Page 36 of Tempt Me

I covered my mouth, trying to prevent myself from laughing.

“Oh my god! What the fuck is my sister trying to kill me? This is disgusting! Last time I let her pack my meal. Holy fuck that’s nasty.”

Her friend eyed the sandwich on the table, completely dropped and disassembled now while Fallon scraped her tongue, letting the prior contents fall out onto the used plastic wrapper.

“What’s wrong Faye? You look like your about to puke.” Her little friend had no idea.

I was laughing at my internal thoughts and missed the fact that she stood up from the table and snatched her friend up beside her.

“You aren’t in the same shirt I saw you wearing in class,” she said, holding her lunch bag in one hand and her friend’s arm in the other.

“Yes, well, you see…” I looked down at my button-down, smiling wide. “I made a mess on it sadly.”

She stiffened at the sound of my voice, and her multicolored-haired friend was looking at her, trying to assess what was happening. The secret message she was clearly missing. Good for her, for not being one of the stupid mules of this place.

“Well then.” Fallon huffed, falling into the seat across from me and yanking her classmate down with her.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so careless, huh, professor.”

Her friend gaped at her, staring at us back and forth.

I raised my hands in surrender.

“Perhaps not.” I smirked. “But sometimes you get too caught up in distractions to pay attention to possible…messes.”

She glared at me, her deadly stare so fucking edible I wanted to pin her down to the damn table and take her right here.

“And besides…” I teased, getting up from my place. I leaned over the table, getting close to her glaring, beautiful face. “A mess can be quite tasty to clean up, can’t it, Little Voyeur?”

Fourteen

Condemnation: Declaration of someone’s guilt.

Is anyone truly innocent?

“Girl…” Sasha said for the fiftieth time tonight, adjusting her boobs in the mirror underneath my bathroom vanity. She hadn’t let up on me since leaving the café at school. “I know for damn sure that…discussion with Mister Professor Hottie wasn’t about a silly ketchup stain!”

She quickly glanced at my reflection, her eyes carrying enough condemnation for an entire army, and returned to layering on dark mascara.

Scoffing, I ignored her, adjusting my boobs. This outfit was squishing them to holy hell.

God, I looked like a corpse.

White made me look like a shrunken ghost as it was, and this horrible rock-textured vintage dress had me blending into my fucking wall.

“Fallon Jane Summers,” Sasha yelled, poking me in my side boob. “I demand to know what the fuck that showdown was about!”

I sighed, rubbing the sore spot.

“And why the fuck was Professor Hotness’s shirt in your locker? I need answers, woman!”

I grimaced, my nose wrinkling at the crusty black shirt I knew was sitting on top of my books inside my backpack.

“How did that fucking dick bag even get my locker combo?” I mumbled.

She facepalmed her head and angrily sighed. “Screwed the lunch lady? I don’t know! But that isn’t the important part here, Fallon.”

“I don’t know, Sasha,” I said, honesty pouring out of me at this point. I was exhausted and hadn’t even left the house yet. “I don’t know how his shirt got in my locker, okay? I don’t know.”