments on how dumb I am.

"So you're only in Ada's class?" Yearwood asks. I bite my lip. Ada?

"Miss Sanders," Templeton fills in. Oh. I nod. "Yeah. T-the others were full."

Mister Yearwood frowns. "Mine's not. I've seen your schedule, and you're in Stansley's class. Why would you put yourself through torture?"

I wince again. "I-I didn't have a chance to choose." They're both frowning now.

I shrug a little. "My account got hacked before I could assign to any classes. I found out it were them again, but it doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck in these classes, but it's okay. I'm sure I'm not smart enough to keep up with yours," I silently chuckle, trying to lighten their moods.

Because they do not look amused right now.

"You do know that's illegal, right?" Templeton asks. I give another shrug. "I'll live." At least, I hope so.

Clearly, my answer doesn't satisfy them, but they stop talking about it. I'm relieved by that, because I don't want to.

I pull the paper with questions out of my backpack, which is on a locker. I better get doing these.

Yearwood gives me a surprised glance. "You're actually doing those?" My eyes widen as I look up at him.

Goddamn, big mistake. He's for sure six feet two, with firm green eyes staring down at me. If he weren't a teacher of my college, I'd say smash.

Blushing, I look away. God, I can't think these things. What were we talking about again?

Questions. Work. Right. "Well, they're assignments, right? Aren't they required?" I ask, and give myself mentally a fucking medal for not stuttering.

Templeton snorts, leafing through the ten pages of questions. "I've never even seen those. We just give everyone attitude grades, they're not based on these."

My jaw drops in outrage. "But I always spend so much time on these! Oh my God, and the ones in the swimming pool last year?"

Yearwood grins. "You were the one that actually turned those in? God," he laughs. Templeton joins him, laughing along at my dumbness.

I grumble. "I spent three hours on answering question about the building when everything was fucking sliding down the water slide."

They wheeze even louder. Eventually, I snicker along. It is pretty funny I'm this stupid.

"Poor boy!" Yearwood chuckles. Templeton wipes his laughing tears away. "God, I can't believe you actually thought these questions were valuable. They're probably just from a teacher on the brink of desperation for some peace."

He takes them from me, scanning the pages. Then, he smirks. Yearwood and him lock eyes. "Guess who."

The man on my left smirks too. "Don't tell me it's Aiden." Templeton nods, chuckling again. "This fucker."

He notices my confused ass, though I try to hide it. "Aiden Whitlock. You know? He was just here." He looks around, then points at mister Whitlock, who's suspiciously close to miss Sanders.

I guess that's okay, since they're a couple. Mister Whitlock and miss Sanders are actually a good match, both are truly terrifying.

They're always glaring at every student, and sometimes I even wonder why they teach. From every single student I've overheard they're very strict.

And I know miss Sanders is very strict. I mean, last time we got a test I was the only one to have an A and we've really heard it. Man, she was so mad.

"Hey, look at this one," Yearwood nods at a skeleton. I look up, but don't recognize it.

I look back at him, and am surprised to see him pretending to be the dino. A laugh flies out of my mouth, startling me.

But he doesn't look surprised I laughed. In fact, it's almost as if that was his intention. We walk to the next tone and again, he imitates the skeleton.

My smile is glued to my face while we walk through the museum, especially when mister Templeton adds sounds.

When we're at the T-rex, Yearwood shows me his teeth. Templeton snickers. "I know this one. Iya!"

I have no idea what is happening, but it sure as hell is entertaining. Yearwood frowns and shakes his head. "No, loser. It's more like ayi."

I snort, making both of them look at me. "Absolutely," Yearwood nods, grinning himself, "I agree."

Templeton even claps in his hands. "Perfect noise for mister Bright, ladies and gentlemen!" He even nods at all the invisible watchers around us or something, but no one is around.

I shush him quickly before anyone enters the room. "Shh, someone can come in, mister Templeton!"

His smile fades before he frowns. "You can call me Micah. And that's Seb. Short for Sebastian."

My eyes roam over their faces, but they don't look forced to do this. "Are you sure?" I bite my lip. Isn't this disrespectful?

"Of course, we're kind of bonding anyway," mister Templeton—no, Micah, goddamnit—laughs and playfully pushes my shoulder. "Up to the next one," Sebastian nods and off we go.

I try my hardest to keep the blush on my insides.