Train shook his head at Nina.
With my chin, I motioned at the couple. “Care to share.”
“Train’s pissed,” Elvira said. “Rightfully so. Nina’s going to be trouble this year. I can feel it.”
“He seems mad at me, though,” I said.
She grabbed a towel. “Maybe because you disrupted their manly game, and he wanted to stay away from Nina.”
I understood more than anyone how going to school with your ex could be tense and irritating. I’d had to watch Nikko date other girls. Suddenly, nausea settled in my stomach. I didn’t want to cause relationship trouble. Not that I could since Train and Nina weren’t dating, but all kinds of other thoughts surfaced, like Nina trying hard to get Train back and causing trouble for anyone who wanted to date him. I was all about trouble, but not that kind. My trouble was tagging, not fighting with kids.
“I tried to apologize,” I said.
“Give Train a couple of days to get over the shock. Actually, it will take a few days for all of us to get over the shock.”
“Do you think he’ll take Nina back?” Please say no.
“No way.”
I let out a silent breath as a Kenny Chesney song pumped out of the speakers close by.
Elvira sat on the blanket then dipped into her bag and removed a comb. “That pass was awesome. I’m in awe that you can throw a perfect spiral like you should be playing football.”
I leaned into her shoulder. “Thank you.” Not many people gave me compliments. I mostly got sneers or ribbing for things I said or did. The only compliment that kids had given me was for my artwork when I was part of a graffiti crew in New York. It was only my first day with these folks, and I’d already gotten two.
I was enjoying my compliment high, when Nina breezed toward us. She picked up her bag off the sand. “I need to go.”
“So you show up to cause trouble, and now you’re leaving,” Elvira said with some grit in her tone.
“It seems you’re not happy to see me either,” Nina said. “I thought we were friends.”
“In your dreams.” Elvira pulled the comb through her hair. “Stay out of our group. And as Reagan said, leave Train alone. He doesn’t want you here, and neither do we.”
Nina pursed her lips. “That’s for him to decide. And he will come around.” She hiked her bag on her shoulder and left.
I clapped.
Elvira rested back on her elbows. “She hurt Train. And no one hurts my friends.”
I liked Elvira and Reagan. I could get used to having them as friends. But I had to do everything possible to stay away from Train. I had my own heart to protect.
Chapter Six
MONTANA
I walked into computer class early the next day, feeling sunburned after a day on the beach with my new friends. Once Nina had left, that thick pressure hanging over us lifted. The girls had played a game of volleyball, while the boys had either played football or surfed. I hadn’t ventured into the water too far, only to dip my toes in and cool off. Between my phobia of not seeing beneath me and not being able to swim all that well, I’d stayed as close to shore as I could. Elvira and Reagan had wanted to bathe in the sun, anyway. So I hadn’t felt the pressure to hang out in the water with them.
Aside from Mr. Salvatore at his desk, I was the only student in the room so far. It had been difficult to sleep last night with no air conditioning and a sunburn to boot. Mom had said that the landlord was sending someone over within a couple of days to fix the air conditioner and the toilet. I’d gone from my bed upstairs to a lounge chair on the back deck, but that hadn’t lasted long since the mosquitos had been out in full force. The good news—the rancid smell from the broken toilet was gone, thanks in part to the air fresheners my mom had set up around the house.
“Montana.” Mr. Salvatore lifted his pen. “A word, please.”
I moseyed up to his wooden desk, which was strewn with papers.
He smoothed two fingers over his mustache. “How are you doing after yesterday?”
Considering no one had gotten hurt, I was good. My mom had checked the school’s website last night. The post had explained that the experiment Drew had been working on involved sodium and water and that Drew had accidently used the wrong amount of sodium, which had caused the mini boom I’d heard. Luckily, he’d been wearing his safety gear.
“Aside from the sweaty walk to school, I’m cool.”
