Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
With no time to change, we’re ushered outside, my sneakers crunching against the leaves that have already started to fall to the ground, as the air jarringly hits my bare legs and arms.
I’m freezing my ass off.
We soon learn that this is not a drill, which means it’s going to take forever. It’s not a real emergency either, but just some idiot who pulled the alarm. Still, we have to wait for the firemen to arrive, and for them to search the entire school.
Did I mention I’m freezing my ass off?
Everyone starts talking as we wait, thrilled to be missing class. I begin to walk in circles, focusing on alternating the pressure from one foot to the other, desperately trying to warm up.
“And you’re wearing that because?” I stop mid-hop, my chemistry teacher standing directly in front of me, looking hotter than ever as his eyes travel up and down my body. His question catches me off guard, because how can he not see the others around us, also wearing their gym clothes, most in short sleeves and or shorts too.
“Gym,” I force a tight smile, praying my teeth don’t start chattering.
“Right,” he nods, finally noticing everyone else in the vicinity. “And I suppose it would be a little weird if I offer only you my jacket?”
“Probably,” I smile, looking down. The bumps on my pale legs reminding me just how cold I really am.
“I’m gonna do it anyway,” he shrugs off his blazer.
“Oh, n-,” I start to protest, but he shoots me a look and I shut up. “But what about everyone else?”
“I noticed you first,” he disregards the people around us, but I can’t help staring at them. No one has a coat, as they are obviously still in their lockers. Granted, most in other classes are wearing long sleeves or sweaters, except for those who are also in my gym period, but still. No other teacher is offering his or her jacket to anyone!
“Luci,” he chuckles at my weariness, and the sound of my name sends even more goose bumps down my arm. “It’s just a jacket. It’s really not a big deal.”
I take it from him and slide my hands through the sleeves; it’s warm and comforting. It even smells like him, and I try to be conspicuous as I inhale his mouthwatering scent. It’s like being enveloped in him, and really, what could be better?
“So how’s the book coming along?” He sticks his hands in his pockets, his blue button down further illuminating his eyes. His nose is turning red, and I feel bad that he’s now probably chilly.
“Napoleon’s army just occupied Moscow.”
“Ah, so you’re nearing the end,” he smiles.
“I don’t think it’ll ever end,” I roll my eyes and he laughs loudly. How can he be so kind and gentle now, yet most of the time regard me with such distaste, just by a simple look?
“Have you read it?” I ask, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling the smooth cloth of his blazer.
“A long time ago,” he confesses. “It’s not the best Tolstoy book, though.”
“Yeah,” I agree, staring at him intently. He’s like this huge, stunning mystery.
“What?” He asks, folding his arms.
“Nothing,” I shake my head. “Are you cold now?”
“Of course not,” he smiles, but I know it’s a lie. “What about you? Are you still cold?”
“No,” I’m still shaking my head; a million ways for us to warm up are running through it. I’d do any one of them. Or all. I’d do them all with him.
“Guess I’m stuck with you until the drill ends then,” he clears his throat as he looks around us, nodding to a teacher in the distance. “You know, because I have to make sure I get that jacket back.” His faces me again, his expression now annoyed, back to the glare I’m most used to. I flinch, and just when we were making progress too!
“I’m not gonna run off with it,” I scowl back. “Besides, you know where I’ll be eighth period.” He nods, and I’m kicking myself. So stupid! I have to think quickly, so that we keep on talking, so that he doesn’t walk away…. think!
“So what’s that new movie everyone is talking about? The one that came out the other week?” God, what a stupid thing to say!
“Joy Ride?” He asks, no doubt curious over my random question, his face still full of disdain.
“Yeah!” I exclaim. “I haven’t seen it yet,” I admit, wondering where the hell I’m going with this. “Have you?”
“No,” his expression lightens. “But, then again, I’m only into good movies.”
“It’s supposed to be good,” I counter, relaxing, because as each moment passes his face loosens more and more. “Besides,” I sigh. “What constitutes as a good movie?”
“Star Wars.” He’s so matter of fact and cocky. I want to hate him, but I laugh instead.