Addison Blakely: Confessions of A PK Read Free Page A

Addison. I’m expecting big things from you.”
    Oh goody, no pressure. I exhaled slowly, hoping my smile seemed less contrived than it felt. No reason to be afraid of pressure, right? It’s just that this year would not be a good time to let my grade-point average, not to mention my reputation, slip. College was close—too close.
    And yet at other times, much too far away.
    “Thanks.” I hesitated, not wanting to sound rude. “Um, is that all?” Not that it wasn’t enough. My stomach cramped.
    Ms. Hawthorne nodded, shuffling some papers on her desk—probably feeling the same awkward factor that threatened to choke me around the neck. “Yes, go ahead with the assignment, and I’ll see you after class.”
    That last statement wasn’t whispered at all, and a few students smirked as I made a beeline back to my chair. Perfect. I sank into my seat, glad to be out of the line of fire, and spotted Luke from the corner of my eye. He was busy scribbling on a sheet of notebook paper, and I was reminded of the assignment I was now behind in completing.
    Then he held up the paper with a grin.
    Meet me at the water fountain on the second floor after class
.
    I gestured toward Ms. Hawthorne, implying she wanted me to stay, and he nodded. “I know. After that,” he mouthed.
    Slowly, I picked up my pen and hovered it above my notebook. Did I really want to get into this? Another chair kick from Austin relinquished my doubts and fired my nerve. I wrote my response and discreetly held it for Luke to see.
    Okay
.
    At least it would shut Claire up for a while.

    Luke was leaning against the water fountain as promised, one ankle hooked over the other. It was like a scene from a
90210
rerun, and the corny factor of this entire rendezvous hit me full force.
    I stopped in front of him, my textbook held defensively across my chest. “Hi.” I wanted to crack a hero joke about his rescue earlier but couldn’t think of one fast enough.
    “Hi there.” He grinned, slow, and it fluttered my stomach a little.
    But not as much as Wes’s smile. I tried to tamp down my disappointment. It wasn’t Luke’s fault. Speaking of Wes, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. He was eighteen, according to the folks at the church, so he obviously had graduated before moving here—or maybe dropped out. He didn’t look like the college type, and I didn’t think he had a job—not by the way he always seemed to show up at the used bookstore or coffee shop every time I did. His dad, Mr. Keegan, had been in our church congregation several years. All that time of nodding and smiling hello on Sunday mornings, and I never knew he had a son. How was that possible?
    “Need an escort to your next class?” Luke straightened, moving a step closer to me and jerking me out of my long-lashed, leather-scented daydream.
    I blinked. Did he really just say
escort?
I bit my lower lip, instincts torn between accepting his offer—which was sweet in a Disney Channel movie sort of way—and getting the heck out of Dodge before this sudden friendship took a wrong assumption. Slowly, I shook my head. “Luke, I really don’t—”
    He eased my book from my white-knuckled grip, and before I could argue, shouldered my tote bag. “Where to?” He started walking before I could answer.
    I watched helplessly as my books went without me. “Wrong way.” I pointed over my shoulder to the west bank of classrooms. “Spanish.”
    “Thanks for clarifying.” Luke smiled as he turned and passed me, now heading toward my next class. “Are you coming, or am I just taking your books for a walk?”
    I laughed, despite the knot forming in my gut. Nothing wrong with being—what had he said? escorted?—to class. Besides, if Austin was lurking somewhere, at least this would ward off another immature mating-ritual attempt on his part. I caught up to Luke in a few quick strides and led the way to Spanish.

    The look on Claire’s face as we passed the open door of her history