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“Okay, Marie Claire,” I joked.

“Who’s she?”

“You’re such a guy,” I said, giggling. “It’s a girl’s magazine. About fashion and relationships and skincare and stuff.”

He nodded and opened the cabinet above me. He pulled out a bowl and handed it to me, then walked to the pantry for the box of Trix.

“For kids, right?” I asked playfully, taking the box.

“Not funny,” Mark said. “Nothing about you is childish.”

I squirmed, feeling a rush of something very
not
childlike between my legs.

Mark watched me fill my bowl to the brim with cereal, and when I poured in the milk, some Trix spilled over the sides, scattering on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and reached for them.

“It’s okay,” he said, and picked them up, popping them one by one into his mouth. “I plan on sharing a lot of cereal with you. This is a good start.”

I ate the entire bowl of Trix without talking. Mark watched me, and I should have been self-conscious, but I wasn’t. I didn’t care. It felt so good to eat and fill my belly. I’d been hungry for too long, I just didn’t know it until now.

“Another?” he asked when I drained the last of the colored milk from my bowl.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I nodded.

“Note to self: Stock the pantry and fridge when Cadence comes over,” Mark said lightly.

I smiled. “Why am I so hungry?”

He poured another generous amount of cereal into my bowl.

“I think it’s because you’re happy,” he replied.

Was he giving himself props?

“And I suppose you think it’s because of you?” I asked, trying for a playful tone.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I think it’s because you got a taste of something you like.” His lips brushed my earlobe. “That’s why you’re happy.”

I won’t lie. I was a shaky, sweaty mess walking into class Friday morning. The euphoria I experienced while I was with Mr. Connelly yesterday quickly evaporated the minute I got in my car and headed home.

What the
hell
was I doing?

The more I mulled over the situation, the more intense my anxiety became—growing at an unnaturally fast rate until my heart was ready to burst. And not the good kind of bursting. The I’m-going-to-completely-ruin-my-life kind of bursting.

I practically ran to my seat, tore my math book open, then sat perfectly still. That’s what animals do, right? They freeze to evade being seen. To avoid being attacked. I thought I’d try it. See if it’d work.

Mr. Connelly walked by my desk on his way to the back of the room.

“Good morning, Cadence,” he said softly.

“Good morning, Mr. Connelly,” I whispered back.

Okay. It didn’t work.

I can’t do this! I can’t do this!
I felt my heart aching to let go of the secret. I’m not joking. I had the hideous urge to scream my confession at the top of my lungs: “I visited Mr. Connelly at his apartment yesterday!! I sat on his lap!” Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. I think I could only blame it on this weird urge to tell the truth, something drilled into me since I was little. “Always tell the truth, Cadence,” I could hear my mother say. “The truth will set you free.”

The truth will set me free. Hmm. I didn’t think it would alleviate the burden pressed on my heart. Telling the truth would only replace one excruciating feeling with another. So I sat in my seat fighting to bury the secret deep within my heart, telling myself over and over in a harsh, unforgiving way, “Don’t you dare open your fucking mouth, Cadence!” And that seemed to help.

It also helped that I sat with my eyes glued to my math book all period. I have no idea what Mr. Connelly said during class. I focused on reading the same sentence over and over for forty-five minutes until my eyes blurred. And when the bell rang, I jumped up and rushed out the door. I knew if I didn’t, he’d stop me, and I didn’t want him keeping me behind, asking me intimate questions, writing me yet another late pass for English. No, I wanted to get my ass to English as fast as I could. I’d never been so eager for a Chaucer lecture.

“Cadence,” I heard softly from behind. But I kept moving. I had to keep moving.

***

“What the hell is up with you today?” Avery asked, eyeing me curiously.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s up with me.”

“Then why are you acting all shifty?”

“Shifty? I’m acting shifty?” I asked, eyes darting to and fro. I kept turning around to see if Mr. Connelly would walk into the cafeteria.

“Yeah, shifty. And it’s really freaking me out,” Avery replied. “Are you in trouble?”

Ha! Was I in trouble . . .

“No. No trouble at all. Why would you think that?”

“Oh my God. Never mind.” Avery went back to eating her sandwich. I continued to scan the cafeteria until I heard a loud
slap
! I jumped in my seat and turned to Avery. She grinned wickedly, her hand splayed out on the table centimeters from my lunch tray. “You little sneaky slut.”

“What?!”

“You’re sneaking around. You’ve got yourself a man, and you’re terrified of getting caught,” Avery continued.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. My breathing came faster.

“God, Cadence. You’re the worst liar,” Avery said. “You better work on that if you expect to continue seeing Mystery Man.”

“There’s no mystery man!”

Avery laughed, and then in the next breath, she turned deadly serious. “Cadence, I mean it. You’ve gotta lie better. I mean, I picked you out for a reason. I thought you were good at being deceitful.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why did you ever think I was good at that?”

“‘Cause you got high and robbed a store.”

“And got caught!”

Avery dismissed my statement with a grunt. “If you ruin this awesome thing I’ve got going on with Gavin, I
will
slice your throat.”

