Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Which obviously led to now.
I was in the break room laminating some work pages that I wanted to do next week, and definitely not watching the band like I probably should’ve been.
“Hey Coach!” I chirped. “Come in here. I forgot my phone in my classroom, so you’ll have to share yours.”
“What are we watching?” Coach Shepherd asked.
Coach Shepherd was the newest football coach for West Dallas High School. He was cute, perpetually smiling, and way too young to be the head football coach. But he knew the right people, and since our old head football coach had been caught in a scandal with a student, they’d needed a replacement fast.
In came Coach Shepherd with the ink barely dry on his college degree and his history of being a star quarterback for A&M University.
I had a feeling that he was scared, but I knew he’d make it. He had the drive.
He wanted to be there.
He also knew his stuff.
“Senior prank,” I said. “The marching band is going to follow the principal around today.”
“Oh, nice,” Shepherd said. “Our school prank was putting the principal’s car onto the roof of the gym.”
“How’d you get it up there?” Casey’s eyes widened.
“One of the seniors had a dad that owned a crane company,” he said. “Where are you live from?”
“The band’s social media page,” Casey answered, moving in closer to me to show me his phone.
Shepherd pulled his up, too, and he grinned when he saw all the comments start rolling through.
“This page is popular,” he mused.
“West Dallas won the Marching Band Invitational last year,” Casey explained. “Bands are pretty big down here. Not as big as football, of course, but big enough that…”
He kept talking, but I focused on the screen.
I watched the band stomp toward the building that housed the principals and secretaries.
Though, likely the secretaries were out to lunch.
The vice principal usually lunched off campus with her husband who worked in construction down the road, meaning no one but my fiancé would be inside.
Which was exactly how I wanted it.
I couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
He loved senior pranks.
They were some of his favorite things.
Rupert loved his seniors.
He loved even more that they were going out and doing something with themselves.
That was why I’d first fallen in love with him—his love for his students.
When I’d first met Rupert, he was the lead history teacher—now I was since he’d taken the principal position. When the position of principal had come available, I’d encouraged him to take the job. And he’d thrived.
It’d been three years since he’d done it, and each year I loved watching him build a rapport with his students.
“Ohh.” Casey all but jumped. “Cal’s got the door.”
“It’s locked,” Cal whispered.
Someone passed up the key I’d given them this morning and Cal quietly unlocked the door.
Rupert always did lunch in his office while he went over the upcoming week’s events.
I’d tried to join him a few times, but he’d said that he needed that time to himself to figure out his next steps.
I’d given it to him, and respected his time, and usually caught lunch in the teacher’s lounge and watched an episode of a crime documentary.
The doorknob turned, and Cal shoved the key into his pocket.
Seconds later, he held up his hands and counted down.
Three.
Two.
One.
The door opened.
The band started playing “We Will Rock You.”
Rupert startled from his standing position in front of his desk and turned.
The first thing I saw was a pair of spread legs on the desk in front of him, with a very up close and personal view of a vagina.
The next I saw was Rupert’s cock.
The band’s notes died.
The woman on the desk sat forward.
And my heart sank.
Jolessa, my best friend, squeaked and covered herself with the only thing she could find—a photo of me and Rupert that we’d taken at the beach this summer.
The trumpet made a comical downward musical note, and then everyone stared in stunned silence, unsure what to do.
My stomach sank to the floor, and the diamond engagement ring on my finger felt like it was made of lead as it pulled my hand down to rest against my thigh.
“Holy shit,” Coach Shepherd said. “You should probably cut the feed.”
“Oh, sure…” Casey said. “But I don’t have the ability to access the page. Only Ms. Goodman has control over it besides Cal. And Cal’s lookin’ kind of horrified. I doubt he even remembers he’s recording.”
“Holy fuck,” Coach Shepherd groaned. “Look at the number of watchers right now.”
I did, seeing that there were forty-eight thousand watchers.
It was understandable, really, because West Dallas had done so well at that tournament that they’d then gone on to Good Morning America, and several other daytime television news programs. They’d garnered quite the following.
“Oh, my god,” Casey breathed. “Look, it just keeps going up!”
I swallowed hard as I watched it reach eighty thousand viewers.