I hold my breath as Grayson pulls out his chair and sits. He's wearing his leather jacket with dark denim jeans and a green button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop. His hair is once again messy, probably a result of being windblown from riding his motorcycle. I bet his hair is soft - it looks soft.
"Morning." He grins, and my traitorous heart beats double time.
"Run anyone over this morning?" I pray my voice doesn't betray me the way my heart does.
"Nope, but if you need to tell on me again, I did park illegally in the student lot."
I bite back a smile. "Clearly telling the principal didn't help, so maybe I should call the police today."
"Wow. That escalated fast." He laughs.
I laugh, too, but it's cut short when Senorita Guzman calls the class to attention. In flawless Spanish, she tells us to work with our partners to write a rough outline to turn in by the end of class.