We’d attached a blank piece of paper to it for “note keeping.” “Corey,” I said. “Yeah?” I lifted my brows. “Oh shit. I mean, present!” I felt my mouth twitch. They were too fucking adorable, the brats. “Gael?” “Present!” “Tate.” “Present, Sir.” “Nobody likes a brownnoser, dude,” Corey told him. “Write up Corey for insolence,” Greer said. I nodded and jotted down Corey’s name and insolence, minus one point. “Fuck,” Corey whispered.
