“Sit. Now.” My lips form a tight line as I stare at him. He’s right on par with being first period’s most entertaining student, but this isn’t something I want to entertain.
“Yes, ma’am. But can you at least get his autograph or something for me?”
“No, I can’t. I don’t know him, despite what that looks like.” I point to the device in his hand. “Put the phone away before it stays with me for the day.”
“Do you have his phone number?”
When I give him my that’s-enough-E.J. look, he holds his hands up and laughs, heading to his seat. “Just thought I’d try. Anyone else would’ve taken advantage of meeting Carter Barlowe.”
Yes. I’m sure they would’ve, and I’ve heard the same sentiment ad nauseam—especially from Rhett. He’d kept questioning me and Bodie throughout lunch yesterday even though I kept insisting there was nothing to tell. Grabbing my cell, I quickly type a message.
Me: My student wants an autograph and Carter’s phone number.
Bodie: You should’ve asked for them.
Me: Shut up. And on second thought, you’d better bring a big-ass bottle of wine and an extravagant meal tonight.
Tucking my cell away, I focus on starting the day’s lesson. It might all be in my mind, but the longer class goes on, the more everyone in it seems distracted. Or maybe it’s just me. Attempting to get back on track is pointless, especially when there’s a knock on the door.
I’m utterly dumbstruck when Principal Newman walks in with none other than Carter Barlowe. What in the actual hell is going on?
“Good morning, Ms. Whitlock,” Principal Newman beams.
Why is Carter here? Is he mad about being a laughingstock? Is he here to get me fired? How did he even find me? I’m physically unable to respond. Like a complete halfwit.
There’re several gasps and whispers around the classroom before I hear E.J.’s way too loud, “Yo, I thought you didn’t know him, Ms. W?”
“I don’t,” I finally say as steadily as possible. Managing the world’s fakest smile, I focus on my boss and ignore Mr. Bruised Ego beside him. “Good morning, sir. Is everything all right?” I make the mistake of looking directly into the sun. The smile Carter Barlowe flashes me is so bright it’s nearly blinding. He’s got to be here for a reason—whether that reason is me or this is purely coincidental, I’ve not a clue—but he’s incontrovertibly delighted with my obvious alarm at his surprise visit.
“Oh, yes. Everything is fantastic. Mr. Barlowe wanted a tour of the school and asked specifically for a visit to your classroom.”
“How nice of him.” I literally clench my teeth, pressing my tongue up against the backs of them to keep from adding a few extra words. The sarcastic comment hidden within my polite response isn’t lost on Carter as his smile grows. And even if it’s attached to his gorgeously symmetrical face, I still want to deck him in his perfect nose. He doesn’t need his face intact in order to work, he only throws a damn baseball around for a living.
“Can I get an autograph now?” E.J. asks, beginning to stand up of his desk.
“Stay in your seat, Ernest.”
All I need is to lose control of the class and have them swarm Principal Newman in an effort to get to Carter. Although, that might be a good plan to get him out of my classroom.
“How you gonna do me like that in front of my boy?” E.J. asks, shaking his head as he plops back on to his seat. Our agreement is I call him by his preferred nickname if he behaves in my class. And since he’s the ringleader, I really need him to listen.
Carter, on the other hand, looks like he’s not bothered by the disruption one bit. “I don’t mind signing some autographs while I’m here.”
“Can I get your phone number?” E.J. asks. I close my eyes, my fingers pressing against my temple momentarily before I look at my student. “What? I figured I’d shoot my shot. It’s Carter freakin’ Barlowe.”
Yes. I don’t need to be reminded. Again.
Carter walks over to E.J., cool and casual, as all eyes watch him. E.J. pulls out a Coyotes jersey that has Barlowe stamped on the back of it. He’d really been prepared.
“I’m E.J., not Ernest,” E.J. gives me an annoyed look before focusing back to Carter. “Man, you’re my favorite player ever. You’re the best the Coyotes—the league!—has ever had.” E.J. continues his starstruck rambling while Carter signs the jersey then leans in to pose for a selfie with E.J. before giving him a pat on the shoulder.