Troublemaker - Kayley Loring Page 0,45
write them down in their notebooks and, next to the characters, write out what their most important personality traits are. He tells them they have five minutes to do this. I’m guessing he’s about to pull out his phone to text me again.
But guess who just tiptoed into my classroom and offered her help if we need it.
Because obviously she doesn’t have to be in her own classroom right now.
Miss Paige Farrell’s pointy face has probably been peeking through the window to my door, waiting for the right moment to come in.
Well, there is no right moment to come in when Alex Vega is in my classroom, Miss Farrell.
“Hey,” she says in a stage whisper as she approaches Alex. “What’s going on in here?” She’s asking Alex, not me.
“Oh, hey,” he says, stepping away from her. “I’m helping Miss Stiles out with the holiday show.”
“Oooooh. A professional director? Fancy! What a great idea, Em.”
Em? Since when do you call me “Em?”
“Wish I’d thought of that,” she says, winking at him. Like they have an inside joke or something.
I cannot control the eye roll, but I have to work really hard to keep from wrapping my entire body around Alex and licking his face when he brings a chair over to sit next to me. He completely ignores her. It’s instantly one of the Top Ten best things he’s ever done for me.
“You take some good notes?” he asks me, leaning in to check my notepad.
“I will type them up and share them with you in a Google document later.”
“Of course you will,” he says, laughing.
Paige is still standing there, hands on her hips. “Well, let me know if you need any help, guys. I’m free most nights, if you need help with the set or want me to give notes when you get to rehearsals.”
We both smile at her politely. Awkwardly. But Alex remains blissfully silent.
“Great,” I say. “Thanks.”
“Cool. I should get back to my class.” She scratches the back of her head and sticks her boobs out just a little more before finally getting the hell out of my classroom.
I slowly turn to look at Alex, who is staring at my notes. He reaches for the pen that I’m holding and makes a note on the notepad that’s on my lap. I can’t stop staring at the back of his neck and his perfect wavy dark hair and those sexy earlobes. Just like that, even in a room with fifteen children, I am overwhelmed by the effect this man has on me. If I’m on the verge of orgasm just from experiencing him with a barrier of paper and cardboard between his hand and my thigh…what’s going to happen to me when I have no stationery to protect me from this rampant yumminess?
He punctuates a sentence with a question mark, carefully places the pen back between my fingers, and then goes over to the kids’ desks to check on their progress.
I look down at his scribbled note, and my breath hitches as if he’d surprised me with a kiss.
I only have eyes for you, Miss Stiles. The rest of me is yours for the taking. Just try to keep your hands off me when the kids are around, will you?
I circle his note, draw a star next to it, and then turn the page. Because how could I possibly keep my hands off him with those words staring up at me? I might have to ask Franklin to put that on a T-shirt.
But now it’s time for us all to move to the area rug and have a very important development meeting about our Dickens characters while sitting cross-legged on the floor. And I’m definitely not going to look at that area of Alex’s jeans that is harboring his Mr. Dickens. I lower myself to the rug, sitting off to the side of him, and I can’t help it if he gets a glimpse of cleavage and bra. It’s not my fault that the fabric of this jumpsuit isn’t glued to my skin. I’m not the boss of gravity.
He pauses his little speech about how we’re going to workshop this play, blinks, and then looks at me like he’s kind of mad at me. And I blink back at him, innocently starting a voice memo on my phone. He shakes his head and looks back at the kids.
“So let’s hear what you guys wrote about the characters. Cheyenne?”
Cheyenne, who is sitting next to Ryder, flips her long curly hair