A chorus of groans livened up the room. Mr. Matthews clapped his hands and looked at us expectantly, though it wasn't nearly enough to wake up half the class. Surprisingly, today was one of those days when I was wide awake, one of those robotic, eyes-forced-open days.

"Up! Up! Up! We're doing jumping jacks. Twenty of 'em. I know you losers only have two weeks before graduation, but I will fail you if you can't manage to stay awake for eight more hours of this class."

There was a snort from the front of the room, "You've got to be killing me."

With the looming blank of summer's close proximity and the end of high school, not a single senior was in the mindset to get up and do jumping jacks. I was too tired to even really think about it.

"You too, Keller. Get your asses out of your seats."

After the first few chickens actually got up and began jumping up and down, flailing their arms around, I figured that maybe I should try to appear as if I hadn't been disregarding everything that came out of Mr. Matthew's mouth.

But I couldn't help it. Recently, everything that had come out of my teacher's mouths within the past month sounded like blah blah blah blah blah bla….

Somehow, my brain and body separated and I was able to do twenty measly jumping jacks, but I wasn't any more awake when I sat back down. Sleep. That was what I wanted.

But not what Mr. Mathews wanted. He actually wanted to teach us. At this late date of the year. Really.

After the forced physical exertion, Mr. Matthews tried his best to salvage what last minutes we had in class with his book talk, but there wasn't nearly enough energy for anyone to even grunt in response.

Blah. Blah. Blah. Graduation was so close. So close. Like four weeks. Flynn was coming to graduation. I knew that much. But he hadn't visited for a good two months, so keen on waiting till I was out of high school before he showed up again. His motives were unknown to me, but I had a feeling that it either had something to do with guilt or his unspoken fear of my father.

And I couldn't blame him.

I'd stay away from this place too. Of course I couldn't. Because I was stuck listening to Mr. Matthews talk on as if we'd remember this a week later. The class only had seconds until it would end. Just seconds. But he was still talking. Talk and talk and talk. I felt my eyes closing, my brain shutting off. Blah blah bla…

"Mr. Jameson?" A voice next to me whispered.

Someone in the front of the room laughed for a second time. "Mr. Jameson! Dude, you're here."

My eyes shot open, and almost immediately they met with a pair of the most familiar, most attractive grey eyes. Piercing, really. And it had been so long since I'd seen them. He saw me too, in fact his eyes didn't once wander from mine.

Flynn Jameson stood at the door of the room, his left hand gripping the doorknob. He was wearing these black skinny jeans, far too warm for the Texas weather and far too stylish for his checkered vest. Good god, I needed to convince him to throw his vests away. But gee whiz nitz the temperature of this room skyrocketed with his arrival. His trademark curly hair had grown back to its normal, floppy length. Little spirals of hair wound around his ears and flopped over his nose. Like a Greek god. I really missed him.

Mr. Matthews didn't have the same sentiment.

He sighed rather audibly and dropped his active arms to his sides. "Who are you, and why are you interrupting my class?"

"Flynn Jameson," those grey eyes panned away from me. "And-"

"You're interrupting my class. Just because it's the end of the year doesn't mean that I won't give you a detention."

There was this uncomfortable silence in the room as everyone weighed whether it was a good idea to tell Mr. Matthews that this was our old teacher. Mr. Matthews was on a short fuse today, his own form of PMS.

Flynn caught on, clearing his throat and smiling briefly at the floor. "This class ended fifteen minutes ago."

"No it's—" Mr. Matthews snatched his wrist up and stared. "3:44."

The school bells were off today, and Mr. Matthews made a point to collect all of our phones and ban the use of computers. He also took the clock down. As I said, PMS.

With the mention of the time, my once-dead class members shot up from their seats and filed to the front, eager to collect their phones . . . and then give Flynn a fist bump.

I was the last to the front of the room, feeling a bit coy as I ignored Mr. Matthews and walked straight to my very long lost boyfriend, hands buried in my jean pockets.

Flynn looked down on me, his lips turning up into a smile, that smile growing until I could see his teeth. "Keller."

"Flynn." It was all could say before he stepped forward, snaked his arm around me, pulled me to him, and kissed me like he hadn't seen me for two months. Because he hadn't. And I'm talking about a good kiss. He really wasn't holding back on the tongue, and good god, I felt it all over.

Which was weird when I remembered that Mr. Matthews was still standing right there watching.

I tried to pull back but Flynn kept me close, ending the kiss, but pressing his forehead to mine.

"Hey, I missed you." He murmured.