“On another note, I checked your records. Your grades are borderline. From what I’ve seen, one failed class, and you won’t graduate. So I want to reiterate—no trouble from you.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, wondering why he even cared about my grades. However, his warning did remind me that my mom wanted me to get a tutor, at least for science and math classes. She’d offered to help me with English if necessary. It wasn’t that I’d failed any of my classes at my last school. I’d barely passed my core subjects, which was why my GPA sucked. Hence, no room for errors.
“Yes, sir,” I said then found my seat, the same one I’d been in yesterday. I contemplated finding one as far away from Train as I could. But that would mean I would have to take one of the front-row seats that had been empty yesterday. No, thank you. I would rather have Train breathing down my neck than Mr. Salvatore. Although if Train were in a mood like he was yesterday, then he wouldn’t be bothering me. So I was probably free of any distractions. I giggled. Train was a distraction whether he was speaking, cranky, or none of the above.
Kids slowly filtered in. Behind them, Reagan sashayed in, holding her phone to one ear while she played with the end of her braid. “I’m serious.” She slid into her seat as she continued speaking into her phone. “My mom saw Casey Stewart in the grocery store yesterday.”
In all the schools I’d attended, I hadn’t heard anyone get excited over my mom or even mention her pen name. Of course, Reagan could have been referring to someone else. Listening, I stared at the beam of sunshine spilling in through the window.
“Her latest novel isn’t out yet,” Reagan said. “I can’t wait, either.”
I swallowed hard. She was talking about my mom. So much for keeping her identity on the down-low. Then again, Mom and I always knew something like this could or would happen. At least Reagan was excited, although Mom didn’t worry about the kids as much as she did about the parents. She’d had a run-in with a group of parents when I was in the tenth grade. They’d felt she was writing the devil’s work, which was one of the reasons we’d moved that year—that and I kind of tortured one of the parents’ daughters. I’d put a garden snake in the girl’s locker with a signed note. Not the smartest move, and it had been my third strike with the principal at that school.
I sat back, blowing out a breath. Calling this town home for more than a year might be rather difficult, especially if anyone started bad-mouthing my mom.
When Reagan hung up, I tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey, that was fun yesterday,” she said. “Well, except for Nina showing up. But afterward, it got better.”
“Yeah. I had fun playing volleyball with you gals. So I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I love to read. Who is Casey Stewart?” I wanted to learn how much she knew of Casey Stewart. My mom had diehard fans who knew her real name, and if we were keeping my mom’s profession a secret, I needed to know what I was up against.
Her hazel eyes glistened. “Oooh.” She glanced around at the handful of students who sat three rows over. “She’s an amazing author. She writes all kinds of steamy and erotic romance stories. My mom is a huge fan of hers.”
“Have you read any of her books?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Of course. My mom doesn’t mind. She’s not one of those moms who thinks sex is evil or shouldn’t be talked about. Here in the South, some parents don’t like their kids to even talk about sex.”
Not talking about sex wasn’t relegated to the South, but was common in cities and towns all over the country. “Does your mom know for sure that she saw t
his Casey author?”
“She went up to her to ask but then backed out. My mom can be a little shy sometimes, especially when she fangirls someone.”
The first bell rang.
I made a mental note to talk to Mom after school to let her know that some people knew Casey Stewart was in town.
Students ran in, shoving their phones in their pockets or purses. Voices buzzed through the room as kids talked to their desk mates. Clasping my hands together in my lap, I stared at the door with my pulse in overdrive. Elvira rushed through the door much like she had yesterday when she’d needed to pee. At least the bump on my head had gone down overnight, but it was still sore to the touch.
Elvira waved as she quickly breezed over to me. “I had a great time yesterday.”
“I did too. Thank you for bending my arm to join you.” Although I could’ve done without the Nina scene or Train’s brooding.
She tucked a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear. “Let’s hang out after school.”
I nodded as she dashed off to her seat.
