“Dylan,” she called and the kid yelled back, “Yo!”
“Hard not to see you’re ripped,” Rocky commented and Dylan immediately stood and cut some poses, flexing his muscles while more wads of paper were thrown at him and comments were shouted. Dylan ignored them, kept posing and Rocky spoke over them. “That kind of strength, I bet any bully you saw in the halls doing stuff and saying stuff they shouldn’t, you called them on it, they’d stop. That’s strength and compassion.” She grinned. “Now you just have to pass my midterm and maybe you’ll add wisdom to that.”
The class burst into laughter, Dylan grinned back at Rocky, sat down and another kid called out, “Don’t hold your breath, Ms. Merrick!”
The bell rang and Rocky held up her hands. “All right, more Jem, Scout, Boo and Atticus tomorrow and Friday because we’re watching the movie and I’m introducing you to Gregory Peck so be prepared to get your socks knocked off. But remember, Friday, I want you all to bring in the title of your favorite song. We’re talking lyrics, not music, people. And if one of you brings in the title to a boy band song, automatic detention,” she threatened, there was more laughter and she turned toward the stage, saying, “Dismissed.”
The kids shot up and filed out and as they did, Layne realized that every one of them had read the damned book. There was mass participation but even though he barely tore his eyes off Rocky, he’d noticed even the kids who hadn’t called out comments or questions had been totally engaged.
He stepped into the auditorium from the entryway, the kids saw him and some of them stared, some grinned, some nudged others and avoided his eyes.
But when Dylan saw him, he turned back and shouted helpfully, “Mr. Layne is here, Ms. Merrick!” and a bunch of girls giggled when he did.
Rocky had been picking up her papers but she whirled at Dylan’s comment, scanned the back and her eyes locked on Layne as he strode forward. She dropped her papers and started up the aisle toward him, meeting him halfway with a smile.
“Hey,” she said softly through her smile.
“Hey,” he replied and tore his gaze off her dimple to look in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.
“Wanted to watch you do your thing,” Layne answered.
The smile faded but her lips parted and she stared up at him with something in her eyes he couldn’t quite read.
So he guessed.
“Baby, I was only there for ten minutes. I didn’t –” he started to explain but she cut him off on a whisper.
“You wanted to watch me do my thing?”
Layne studied her face, still couldn’t read it so he kept explaining. “You made me want to reread that book and the way you did it made me appreciate it in a way I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t loved it so much. You told me you were teaching it and…” Layne stopped talking when she looked down and to the side and he lifted a hand to curl it around her neck. “Roc.”
Her head twisted back, her eyes locked on his and she whispered, “Jarrod didn’t discuss my kids, my work, none of it. He had zero interest. None. And you’re spread so thin it’s a wonder you aren’t transparent and you find the time…”
She suddenly trailed off, bent to the side, dislodging his hand and looked around him as he heard the sounds of kids entering the auditorium.
“Up front, center, first three rows,” she called to the kids. “Kayla, do me a favor and tell folks when they come in. Mr. Layne and I need a minute.”
“Sure, Ms. Merrick,” Kayla called back and Layne wasn’t sure what was going on in Rocky’s head, even though he figured it was good, but he was fucking thrilled the “Ms. Merrick” thing had caught on.
Rocky grabbed his hand, her fingers wrapping strong around his and she tugged him down the aisle and along the front of the seats. She kept hold of his hand as she led him up the steps at the side of the stage and then ducked backstage with him.
When they were out of eyesight, she stopped, kept hold of his hand and stepped into him so their bodies were nearly brushing.
“Okay, well, it goes without saying if a hot private investigator can’t make out with me at a football game, I can’t lay one on a hot private investigator in the school with my class assembling fifty feet away so you’ll just have to make do with the knowledge I really, really want to make out with you right now, Tanner Layne,” she announced and he grinned as he stifled a laugh.
He dropped her hand and put both of his to her hips, bringing her the inch forward he needed for their bodies actually to be brushing while he murmured, “Sweetcheeks.”
She rested her hands on his chest and asked, “Was it okay?”
“Was what okay?”
“The lesson. There’s just so much to say with that book, you can’t get to it all so I have to melt it down. I mean, we could talk about it for a month and not –”
Layne cut her off. “It was okay.”
She stared into his eyes. “You sure?”
He dipped his face closer to hers and whispered, “Baby, they were eatin’ it up.”
She instantly blew off his compliment. “It’s a good class. Those kids are bright.”
“No, Roc, you’re a good teacher. Those kids might be bright but you make it interesting and I reckon you changed a few lives in there today, or at least the way they look at things.”
“You think?” she whispered.
“Oh yeah,” Layne whispered back.
She smiled, eyes bright with dimple and, fuck, but he wanted to kiss her.
“You need to negotiate a new contract, sweetcheeks,” Layne informed her and she burst out laughing then tilted her head down and pressed the top into his chest above her hands before she leaned back and looked up at him.
“Guess what?” she asked, the laughter still playing about her lips.
“What?” he asked back, watching her mouth.
“Adrian Cosgrove called in sick Monday and yesterday,” she stated and his eyes went to hers.
“Yeah, you told me.”