Fight for You (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

by Amanda Bailey

  I press my lips together. “What if he’s just weird, Zoey?”

  “Had, you are working yourself up for nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She looks just over my head in the direction of the door, her eyes widening as she mumbles, “Oh, boy.”

  Our head secretary’s tinkling, singsong voice comes to me from the front desk. “Ms. Beckett, Sawyer Rivers is here to see you.”

  My eyes lock with Zoey’s, which are still huge, like a character in a comic book. “What?” I hiss. “What’s wrong?” I can’t interpret her expression and begin an internal freak-out, squeezing my eyes tightly shut.

  She whispers, “See for yourself. That guy is not who you were expecting.” I open my eyes just as she smiles at whoever is waiting on me and waves at him.

  Swallowing hard, I stand and pivot on my heel, only to freeze in place. Oh. My. God. It’s tall, dark, and drool-worthy, aka Mr. Yummy. It’s totally the guy from karaoke night at the bar two weeks ago who I’d made the most bizarre eye contact with. I blink a few times and swallow again before regaining my good sense and walking toward him with my hand outstretched.

  “Hi. I’m Hadleigh Beckett,” I murmur just as his big hand envelops mine. His firm grip makes my heart jump in my chest.

  “Sawyer Rivers. I guess I’m all yours for the foreseeable future.” He spreads his arms out from his sides with a grin on his cute-as-fuck face, complete with a dimple on one side.

  Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no. How is this happening? This was not the problem I was anticipating, not in the slightest. He’s supposed to be a dork. Or old. Or weird. He’s not supposed to be this magnificent specimen of man. I hurriedly glance back at Zoey, who shrugs her shoulders and smiles sweetly back at both of us.

  I clasp my hands in front of me, holding them tightly to my chest. “Okay. So, I guess I should show you around first. A little tour of the building? And then we can get you copies of textbooks and talk about what you’ll be teaching and how we’ll handle all of that.” And, oh my God, I’m rambling. Make the verbal vomit stop.

  He nods, a smile twitching at the corners of his masculine lips. “Sounds great.”

  Gesturing around the room with one hand, I continue with my ramble. “This is the office. Obviously.” I point at the little wall of mailboxes. “They’ll put your name on one of those.” My eyes flicker over to the secretaries still hard at work behind the big counter that separates us from them. “Make friends with the secretaries. They know everything and are a huge help.” I jerk my thumb to the hallway behind me, where I see Zoey still watching me with an amused look on her face. “That hallway is home to the guidance department and”—my gaze swings to the other hallway—“that’s where the administrators are, including Mr. Steele, who I guess you’ve had communication with already.”

  His gaze slides down the hallway before it shifts right back to me. “Yep. He’s the one who gave me your contact info.”

  Time to get the fuck out of the office and away from Zoey’s laughing eyes. “Come on. I’ll take you around so you can get your bearings.”

  We do a fairly quick circuit of the school. I show him the main classroom hallways and the library, where we ducked in to say hello to my friend, Madison. From there, we continued to the cafeteria and the gyms. Sawyer walks next to me the whole time, seemingly at ease, and I try not to notice just how tall he is or how broad his shoulders are under his crisp gray button-down shirt. He nods at certain things I tell him and asks questions about others. How is it that he’s completely comfortable and I feel awkward as all hell? Does he not remember that our eyes locked on each other’s across that bar like it was kismet or something? I’ve never had such a strong, hunger-inducing reaction to anyone in my whole life.

  “And this is our workroom.” We step through the doorway so he can look around. “All of the history and English teachers have desks in here where we can work during our planning periods. We’ll get them to bring an extra one in for you so you have somewhere to set up shop and a place to keep your things. I eat lunch in here a lot, too, because we really don’t have much of a break for that.”

  I force myself to exhale when I realize I’ve been holding my breath for a few seconds. “So. Other things you may need to know: Brian Schmidt is our department chair, and Lauren Lands and Tom Edmund are the other history teachers in our department. They’ve all already gone home for the day; you’ll probably meet them tomorrow. We don’t all have the same lunch shifts or planning periods, so you’ll see some people more than others.” I shift my gaze to the far side of the room where my friend Piper sits at her desk, working through grading some essays. “Like I said, we share the workroom with the English department, so there’s pretty much always someone else in here with you if you happen to need something and I’m not here.”

  “Sounds good.”

