𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [slow updates]

𝟑

CINDY

"Bye, Tommy." I hum, pressing a kiss to Thomas's temple. "Love you."

"I love you more, baby." He smiles sleepily up at me, stretching his long arms above his head.

He'd deny this if i asked, but I know he's looking at me. I can always feel his eyes on me.

As I reach to shut his bedroom door, I hear him hum after me. I turn to look at him again, a brow raise. Does he need something?

His smile spreads. "Are you wearing a skirt?"

I grin because I know he loves this skirt. It's a black pencil skirt that ends right at my calf. Maybe he likes it due to the fact that I wore it on our first date.

Truthfully, I'm a small person. Not to say that I don't have curves, but more so to say that they aren't necessarily conventionally "sexy". I say this because I doubt he likes it for my nonexistent ultra hot bod. That being said, I feel like I should acknowledge that this skirt is very flattering. Oh, and that I'm an insecure bitch with body dysmorphia.

If I did look like a model, chances are I wouldn't know.

"Do a spin, gorgeous." And I do. He does that stupid wolf-whistle thing and even though I roll my eyes, I'm smiling.

"Ok, I have to go. Love you, love you."

"MWAH! Drive safe!" He calls after me.

I fix my bag over my shoulder. However did I get so friggin' lucky? Ugh. I wish I could just stay home with him forever.

At the same time though, I don't. Tommy streams video games and does Youtube. He's pretty loud all day. Maybe a part of me should be thankful that I get quiet time when I'm at school, but at the same time, why should I not want to be with my fiancé?

We're forever, as far as I can tell. Getting used to the yelling and groaning before we move in together is probably for the best. He practically already lives at my house, so maybe I should stop sneaking into his apartment and actually get to the adjusting.

❄︎❄︎❄︎

"You guys kind of have a free period, I guess. All I had planned was the worksheets." I shrug, placing a pile of papers into my paper tray. I'll get to grading those when I'm not desperately hungry.

Jamaal asks, "Can we eat since you are?"

"Of course. Get crumbs or trash on my floor and get an F, people." I say, narrowing my eyes specifically at Tanner. "Kidding, I'm not Mrs. Hartly. I don't believe in wrongfully grading my kids."

That earns me the laughs my ego needs to keep itself inflated. Tanner raises his hands in mock surrender and I snort. Smartass.

They all know that rule one in here is no tattletales. What happens in the classroom, stays in the classroom. So if my comment makes its way to Hartly, I have almost thirty people to interrogate.

I get to eating, along with half of the class. Every once in a while, I'll look up in search of a rare delinquent. But everyone's on their best behavior. Some are on their phones, others on school laptops, some eating and some still working on that worksheet.

During one of my searches, I find Brooke passed out at her desk. She's been struggling with grades a lot recently. She went from almost straight A's to nearly all D's. But this girl is working harder than anyone I've ever met to get that fixed.

I stand from my desk and make my way over to her as I unfold a blanket. As I drape it over her shoulders, she jumps in her seat and looks up at me, confused.