“Are you sore at all?” I whispered into her hair as we walked into school Monday morning.
Her breathing hitched, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “A little.”
“Good,” I mumbled and hooked my arm around her neck, pulling her in.
I’d taken her back to her house on Saturday night, after Homecoming, and punished her for keeping me at arm’s length all damn week by keeping her up all damn night.
After spending Sunday with my brother and not being able to talk to Tate—because I’d stupidly left my phone at the Beckman party, and it was stolen—I’d crept into her room last night and fallen asleep with her in my arms.
But I woke her up early. We were both half asleep, but it was still hot.
She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re such an ego-maniac,” she complained.
I looked down at her, grinning. “And you love it.”
“Do not,” she pouted, and I put my lips to her forehead.
Yes, you do.
I sighed. “Then I’ll change,” I promised.
“Damn right you will.”
She stopped at her locker, but I stayed behind her, holding her hips. I was becoming a big-pile-of-whipped, but I couldn’t not touch her when she was close.
People had been looking at us during the past week. Used to seeing us as enemies and me never with my hands on a girl in public, they seemed pretty confused.
But instead of shying away and putting on my tough guy face, I gave them all the middle finger.
Well, figuratively.
Looking down the row, I saw Piper and Nate with their heads together, and then they turned to eyeball me.
My stomach rolled, not because I couldn’t handle either of them, but I didn’t want Tate to even register their presence.
She was going to be happy…or else.
Nate looked amused, even with the remnants of the black eye I’d given him weeks ago, while Piper scrunched up her lips like she was disgusted. Her eyes were angry, though, and unease nestled into the back of my brain.
Great.
I was sure I’d be in for a confrontation before the end of the day.
“Alright.” Tate turned around and hugged her books. “I’m off. Are you walking me?”
“No, I have to get my ass to the counselor’s office, actually.”
Saying the word counselor had me wanting to upchuck, but it was required for all Seniors.
“Ah, the what-are-your-future-plans? talk ,” she teased while nodding her head.
I almost let out a laugh with the way my heart jumped. “The only future plans I have are taking you to see a concert over Thanksgiving,” I said quietly as I pulled two tickets out of my pocket.
“Oh!” Her eyes widened, and she snatched the tickets out of my hand. “You didn’t! Avenged Sevenfold!”
“Belated birthday present,” I explained. “I was waiting for them to go on sale.” A grin tickled my jaw as I tried to hold it back. “You like Avenged Sevenfold, right?”
As much time as Tate and I had spent apart, I still had to remind myself that there was stuff I may not know about her anymore.
She looked at me like I had three heads. “Like Avenged Sevenfold?” She held out her arms for me to see the black T-shirt—the Avenged Sevenfold T-shirt— she wore under her little, black cardigan. “M. Shadows is my everything,” she teased.
“Hey.” I partially scowled and partially smiled, pulling her into me. She let out a raspy laugh.
“Thank you,” she whispered into my lips, pulling me in.
“You can thank me more later.”
Pulling back, she playfully shoved my chest away. “Go. Go to your appointment and make plans for a New York college.”
I barely had time to roll my eyes before she turned around and walked down the hall.
“So your grades look good. Not great but enough to get into a good school.” Ms. Varner opened a file folder—my folder—and regurgitated the same conversation she’d no doubt spewed at the other three hundred seniors she’d talked to this month.
I sat there, arms at ease on the arm rests with one ankle resting on the other knee. The air in the room was thick, but I stayed because the principal would harass the students who made these meetings difficult. I sat, I stayed, and I would get out as easily as possible.
“What colleges are you considering?” she asked, looking at me with concern.
“Undecided.” I barely unclenched my teeth for my usual one-word answers.
Her eyes narrowed, and she studied me for a moment before pulling a packet out of the folder.
“Are you interested in seeing what the career test said about you?” she asked without even looking at me.
“No.”
“It said,” she continued as if I’d said nothing, “that you have strengths in leadership.”
What the…?
“Like a coach?” I blurted out.
Me and sports? Me working in a school for the rest of my life earning shit pay. Yeah, that’d be a whole fucking waste of a life.
She covered her smile with her hand. “No,” her voice cracked with a laugh. “Like the military or politics.”
Like West Point, Mr. Brandt’s voice came back to haunt me.
No, maybe owning my own shop someday or running races, but not driving tanks or flying jets…
Wait…
“Yeah, okay.” I shook off the images of me in a cockpit. “I’ll think about it.” I stood up to leave with no intention of thinking about it.
“Jared,” she called, and I stopped. “The test also says you’re a protector, a nurturer...” she trailed off as my eyes widened.
What the fuck?
“You might want to consider careers in health care or youth guidance.” And she looked down, almost embarrassed.
Youth guidance?
My face probably looked like someone just told me I was born from wolves. When I looked at her, I saw a crazy lady.
“Get your test checked,” I grumbled and walked out the door.
A fucking youth guidance pilot?