Born Wicked

XII

He walks into class and students are chatting amongst themselves, a few are reading; like I am, sitting by myself at the front of the room. Instead of individual desks, the class has four rows of two long tables shoved together, with chairs lined up behind them all facing the front of the room.

There is a wide desk for the teacher and it sits facing the student tables, and behind it is Ms. Conner, a petite woman with dark hair, thirty-something, with small, dark eyes, glasses and a non-descript dress. She looks up at Ethan over the rim of her glasses with a soft, quizzical expression. "Ethan Call?"

He nods, his dark hair looks soft and weirdly blue in the fluorescent lighting. "That's me."

She smiles. "Heard you were joining us yesterday, must have missed you?" she says it like a question. "Welcome to homeroom. Find a seat, they aren't assigned, an empty chair does it."

He returns her smile with an easy one of his own. And my heart somersaults in my chest.

Dimples popping like bubbles, with the slightest quirk of his lips. My breath stutters in my chest. His lips look very pink and very smooth.

"Okay." He says, still grinning.

He scans the room, and I duck my head back into my book. I feel it when his gaze lands on me like a blanket. I feel a warm buzz, oddly familiar and then—

I can't seem to remember a damn thing about yesterday, really. I give a mental shrug and head over to an empty seat next to Jayme-Lynn.

She doesn't look up from her book. I mean, doesn't even pause. I frown.

"You ignoring me?" I ask softly.

I see her flinch which deepens my frown. She sighs and flips the book over, resting it the table to mark her page. "Hi, Ethan."

"You helped me yesterday," I say, tapping the map on top of my binder.

She looks down at the paper quickly and grimaces. I can't seem to tear my gaze away from her lips. Soft, full, pink and twisted into the cutest little pout I've ever seen.

She turns her head toward me and says, "Yeah, we met during Calculus. In the hall. You were lost."

"I was?" I say, still watching her mouth.

Her lips curl at the edge and she offers a wry smirk. "Yeah."

There's something familiar about the curve of her lower lip. The weight cradled by a soft, slender chin. The bow of her top lip sweeps across it in a way that makes me think of the sun setting on the horizon. A perfect paint stroke of pink to light the sky.

Remember me. –was that him?

"What?" she asks, her eyes wide with alarm.

I rip my eyes away from her mouth and up to hers and feel the tips of my ears burn.

"Sorry, I just—" I shrug. I don't know how to finish that sentence without sounding crazy.

She's already looking at me like she's terrified, best to not make that worse. I run my hands roughly through my hair. "Nothing."