Raising my chin, I studied my reflection.
Narrowing my gaze, I pouted my lips. Doc was always spouting something or other about inner beauty being important, but I’d once heard a quote from Marilyn Monroe that said, Boys think girls are like books. If the cover doesn't catch their eye, they won't bother to read what's inside. In my opinion, she had a much more accurate take on these kinds of things. So, as usual, I was careful to make sure that this cover was extra eye-catching.
I peeked at my timekeeper faithfully guarding me and followed the second hand as it made its rounds. I wished it would hurry up and get to the twelve, because then I’d feel right about leaving. Instead, I was held in place in front of the mirror—by invisible chains.
Tick, tick, tock.
First day on the job, and already I wanted out.
I scrawled my name across the chalkboard like the responsible teacher I was expected to be. Unfortunately, the smell of the chalk and the scrape of it along the board did nothing to make me feel responsible; it just made me want to leave.
The clock hanging on the wall of my world history classroom was driving me crazy. I hadn’t been any place recently where I needed a clock or a watch, and the reminder that I was back on somebody else’s schedule was irritating as hell.
I’d just returned from a six-month trip traveling throughout Europe where I’d gotten to visit some of my favorite historical sites, so to be restricted to four walls and a door made me…antsy. The tie I wore felt as though it was about to choke the life from me, and right then, I would have welcomed it.
Not coming home hadn’t been an option. The minute I’d been told about my father’s deteriorating health, I knew I had to go to him. So thirteen hours and fifty minutes later, I was back in Denver, Colorado—that was a little over a month ago.
The door to my right crashed open, alleviating the suffocating stillness of the classroom, and the first student stepped into the empty space.
Boy, girl. Boy, boy, girl.
One after another they trickled in, and as the seats filled, I remained in the far corner, leaning up against the bookcase.
I always did this whenever I started a new class, especially at a new school. I observed. It was interesting to see how the students interacted before they knew I was there. Before they put on a good show and behaved as they were expected to.
Talking, giggling, and flirting, the students on the first day were always excited to see one another. It was the perfect opportunity to catch them in that snapshot of their true selves. That moment of unobserved freedom.
As everyone took their seats and the second bell peeled through the halls, I pushed away from the shelves and moved to stand in front of the old wooden desk at the front of my classroom.
One by one, heads lifted, and when they found me waiting on them, and realized I’d been standing there all along, they immediately settled. The talking subsided and slipped into whispers and then finally, silence.
I remained steady and still until I had every last person’s attention. Then the door opened for the final time that morning and she stepped into my classroom. Late.
I looked at her—she looked at me.
My ending, staring right at me from the very beginning.
Hating that I was late, I rushed through the classroom door and was shocked to be faced with a man instead of Mrs. Ross.
This was a stranger. A stranger who knew nothing of Addison Lancaster, and right now he was regarding me with annoyance.
That was the moment I first saw Mr. McKendrick.
He was the teacher every girl dreamed about. The one that we all had a crush on the second we saw him. With brown hair streaked gold by the sun and pulled back into a short, messy ponytail at the nape of his neck, he was unlike any teacher I’d ever seen before—and my reaction to him was immediate and potent.
“And who might you be?”
That voice. I swear it touched me—I was that affected.
“Miss?”
Blinking once, I tried to clear my mind and realized that, for one brief moment, the ticking had stopped. My body had overpowered my mind, something that never happened with me.
“Miss? I’m talking to you.”
Laughter erupted from the class, and suddenly it was back—tick, tick, tock.
The new teacher turned on my loud classmates, and as their mouths closed, the room plunged back into tense silence.
Wow, that was some kind of authority right there. One glance from him, and my unruly peers shut down…became respectful—and we weren’t even ten minutes into the period.
Again, his eyes came back to mine and even as they conveyed his irritation, they also held something else. Something I instantly craved.
This cover that I had so carefully constructed had caught his eye.
Like a lion, his stare was fierce as he appraised me. All men did—they couldn’t seem to help it. No matter how inappropriate they knew it was, I always drew their attention.
With my wide, bowed lips, innocent blue eyes, and a figure that belonged on a twenty-something—I knew what I had and I was never afraid to use it. Unlike most men, whose expression betrayed their unwanted interest, I pictured this one stalking me from across the room and me allowing it.
“Miss? I asked you a question.”
I’d forgotten what he’d asked the minute I saw him. I was too busy imagining him touching me, tasting me. It took four long strides for him to be close enough that I could see the dark stubble dotting his jawline.
“You’re late,” he stated, his tone impenetrable as he opted for a different route. “On your first day. Not a fantastic way to start the school year, wouldn’t you agree?”
Aiming a coy look at him from beneath my lashes, I finally found my voice and assured myself a firm place on his shit list.
“Maybe you could keep me after school and teach me to tell time.”
What a joke that was, considering my obsession when it came to time management. Not that he knew that.
“Since it’s the first day, I don’t think that will be necessary. But from now on, be on time. Your name, please.”
“Addison. Addison Lancaster.”
“Thank you. Now go and take a seat.”
Shrugging my bag farther up on my shoulder, I spun on my toes and made my way down the second aisle of desks with a little more sway to my hips than usual. Glancing at Brandon, I noticed him wink, reminding me of exactly why I’d been running late. Returning the sexy gesture, I owned the sensual smile I aimed his way as it spread across my mouth.
Flirting to me was like breathing to everyone else, and I always made sure I had their attention when I put on a show. As the school’s track champion, I strived for perfection, and I liked seeing the results of my efforts. I was their role model, their person to admire—and to hate.
Everyone, including the teachers, knew me, and everyone loved me. Except for the man standing at the front of my world history class. He definitely did not love me, but I’d always liked a challenge. It was in my nature to win.
I took my seat and let my bag slide slowly down my shoulder and onto the floor. I crossed one leg over the other and returned my attention to my new teacher whose eyes were moving methodically over each and every one of us, before finally coming back to rest on mine.
He studied me for a moment in a way that felt calculated before moving on to Jessica, who was seated in the aisle to my right. Just like that—I was dismissed.