Stop obsessing about him, Chiara!
“Don’t you think there are better comedies?”
I so don’t want to analyze Election’s screenplay. Too close for comfort.
“Probably. I just caught it on TV the other night, and it got stuck in my head.”
We keep throwing names left and right, but we don’t agree on anything. It seems we have different ideas about what’s funny and not.
“This is impossible.” Josh tosses his pen on the table in frustration and leans back in his chair. “We should change genre.”
“No way. I want to analyze a comedy script. Let’s search for a list of the top comedy movies and see if we can agree on something,” I reply.
“Fair enough.”
I click on the first link, which gives us a well-curated list from more recent movies to old classics.
I’m halfway through the page when Josh tells me to stop. “That’s it. We should do Napoleon Dynamite.”
I twist my nose as I read the synopsis. “It doesn’t sound funny.”
“Trust me. That movie is great. We could watch it together.”
My shields go up automatically. His offer sounds innocent, but what if he sees it as an opening for more? I don’t want to add another complication to my life.
“Nah, it’s okay. If you say it’s good, I trust you.”
“You should watch it anyway, even if not with me.”
Shit. Did I offend him?
Chancing a glance at his face, I find him staring at his laptop screen with serious intent.
I turn back to my own screen, wrestling with feelings of guilt. Maybe Josh didn’t mean anything by inviting me to a movie session. But what if he did? The last thing I want is to lead him on. I came to DuBose looking for a clean slate, but somehow I found more drama here than I had back home.
I slept with my teacher. If that doesn’t earn me a scarlet letter, what does?
ALISTAIR
I catch a glimpse of them in the library, and it feels like I’ve been sucker punched. Jealousy rears its ugly head, making me see red. It’s completely wrong for me to want to punch a student in the face, but that’s what I want to do to Josh Flannigan. They’re not doing anything besides working on an assignment together, yet here I am, seething with white-hot rage.
That’s it. I’ve gone insane.
I turn around and get the hell out of there, having forgotten why I went to the library in the first place. One thing is certain: I need to get my head straight; otherwise, I’ll end up doing something stupid.
I pull my cell phone out and log into the dating app I downloaded after Nadine and I split. The app claims it will help me find my perfect match, but it’s nothing more than a glorified booty call. The two women I found through it had nothing in common with me. I took them out to dinner, fucked them, and that was the end of it.
Since the last time I logged in, I’ve accumulated over three hundred invitations to start a conversation. Jesus fucking Christ. I didn’t realize I was so popular.
I don’t have time to go through them all, so I delete everything without looking and start a search of my own. When the filter results only show young, pretty blondes, I realize I entered Chiara’s attributes in my search.
Fuck me.
Goldilocks has gotten under my skin, and I have no idea how I’m going to stop wanting her now that I’m forced to see her once a week.
I’m doomed.
17
Chiara
Three Days Later
I watched the comedy Josh suggested alone. Did I enjoy the movie? Sure. Was it the best comedy of all time? Not really. We met a couple of times this week to work on our assignment, and there were no more invitations to do anything together later. A relief. With that unwanted complication out of the way, we were able to establish an easygoing rapport. He seems to be a nice guy, very dedicated to his studies.
I didn’t bump into Alistair after his class. I’m glad writer’s room is an elective and I only have to see him once a week.
The assignment is due on Monday. None of my other teachers gave out big assignments with such a short deadline, but Robbie said Alistair is known for being hard core.
Today, Josh and I work at the library again on the final edits. We’re done in under an hour, and he doesn’t linger. He says he has to pick up his brother and bails before I even finish packing my stuff up.
Since school is done for the day, and I have no desire to go back to my apartment, I decide to take a stroll through my neighborhood because I haven’t had the chance to explore it yet.
My stomach rumbles loudly, and I remember reading somewhere that there’s a donut shop that has the best treats in town. I pull up my phone and search on Google Maps. Sure enough, there’s a big donut symbol on the commercial street behind my building. Ditzy Donuts. The name rings a bell.
I shoot a text to Robbie, asking if he wants to meet me there for coffee. He replies that he’ll be there in ten. I arrive before him, and to kill time, I send Max a couple of selfies in front of the shop. Bending in the most awkward positions, I try to capture my face and the sign in the same frame, but without a selfie stick, it’s almost impossible to get the right angle.
“Need help with that?” a voice that still evokes all sorts of wrong feelings asks from behind me.
Flustered, I almost drop my phone as I spin around with my heart now stuck in my throat. Alistair is standing too close to me in all his six-foot-three hotness, holding a box of donuts.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out like I have the right to know.
I’m such a dumbass.
He raises an eyebrow, displaying a phantom of a smirk on his lips. “Getting sugar treats for a faculty meeting.”
What a one-eighty change in attitude. He was furious with me on Monday after he found out I was high. Here he is now acting like the Alistair I fell in love with in Italy. My heart is fluttering like a hummingbird in my chest.
“Gotcha.”
He points at the phone in my hand. “Do you need help taking a picture?”
I want to say no and run away. But that would be stupid as hell. There’s nothing illicit about a teacher offering to help a student out. It’s just an innocent picture.
“Yes, if you don’t mind. Max loves donuts. I want to make him jealous that I’m about to order the biggest one they have.”