“Oh my God. You’re a lunatic.”

“Yes. I am. So stop acting like you’re guilty, and relax. You’ve got a man. There’s nothing wrong with that. And now you’ll be able to see him, too. Nothing wrong with that either, unless you screw the whole thing up. Stop. Freaking. Out!”

“I’m not freaking out. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I snapped.

“Whatever.”

Okay. Yes, I was acting really immature. I recognized my immaturity all the while I sat at the table watching for Mr. Connelly to walk through the cafeteria doors. But I couldn’t help it, and anyway, I’m SEVENTEEN! I didn’t know how I was supposed to act. Before Mr. Connelly, there were a few boyfriends. Stupid, silly relationships filled mostly with arguments because I guess teenagers are gluttons for drama. But now I was being invited into a different kind of relationship—an adult relationship—and I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything about him made me tingle and burn, trip over my feet, want to run away. And I had no choice but to react the way any normal teenage girl would.

“Cadence, may I see you for a moment before you leave?” Mr. Connelly asked at the end of the day. I was at my locker, packing my bag as quickly as I could. He approached me in a sea of students. Why? Why would he do that?

“I’ll miss the bus,” I mumbled, not looking at him.

“It’ll be really fast,” he said. “I just have a letter that needs to get to your parents.”

“Letter”? My ass.

I nodded because I had no choice, and followed him to his room. He closed the door.

“Look at me, Cadence.”

I shook my head.

“Cadence!”

My head snapped up on instinct, and I stared him in the face.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want. I told you that yesterday.”

“I . . . I want to,” I said. “But I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

I shook my head. “Of getting caught.”

“I’m a careful person, Cadence,” Mr. Connelly said.

“It’s me,” I confessed. “I’m not good at lying. And I had this really weird impulse today in calculus.”

“What impulse?”

I was embarrassed to say it, but I did anyway. “I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs that I’m seeing you in secret.”

Mr. Connelly froze. “Um, okay. Well, I’m really glad you didn’t act on that impulse, Cadence.”

I shook my head. “It’s not normal. It’s freaking weird. I don’t know why I wanted to do it. Maybe because I was taught to always tell the truth.”

“Life isn’t so black and white like that,” Mr. Connelly replied.

“I know that,” I snapped.

We were silent for a moment. I realized I’d already missed the bus and would have to walk home.

“If this situation is too hard for you, I understand. I guess I shouldn’t have put you in it to begin with,” he said. “But I couldn’t help it, Cadence. I just want to be with you.”

I relaxed at those words and felt a warmth creep through my limbs.

“I want to be with you, too,” I said.

Mark smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. But Cadence?”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t act on impulses to scream at the top of your lungs that we’re seeing each other.”

I giggled. “I won’t.”

“I’m not ashamed to be with you, but I’m not stupid either. I know how the world would react. I would lose my job. I would make life even harder for you. Those students. They would be relentless.”

“I know, Mr. Connelly.”

“Mark.”

“No. At school you’re Mr. Connelly.”

Mr. Connelly scowled. And then he looked at his watch. “Shit, I made you miss the bus.”

“No big deal.”

“Let me drive you.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Not all the way to your house. Just close enough.”

“No, Mr. Connelly. Someone might see me getting in or out of your car.”

“I feel awful.”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I could use the exercise.”

Mr. Connelly looked me over and rolled his eyes. He went to his desk and grabbed a granola bar and an unopened bottle of water.

“Here,” he said, handing them to me. “I don’t want you passing out on the way home. I know you didn’t eat lunch today.”

“What? Are you checking up on me?”

“And just so you know,” Mr. Connelly said, ignoring my question, “I’ll be driving very slowly beside you to make sure you’re safe.”

“I live two minutes from here.”

“Yeah right.”

“You cannot drive alongside me. That’s creepy and stalkerish. And I’m fine, Mr. Connelly. Really.”

Mr. Connelly let out an exasperated sigh. “Cadence, what am I gonna do with you?”

I grinned. “Let me leave so I can start walking.”

“Fine. But I don’t like this at all.”

“And what are our alternatives?” I asked.

Mr. Connelly shrugged.

“I will text you periodically. Does that help?” I asked.

“Some.”

“You’re sulking,” I said.

“Because I’m pissed I made you miss the bus. I forgot you couldn’t drive today.”

I smiled at him. “You really are a nice guy.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Now I have to go.”

This time the walk home wasn’t bad at all. In fact, I grinned the entire way. My cheeks ached when I finally got home, and Mom and Dad were already there.

“Cadence, tell us if you ever miss the bus!” Mom cried.

“And take your phone off ‘silent’ after school! We’ve been trying to call you!” Dad roared. “My God, Cadence. We were scared!”

They were scared. I was shocked. I thought my parents hated me, or at the least, didn’t care what happened to me. This was unexpected and weird. And a tad bit flattering. But mostly freaking weird. How did I miss seeing all their calls when I was texting Mr. Connelly? I mean Mark.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I had to stay after school to ask Mr. Connelly a few math questions.”