I smile back at him. “I usually grade through lunch—I can get a lot done with a half hour of peace and quiet. But I suppose I couldn’t have a full teaching experience without witnessing the cafeteria in all its glory.”

I gesture to the Tastykake table, and Jeremy makes a face.

“Well, then maybe getting assigned to chaperone lunch is a good thing,” he says before digging into his spaghetti.

I watch him from the corner of my eye as he chews and swallows. There’s something about Jeremy that’s just rich—like he’s stronger than he seems based on the depth of his features. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t have noticed this about him before—except, of course, for the fact that my eyes and attention have been completely preoccupied with another guy. Maybe—maybe it’s time for me to be a little less concerned about Smith Asher and a little more open to . . . other options.

“Is there something on my face?”

Shit.

“No—sorry. I just zoned out there for a minute.”

His mouth twitches with a tiny smile and he digs back into his noodles.

“Would it embarrass you, Hyacinth,” he says slowly, “if I said that you can stare at me for as long as you want?”

I look over at him and raise an eyebrow. He gives a little shrug.

“Just saying.”

He takes a big bite of his food, then glances around the room. I suppose I should probably be doing that, too, considering I’m supposed to be keeping my eye on things. I look over the crowds of students—some at tables, some standing in line for their lunch—and I pretend like I’m not looking for someone specific.

At least, not until my eyes fall on him.

Smith’s standing with Cherry again, and I can feel my lip begin to curl. Jeremy takes one look at my face, then follows my gaze.

“Oh—that girl.” He rolls his eyes. “She sure can pick ’em, huh?”

I bite down on the inside of my bottom lip and try to steady my voice. “What do you mean?”

His eyebrows rise a bit and he takes a sip from his water bottle. “What? You don’t know the deal with Smith Asher?”

I give a little shrug. “I guess not.”

He snorts a little, then shakes his head. “I don’t know him all that well, but his brother, Eric, seems to think he’s on a bad path.”

“Eric? He’s the—uh—SRO, right?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

Jeremy nods.

“Yep. Apparently, Smith is a big fuckup—trouble with the law and all that. I’m pretty sure he’s been arrested before.”

I bristle at this. Sure, Smith had told me that there were some brushes with the law in his past. But, I wouldn’t call him a fuckup by any stretch.

“I’ve never seen that side of him,” I say, hoping I sound indifferent. “That doesn’t sound like the Smith I know.”

Fantastic. This just keeps getting better and better.

“So, Hyacinth . . .”

I glance over at Jeremy and he leans in a little closer.

“I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, go out sometime. With me.”

I blink at him. Then I blink again. It’s the last thing I expected him to say.

“I mean, I know you’re busy with student teaching and you’ve got a lot going on—I just thought maybe we could get dinner or something.”

I force myself to consider the offer. I’ve been so embroiled in drama and ridiculous Smith Asher nonsense, Maybe I should let myself have some fun. Go on a date with someone who actually has a high school diploma. And actually hasn’t, apparently, been to jail.

“I’d like that,” I finally say quietly. “To go to dinner, I mean.”

“Sweet!” Jeremy’s brown eyes light up from within and he grins at me. “Are you free Friday?”

I pluck a pretzel out of my plastic bag. “Yeah, actually, I am.”

“Then it’s a date.” He suddenly stands up and gives me a little wink. I can’t help but smile as he strolls out of the cafeteria, then shake my head. He is charming, I will give him that. And a nice distraction.

But when the bell rings to end lunch and students begin pour out of the cafeteria doors, I find myself locking eyes with Smith again. He’s coming closer and, when he’s a few feet from me, he narrows his eyes.

“So you and Mr. Christopher, huh?” he says under his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter. Smith snorts.

“Please. You were practically sitting on his lap and dry humping him.”

I stiffen and start to move away, but he blocks my path.

“He’s a tool.”

I glare at him.

“At least he’s not a student,” I say, practically spitting the words.

I try not to think about him watching me as I walk away. I try not to think about my exit as a retreat. Instead, I hold my head up and force myself to move slowly through the crowd of students. I need to put as much space between me and Smith as possible.

Somehow, I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.

***

“Cheers!”

Rainey holds up her cocktail, and Carson and I follow suit. We all take long sips of the sweet-and-salty drink.

“Man, whoever thought of Margarita Mondays is a genius,” Carson says, glancing around the La Tolteca dining room in approval. She grins at me as I go in for a second sip.

“That night at Cave really opened you up to drinking liquor, Cyn.” Rainey nudges my shoulder. “First it’s margaritas, next it’s moonshine.”

I roll my eyes at her, then take another drink.

“So, how’s the jailbait working out?” she asks me, waggling her eyebrows. I bark a laugh.

“First of all, he’s twenty—totally not jailbait.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carson says, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s just semantics.”

“Secondly,” I continue, leaning back in my chair, “I’ve got a date on Friday night with a teacher who is decidedly not jailbait, and who seems to like me a lot. So there.”

Rainey rubs some of the salt off the rim of her glass. “Oh, yeah? Tell us about him.”

I reach for the basket of chips. “His name’s Jeremy—he’s a science teacher.”

“And?”

I frown. “And what?”

Carson sort of squints at me, her dark eyes narrowed as though she’s attempting to solve a riddle.

“And—is he hot? Is he doable? Do you see yourself wearing panties on this date or will that just prevent the inevitable from happening sooner?”

I roll my eyes. “Right—because I do a lot of hooking up at restaurants with guys I barely know.”

Rainey shrugs.

“Apparently you do a lot of hooking up at bars with guys you barely know. Or was Smith just an exception to your rule?”

I glare at her. “I’m not discussing this again.”

“So, you’re going on a date with Jeremy,” Carson interrupts. “And that’s great. But, come on, Cyn—we have to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“About Smith.”

I crunch down on a chip. “What about him?”

Carson shrugs. “I dunno—I guess I sort of thought that there might be something there, you know?” It’s my turn to shrug.

“He’s an twenty-year-old high school student, Cars. You hold him up next to Jeremy—college educated, full-time employed, clean cut—and it isn’t really a contest.”

“Yeah, but who’s the winner,” Rainey mutters under her breath. I pretend to ignore her, then gulp down more of my margarita.

“Okay, moving on,” I say. “I want to talk about us. It’s a little over a month away from graduation and we haven’t even talked about this summer. I think we should take a trip or something to celebrate our master’s degrees.”

“Oh, a trip!” Rainey nods enthusiastically. “I will definitely need some good beach time after graduation.”

I glance at Carson, who is uncharacteristically quiet as she fiddles with a lime wedge that’s soaking the edge of her cocktail napkin.

“What do you think, Cars?” I ask her. “Cancun in June? You know how I feel about rhyming.”

She gives me a wan smile, then looks down at her lap.

“I need to tell you guys something.”

Her expression is too serious for this to be anything good. Carson licks her lips nervously and I can see her clenching her hands into fists.