The class filled up minus Train, and my pulse slowed until he swaggered through the door at the sound of the final bell. Well, darn. He zeroed in on me as he ran his fingers through his damp hair, which was curled at his nape. My pulse sped up, ratcheting up even more as I gawked, wanting nothing more than to run my hands along Train’s strong jaw, which looked to be as smooth as a baby’s bottom.
His long, thick legs carried him across the room, his jeans riding low on his hips. He wore a gray T-shirt that read Puck This.
My pulse was speeding at a hundred miles per hour as he got closer. If there was air conditioning on in the room, I couldn’t feel it. My body broke out in perspiration, and I tried to remember if I’d put on deodorant that morning. But the closer he got, my hygiene and anything else went out the window, especially when he practically snarled at me.
Now my pulse was racing a different tune. I bit my tongue, afraid I might blurt something out and get sent to the principal’s office. Then I scolded myself. The principal’s office didn’t scare me. After all, I was an expert when it came to dealing with principals. I was Montana Smith—spunky, courageous, and brazen. That last word was how my mom would describe me. She’d always said that in the little time she knew my father he’d been brazen.
Train plopped down into his chair, which was, at most, an arm’s length from mine. It didn’t matter if he was two arms’ length from me. His ocean scent knocked me back in my chair, idling my ire for a moment. I would bet he went surfing that morning before school. Or maybe that scrumptious odor was all him with no colognes or salt water.
Mr. Salvatore passed out papers. “Today, we’ll discuss HTML coding that will help with your senior computer project.”
Papers shuffled around as whispers followed.
I knew how to use a computer. I knew how to get around on my phone, but I’d only heard of HTML from Mom when she was discussing her website with her web designer. She’d explained that HTML was computer language that bolded letters or changed font colors.
I raised my hand.
Mr. Salvatore picked up a sheaf of papers. “What is it, Ms. Smith?”
“I thought we were learning about Photoshop.” I’d read that was one of the topics in computer class. I’d been interested to learn the program since an artist could do some neat things with Photoshop.
“You will. But for your project, you’ll also need to understand HTML.”
I flipped through the two-page document he handed out as he continued to talk. On the top of the first page was the definition of HTML—Hypertext Markup Language.
Mr. Salvatore rested on the edge of his desk as he scanned the room. “You’ll pair up with a partner to build an app. The requirements are no games, nothing related to sports, and the app has to be something unique that could benefit an organization or company. For example, think business; think school. What app might benefit a business owner or maybe a college student? Some of your parents run big companies. Start to pick their brains. Go through the App Store and see what’s out there. And no copying code from other apps on the web. You’ll be given a program that will help you build the app from scratch. But the brains behind it and how you build it come from you and your partner. I want to see a preliminary outline in two weeks. Any questions?”
All I got from his speech was the word “partner.” I had to pair up with someone, which meant my partner could be the panty-wetting boy next to me. A droplet of sweat trickled down my lower back.
Elvira raised her hand. “Do we get to pick our partners?”
“I’ve taken the liberty of pairing you up,” he said.
The class protested. “We want to pick our own partners,” one boy said. “I don’t want my grade affected by someone who isn’t going to do the work.”
Mr. Salvatore pushed down his hands as though he were bouncing a basketball. “Quiet. I choose the teams. Call it a primer for the adult world you’ll be facing soon. You won’t always get to work with friends.”
Another boy on the far side of the room said, “This is bullshit.”
“Mr. Radcliffe, would you like to pass this class?”
The red-haired boy clammed up.
Please don’t put me with Radcliffe. I would be in hell trying to get that boy to work with me. And please don’t put me with Train. Otherwise, I wouldn’t learn anything. Instead, my panties would be damp the entire time. Or with my luck, Nina would clobber me for working with Train. Or after the way he’d snarled at me, we would be dueling it out. The latter would be quite fun. But then I wouldn’t pass the class.
Mr. Salvatore picked up a notebook. “The partners are as follows.” As he began reading off names, nausea swirled inside me. Kids began to whisper their excitement or dread.
