Page 26 of White Hot Kiss
His eyes met mine. “I will when you tell me what you were staring at.”
“Not at you.” I glanced at the front of the room. Mrs. Cleo flipped over her notes. “Turn around before you get us in trouble.”
Roth dipped his head. “Oh, you’d love the kind of trouble I’d get you in.”
Stacey sighed—or moaned. “I bet we would.”
I clenched the pen. “No. We. Would. Not.”
“Speak for yourself, sister.” Stacey popped the edge of her pen in her mouth.
He smirked at Stacey. “I like your friend.”
The pen cracked in my hand. “Well, I don’t like you.”
Roth chuckled as he finally turned back around. The rest of the class went like that. Every so often he’d look back at us and grin or whisper something entirely infuriating. When Mrs. Cleo finally turned the overhead lights on, I was ready to scream.
Stacey only blinked, looking like she was coming out of some kind of bizarre trance. I scribbled hobag across her notes. She laughed and wrote virgin ice princess across mine.
When the bell rang, I already had my stuff packed, ready to make a clean exit. I needed air—preferably air that Roth wasn’t sharing. Surprisingly enough, he was already out the door by the time I stood, walking so fast he appeared to be on some sort of mission. Maybe Hell had called him back home? I could only hope.
“What is your problem?” asked Stacey.
I brushed past her, scooping long strands of hair out from underneath my bag’s strap. “What? I have a problem because I’m not in heat?”
She made a face. “Well, that just sounds gross.”
“You’re gross,” I threw over my shoulder.
Stacey caught up with me. “Honestly, you have to explain to me what your problem is with him. I don’t get it. Did he ask you to be his baby mama?”
“What?” I made a face. “I already told you. He’s just bad news.”
“My favorite kind of news,” she said as we filed out of the door, “is bad-news boys.”
I gripped my bag tighter as a sea of pink and blue souls filled the hallway. A banner hung down, interrupting the flow of the pastel rainbow. “Since when did you start liking bad boys? All your past boyfriends qualified for sainthood.”
“Since yesterday,” she quipped.
“Well, that’s really...” I stopped by the row of lockers, wrinkling my nose. “Do you smell that?”
Stacey sniffed the air, then immediately groaned. “God, it smells like raw sewage. Probably the damn bathroom’s backed up.”
Other students were starting to pick up on the scent of rotten eggs and soured meat. There were giggles, a few gags. Apprehension stirred in my chest. The smell was foul—too foul—and I couldn’t believe it was only now that I was smelling it.
I was going to blame Roth for that, too.
“You’d think they’d cancel classes with a smell like that.” Stacey started to tug her shirt up as a shield, but must’ve realized there wasn’t enough material there. She clamped her hand over her mouth, muffling her voice. “This cannot be safe.”
A teacher stood outside his class, waving his hand in front of his face. My eyes burned as I turned away from him, trailing behind Stacey. In the stairwell, the smell was stronger.
Stacey glanced at me on the landing. “See you at lunch?”
“Yeah,” I replied, stepping out of the way of several taller and bigger seniors. I looked like a freshman standing in their way.
She tugged on the hem of her skirt again with her free hand. “Hopefully the smell is gone by then. If not, I’m starting a protest.”
Before I could respond, she was bounding up the stairs. I headed down the steps to the first floor, trying not to gag.