Several teachers turn around to survey me. I sit up a little straighter in my chair. Between meal prepping, running, and kickboxing, I’d worked my ass off this summer. Lost fifteen pounds.

Take that, Andrew.

Not that I did it for him. I did it for me. I don’t want to die early from unhealthy eating.

Take that, diabetes.

Susan Faye, one of the veteran teachers at our school, offers me a sad smile. “I heard about your divorce. Welcome to the club.”

I cringe inwardly. “Thanks, Sue.”

“You gonna ditch us for the divorcee’s club?” Kerry whispers.

I roll my eyes. Before I can answer, the door swings open and our new principal strides into the room.

Mary and Andrea fist-bump under the table. “Finally, a male principal,” Andrea whispers.

Tall, lean frame. Perfectly-fitting dark grey suit with a pastel pink shirt underneath. I love when men wear pink. My eyes drag up his body until they reach his flawless, tan—wait, I recognize that face.

And all the air leaves my lungs.

Holyshitmotherfuckingcocksuckerasscrack.

I must be dreaming.

This has to be a dream.

There is no way my one-and-only-one-in-my-whole-life-night stand is my new boss.

They say to pinch yourself if you’re dreaming, right?

Ouch. Nope. Jaxon is still standing at that podium.

“Is she breathing?” Kerry whispers.

“I don’t know,” Andrea says. “Beck, hold a mirror under her nose.”

Becca leans in. “You okay, Rae?”

My eyes remain locked on him. “What is he doing here?”

“Looks like he’s our new principal.”

I tear my eyes away and cover my face with my hands. This cannot be happening. “I’ll have to dye my hair. Maybe just shave it all off. I can wear a disguise all year, right?”

“My cousin can make you a sick hunchback.” Kerry nods, completely serious. “It’ll look real, I swear.”

“You’d look hot as a redhead,” Mary chimes in.

I use the back of my pen to scratch my thigh. I always break out in hives whenever I get anxious. Maybe I won’t need the disguise after all. I’ll be so red and blotchy, Jaxon won’t be able to recognize me.

I steal another glance in his direction. He’s spotted me, and the way he’s staring at me confirms that he does recognize me.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“Maybe he won’t remember you,” Kerry whispers.

Mary shakes her head. “He definitely remembers her. Look at that smirk.”

Becca points to my lap. “Rae, your leg!”

The pen I was scratching myself with—the one I thought I’d clicked closed—was open. As if this moment couldn’t get any more humiliating for me, there are now black zigzags drawn all over my knee.

Mary snatches the pen from my grip while Sammi digs a tissue out of her purse and dips it into her water bottle.