"I can tell."

"I was going to visit, but I still had stuff to finish up, and I didn't want to face your dad until I knew I'd be staying."

His grey eyes penetrated mine as if he was trying to send me a telepathic message, but my brain was a bit foggy from that kiss and the fact that his face was still so close.


"Keller?" Mr. Matthews rudely interrupted.

Flynn moved his head back from mine looking at the guy standing next to us; and he held up a finger, "Hold up," He turned back to me. "I'm staying here. I figured I'd meet you when this class was over before I took the U-haul to my new condo."


"Yep. And I have your dog."

"My dog?"

"Your dog and some paperwork. Designs that my dad drew out a few years ago." He added offhandedly.

I wasn't ready to change the subject. "Flynn. My dog?"

"Stop repeating me."

"Well, I don't know what dog you're talking about, so you'll have to specify." I rolled my eyes; I forgot how moody he could be. "I'll stop repeating you when you say something that makes sense."

He bounced up and down with impatience "My dad's will? I guess he had this clause about Colton's dad moving out of Iowa. Apparently he got arrested, convicted, and moved back down to Texas, so all the things that were listed for him in the will are now yours." He clicked his tongue and changed the subject. "I just realized that this guy is still standing here and watching us."

I breathed in and out, I'd figure out the details about the will later, though it was nice to hear that Colton's dad was arrested.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Matthews, just waiting. "I figured if we just stayed like this, he'd get bored and walk out. I bet he still thinks you're a student; we should probably leave before he tries to give you a detention."

"Maybe I shouldn't have shaved. Do I look like a kid?"

I snorted, "No. You don't really have a baby face."

"I always thought I looked young. When I don't want to impress anyone, I don't shave." He touched his face.

"Do you want to impress me?" I pressed.

He snaked his arm around me again before bending over and quickly pecking my lips. "You know I do." His lips caught mine for the third time. This time he pulled back and looked me in the eyes. Grey eyes penetrating mine, "I love you. I really do."

Melted. Again. He always had this effect on me. And for a second I felt like crying because I loved him too. Happy crying. And I hated crying. What was this?

Blinking that strange urge away, I couldn't fight the smile that curled up on my lips, and I couldn't fight my response.

"I love you too, and I love your scruff when you don't shave."

Fluffy moment successfully ruined. He pulled back. "I never look scruffy."

"Lies. But don't worry. Your version of scruffy is pretty sexy." I looked at his shirt, dropping my hands to his waist, "Speaking of sexy, that vest is not."

He backed up a little and looked down at himself, "What's wrong with my vest?"

"What's not wrong with your vest?"

"I like my vest."

"Flynn, it's a patterned vest. How much dorkier can you get? You can't. You're borderline Urkel right now."

"Flora told me it looked good; she—"

"—lied. Babe, she lied."

"She didn't—"

The sound of a marker dropping onto a wooden desk reminded Flynn and me that we weren't alone. We actually managed to forget. Mr. Matthews, glad to see that he finally got our attention, crossed his arms across his chest, over his fitted dress shirt.

Slowly he unfolded his arms and held out a hand to Flynn, "Hi. I'm Matteo Matthews. I'm your replacement." He seemed to be holding back a smile that barely showed at the corner of his mouth, "You're the old teacher."

"Yeah." Flynn shook his hand.

Mr. Matthews' black eyes slid to mine. "How interesting." Accusing.

I took Flynn's arm; it was time for us to go. "Yeah, well, this was a nice get-together. I think Flynn and I will just go now."

I began pulling him back to the door so we could just get out of here. Matteo Matthews wasn't going to judge me. Not today.

"Don't forget to do your homework!" Mr. Matthews called at the closing door.

I was safely out of the English room when I flipped him off, and my hand with that offensive middle finger was safely engulfed in a much larger, warmer hand. Flynn shot me a look from behind a curtain of his curly hair.

Our first stop (and last stop, depending on the outcome) would be home to face my dad. Flynn was home, he was staying, and he might've been my old English teacher. So what? That was last year's news.

What really mattered was here and now. Flynn held my hand as we talked on our way to my car, and he kissed me before he climbed into the U-haul parked right next to me.

Who cared what my dad thought? Who cared what Matteo Matthews thought? Who cared about Colton and his dad—I didn't even care enough to find out what happened to them and the case. Right here and right now I knew that Flynn Jameson was my man, and he was here to stay. Home. With me.

I also knew that with all my heart, I still hated every single letter in English. But gee whiz, I loved Flynn Jameson.