“Ms. Smith and Mr. Everly, you two are a pair.”
Train choked. The blood drained from my face, I think more because of his disgust when Mr. Salvatore had read my name. I jerked my head at Train. He narrowed his eyes at me, and they seemed to turn a wretched pukey green. Yippee. We were going to be a great pair at nothing other than failing. I sneered at him. He grimaced. I was ready to throw down because I wasn’t about to fail.
“Okay, I want you to get with your partner and start brainstorming,” the teacher said.
Everyone moved around until they were with their partners. I popped out of my chair and stormed up to Mr. Salvatore.
He opened his laptop. “What is it, Ms. Smith?”
“Um. I don’t think Train is the right partner for me,” I whispered. Thankfully, the noise level was rather loud with everyone talking.
He crossed his arms over his red golf shirt. “And why is that?”
“You said yourself that my grades are borderline, so I assume I would need an A to bring up my grades.”
“So you think by working with Train, you’ll fail?”
Oh, hell yeah. “He’s got football and practice.” I couldn’t exactly say whether Train was smart or not. That wasn’t even the reason for my protest. But I certainly wasn’t about to tell Mr. Salvatore that I didn’t trust myself around Train. Nor could I argue that Train didn’t like me or want to work with me since Mr. Salvatore had said he was teaching us life skills. He also probably wouldn’t accept the argument that Train had ex-girlfriend issues I didn’t want to deal with.
“Regardless of football, Ms. Smith, Train has to do the work like everyone else.”
“But why did you put me with him?”
He studied me. “I’m giving you an opportunity to get a good grade in this class.”
“Wait, you think I can get a good grade with Train?”
“Ms. Smith, if you have any questions about Train’s capabilities, ask him yourself. Now return to your seat and start brainstorming with your partner.”
With all the willpower I could muster, I headed back to my seat, only to find Train with a smart-ass grin.
“Didn’t get your way?” His Southern drawl about m
ade me weak in the knees.
I flared my nostrils. “What’s your problem?”
“Right now, it’s you complaining. I don’t want to work with you, either.” He pinned me with his gaze as if I were the scum of the earth. “Tell you what. You think of an app, and when you’re ready, I’ll do my part. That way, we spend little time together.” He slouched in his seat.
I ground my teeth together. “I was going to apologize for yesterday, but forget it. I’m glad I suggested football. Or maybe your little ego is also bruised over a girl throwing a football.” Derek’s had been.
Train let out a low growl.
“Ah, I hit a nerve. Mmm.” Maybe all his anger yesterday hadn’t only stemmed from Nina’s presence. Maybe he was upset over me throwing a football. I nibbled on my bottom lip as I considered him. “You know what? I might pay a visit to your coach and see if I can try out for the team. Girls do play football.” Okay, I was stretching things a bit. Girls did play football, but I didn’t. Plus, Train was irritating me with his snarl and the disgust written all over his face.
He bared his teeth. Bingo. I hit a really deep nerve. He wanted to be an ass. Well, let the games begin.
Chapter Seven
TRAIN
Coach Holmes yelled at us from the sidelines as the offensive line huddled together while our defense waited for us to break. “Get your heads out of your asses and move.”
I wished mine were up my ass. Then I wouldn’t be replaying how fucking pretty Montana had looked when she’d gotten all mad and stormed up to Salvatore to find another partner. I’d thought she was hot when she walked into class yesterday, setting the classroom on fire as if she owned the room, even more so after I watched in utter fascination how she’d thrown the football during our quick game on the beach yesterday. She hadn’t hurt my ego. If anything, her with a football affected my libido.
Sure, I was trying not to get involved with girls, but I was ornery because Nina was back. I’d thought my senior year would be smooth sailing. Fuck. Not in the least. On one hand, I had Nina to deal with. No, you don’t. You don’t owe her anything. On the other hand, I had a gorgeous blonde who was fire and ice, a combination that excited me. But the combination also gave me reason to pause.
Breaking Rules Page 5