“My name is Mr. McKendrick. I’m going to be your world history teacher this year, not Mrs. Ross. I have very few rules, but one of them is to be on time,” he stated in a perfunctory tone as he paced the front of the room. “The other is a little unorthodox. I want you to be curious…but respectful. Ask questions. Challenge one another. I want you looking outside the box, so to speak, because that is where you’ll find some of the most fascinating discoveries.”
Mr. McKendrick.
He was intriguing and definitely outside the box.
I was, without a doubt, fascinated.
She watched me from her seat—third row from the back, two aisles in—with eyes so blue I could see them from where I was standing. They locked on mine the second she settled, and she continued to scrutinize me.
As I stood at the front of the class introducing the course, I waited for my morals and drummed-in ethics to assert themselves. To remind me that I wasn’t supposed to be affected by a student’s inspection.
Thirty minutes later, and I was still waiting.
I sat at my desk and observed the students quietly working on their first assignment, but I continued to be drawn back to the young lady who had shown up late.
She was positively alluring. From her porcelain skin to the curls of chestnut hair that bounced against the curve of her high, full breasts—Addison Lancaster was more woman than girl, and she was dangerous.
The other males in the room knew it too if the way they acted around her was any indication. They seemed caught on every lick of her plump, red lips—and yes, I had caught those too.
So there I sat, trying to work out what it was that was making her impossible to ignore and then she glanced up, and I knew.
It was those eyes. They held secrets they shouldn’t have.
Dark, sad, and inviting all rolled into one, and yet, she was far too young to possibly understand any of those emotions in their absolute form.
Breaking the searing connection, I focused back on my textbook, but all I continued to feel was Addison Lancaster watching me.
The first day of school went by faster than I expected and everything was exactly how it should be. Except for Mr. McKendrick. I had not expected him.
Lying between the white sheets of my bed, I enjoyed the coolness of them as I parted my bare thighs and slipped my fingers down between to touch.
Nighttime was my time, a time where I could imagine whatever I wanted, and that night, I imagined my teacher. The man who had dismissed me in the blink of an eye. The man who was making my body weep as I lay in my bed. Why I found his rejection so appealing, I was unable to pinpoint, but it was. Almost…challenging.
Biting my top lip, I slid two fingers along the edge of my panties. I wiggled them in under the pink cotton and flexed my toned thighs. As I parted my legs farther and arched my back, I pushed my body into the weight of the sheet, enjoying the feel of it over me—imagining it was him. I teased myself, flirting my fingers over my bare mound. My mouth parted, his name on my lips as my fingertips grazed my clit and then dipped below to slide inside.
I’d been doing this from an early age, learning my body and exactly the way I needed to be touched. Brandon never got it right. He was always in a rush, and it was over before it began. Didn’t that apply to most boys?
But Mr. McKendrick…
I knew he’d be different.
He’d touch me the way I desired, and he’d take me the way I craved.
Not like a boy—but like a man.
Chapter Two
Present…
Tick, tick, tock.
“Would you say that you consciously try to push people’s boundaries, Addison?”
Tick, tick—what?
Seated again in the tiny, white office, I glance around at the bare walls, then back to the desk placed in here for my “stay” and I think—what?
My face must convey my thoughts because he starts over.
“Or do you think it’s more”—he pauses, I’m sure for dramatic effect—“subconscious?”
He knows I’m aware that I don’t have to answer, so what does he get from me? Silence. Complete and utter silence.
“Okay, let’s go back to Mr. McKendrick.”
Let’s not, I think as I study my nails.
“You aren’t in trouble.”
Aren’t I? Being locked away sure doesn’t help his case in convincing me.
“We just need more information.”
Don’t we all.
Tick, tick, tock.
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about how things began?”
I feel my anger start to rise. This man knows me better than anyone but about this, he knows nothing.
They’re all grasping. Grasping for a reason to make this his fault.
To somehow make him the devil and me the angel in this salacious little tale of sin.
They want to know who approached whom.
None of your fucking business, that’s who.
If he thinks this is going to be easy like it use to be, he best reevaluate.
I only have me to think of now. Me in this place, with nothing but time. Time to remember or, as they are all hoping, time to forget.
Tick, tick, tock—the mouse ran up the clock.
Is my hour up yet? It has to be close.
I glance at the only thing on the wall, a wooden clock, and then turn back to Doc and lick my lips.
Do I like to push boundaries? Yes.
I raise my thumb and bite my nail, noticing his eyes drop to it before he shakes his head.
Do I do it consciously? Yes. Yes, I do.
Past…
Again, she was late. This was the kind of conduct I could not tolerate. Blatant disrespect for my authority, that’s what this was. I shut my classroom door with a firm hand and locked it.
She was going to be that student. The one I battled all fucking year.
Clenching my teeth, I faced my other students. There was a clear void where she’d sat yesterday and the more I fixated on the empty space, the more annoyed I became.
Everyone sat patiently, waiting to see what would happen when Addison Lancaster decided to grace us with her presence, but she remained a no-show. Knowing I couldn’t let a student dictate the way I ran things, I stepped to the front of the room and rested back against the desk.
“Okay, guys. Please open your textbooks to page thirty-seven. As you know, this term we’ll be learning all about the reign of King Henry the Eighth. So let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”
Straightening from the desk, I slid my hands into my pockets as the kids flipped their books open.
“Did this dude really have six wives?”
I looked down at my roster to check the name of the boy talking. Brandon Williams.
“Yes, he really did, Brandon” I confirmed.
He slouched back in his chair and dropped his arm on the desk. “The dude had game.”
“He was a king, you idiot,” his friend ribbed. “He was rich and powerful. Women love that shit. Why do you think Addy’s with you, your brain?”
“Ahh, Sam? Language, please.”
“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning a ruddy color as if embarrassed, but I’d already moved on and was thinking about…Addy? No, that didn’t fit her at all. Not the girl who’d given me that look…that inappropriate look from the day before.