“Gee, thanks for that,” I choke out as he pushes his banana my way.
“You can have mine,” he offers, smiling brightly. I glare at him like I'd enjoy stabbing him in the neck with the pair of scissors on Mr. Cruschek's desk. “What's with the look?”
“Maybe sh—” Ranger starts and then pauses, face paling considerably. His nostrils flare and he narrows his sapphire eyes on Spencer. “Maybe he doesn't feel comfortable performing sexual acts with the three of you drooling on the opposite side of the table. Is it any wonder Chuck didn't mention … his idiosyncrasies sooner?” Ranger takes my banana, unrolls the condom along its yellow length, and then hands it back to me. He raises his hand. “Mr. Cruschek, we're all done here.”
Our ancient, shambling sex-ed teacher comes our way as Spencer takes a new condom and somehow manages to fit it over the lumpy lemon cucumber shape.
“Excellent, excellent,” Mr. Cruschek says, squinting at us. I'm not sure if he could see a condom-wrapped skyscraper if it were two feet in front of his face. “All perfect scores.” He scribbles something down on his iPad, and then looks up sharply when Ross' phone bings from under the table. “Mr. James, are you posting Insta-Chat photos of this online? Sex education is not just a game for social media.”
“Huh?” Ross asks, as I swallow down a snort of laughter, folding my hands nicely on the tabletop and then finding my eyes drawn to the side. Church looks bored as hell, one elbow on the table, the fingers of his other hand tracing delicately down the length of his condom-wrapped fruit.
He smiles and winks when he sees me looking, and I flick my eyes ahead of me to where Micah is eating the damn thing.
“You mean Instagram and Snapchat, right?” Ross asks, and Mr. Cruschek snorts, dropping a stack of papers on the table in front of us.
“I’m writing you up for insubordination,” he grumbles, shuffling off as Ross gapes and flips him off behind his back.
“That old fart probably hasn't been laid in years,” he grumbles, sliding his condom on expertly, and then wrinkling his nose as he wipes his fingers off on a paper towel. “I bet his dick looks less like that lemon cucumber and more like a shriveled pickle.”
“Goddamn, Ross, the imagery,” Spencer groans, putting his hands over his ears. “Keep that shit to yourself.”
“Sad, but true,” Ross quips, shimmying his shoulders and then standing up and tossing his shiny blond hair. “I'm off to the little gay boy's room to ‘shit rainbows’.” He sneers this last part at Spencer who returns the gesture by flipping him off. “If you'll excuse me a moment.”
Ross takes off, sashaying down the aisle. Mark Grandam scowls as he passes and Ross blows him a kiss.
“I'm sensing serious homophobia vibes from that guy,” I grumble, and Tobias snorts, ruffling up his red-orange hair with his fingers. The way it falls across his forehead makes me feels sort of … melt-y inside. Yeah, melt-y, sorry I'm not more poetic, okay? You’re not seriously doing this are you, crushing on the twins when you’ve got a thing with Spencer?
But yeah, I am. I’m doing it. Ugh.
“I'm sensing serious murder vibes,” Micah grumbles around his banana, turning around to look at Mark. He raises a hand in greeting and then lifts his eyebrows when Mark sneers and turns away. “Huh. He's certainly copping a much bigger attitude than he used to.” Micah turns back to the group. “Let's kick the shit out of him.”
“No, no more bullying,” I mumble as I push the lubed up banana way from me. “Subtlety is the name of our game.”
We all pause as the door opens and Mr. Murphy walks in, his usual smile in place. I swear to god his eyes flick over to mine before he turns away. I expected some weirdness between us after the Jenica thing, but he's been his usual chipper self.
It's suspicious as hell.
“Let's stalk him after class,” I murmur, and Church makes a tsk-tsk sound under his breath.
“After Culinary Club,” he corrects, and I roll my eyes.
“How could I possibly forget. What are we making today: funeral brownies? Murder cookies? Noose pretzels with mustard dipping sauce?”
“That's not a terrible idea,” Church agrees, still smiling, and then he reaches out to grab one of the papers. “Now, what should we make our board game about: herpes or chlamydia?”
“Spencer has both: ask him,” the twins point at their friend, and my eyes widen.
“I do not,” he snaps, slapping their hands away. I notice Mr. Murphy watching us. As soon as he sees me looking his way, he turns back to Mr. Cruschek, but there it was, a glint of fear in his eyes.
Maybe he knows we're onto him?
“If you do, I'll cut your balls off,” I murmur, licking my lower lip and watching as Mr. Murphy exits the classroom. Oh yeah, that guy is suspicious as fuck. Nobody's that nice in real life. No fucking way.