  My nerves are getting the best of me. Introduce him, you dummy. “Sorry, that’s Piper Mathison, one of the English teachers, over there, and Jake Jones, the English department chair.” Both turn at their names and wave. “This is Sawyer Rivers. He’s a student teacher from Roxford College.”

  “Welcome aboard. You’ll learn a lot from Hadleigh. She’s a good teacher.” Piper gives us a smile and sends me a wink. She glances at the other two desks for their department. “Damon Madero and Kent Burgess are the other two English teachers, but they’ve gone for the day already.”

  Sawyer returns her smile. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted.”

  I laugh beside him and give myself a mental shake when I remember just how long I’ll be working with this man. “Eight weeks. That’ll be long enough to get to know everyone. Do you have plans to teach locally once you have your license?”

  “I don’t really have a fully-formed plan yet, but it’s an option for sure.” He holds my gaze, and I hear a whooshing in my ears. What the ever-loving hell is wrong with me?

  “So, what grade levels do you teach?” his deep voice rasps, and I can’t help but perk right up and pay attention.

  “Ninth grade World Geography and eleventh grade US History. Probably the very same curriculum you had in school. History doesn’t change—like, not at all.” I shoot him a smile, unable to imagine this man as a student in a high school. He’s far too … I don’t even know what. Grown up, I guess. Devastatingly handsome. Capable of making my insides flutter like I’ve swallowed a bunch of butterflies. The same damn thing happened that night at the bar. One look gave me all sorts of ideas that seem especially indecent right now. This is your student teacher, Hadleigh.

  Your very tall, very hot, very sexy student teacher. Jet-black hair I’d like to run my fingers through and dark eyes that make my insides twist every time he looks at me.

  Oh. Shit. I’m so screwed.

  “I hope I can do a good job. I love history and am a bit of a storyteller … and a keeper of strange facts—historical and otherwise.” He chuckles to himself. “Just to warn you in advance.”

  His gaze meets mine, and I can’t help but smile. My teeth catch the corner of my lip and rake over it. In an effort to distract myself, I point up to the top shelf. “Let me get you the books you’ll need.” I reach for them, but have to grab at my shirt when I realize it’s riding up to bare my midriff above my pencil skirt.

  His hand touches the middle of my back for a fraction of a second to let me know he’s behind me before he reaches up. “I’ve got them, no problem.” He pulls one down and then the other, setting them on my desk. “Where are you in the curriculum?”

  “We’re doing a unit on South America in the geography classes and then—I’ll be honest—I sped through a couple of my least favorite units in US History so we could do a current events unit. So, we’re already learning about World War I in that class.” I slick my tongue over my lip. “I’ll get you copies of the curriculums for both classes and we can make a copy of my planner, too. If there’s anything else you need or want to know about, feel free to text me. I hardly ever check my e-mail.” I turn and grab a p
iece of scrap paper and a pen from my desk and jot down my phone number for him. “We’ll take the route right past my classroom on our way back to the office so you can check it out. Your first day is Friday?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “That’s smart. Get your toes wet with just one day and then take a break.”

  “I thought it was a good plan when they told me. Thank you, Ms. Beckett.”

  “Oh my gosh.” A laugh escapes before I can hold it in. “Please—unless we’re in class, call me Hadleigh.”

  “All right, then. Hadleigh it is.”

  Chapter 4

  Sawyer

  I can’t quite tell if Hadleigh remembers where we’ve seen each other before. Thank fuck. That would be incredibly awkward. I’m definitely not bringing it up just yet. The way she’d gazed at me that night, her deep, dark eyes completely unwavering—it was like some sort of weird cosmic connection. Maybe I’ll say something once I get to know her better. Right now, I don’t think it’s appropriate given we are establishing the ground rules for me being here as a student teacher—and one she’s responsible for, at that. It’s possible she’d feel awkward if I were to point out how we’d stared at each other for way longer than was probably socially acceptable for two strangers to do. The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable or add another worry to my plate when I’m already nervous enough as it is.

  “I can walk you back to the office after you’ve seen my room, just in case you want to ask them any questions up there. Would that be okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you so much, by the way, for agreeing to work with me. I’m not sure if you get anything out of it, but I’d like to at least extend my gratitude.”

  A smile breaks across her face. “It’s something silly, like ten dollars a week from Roxford. That’s okay, though. It looks good on my record.” She shrugs and leads me out of the workroom.

  We haven’t even gotten back to the main hallway when a male teacher approaches us from the opposite direction. Given his attire—athletic pants and a polo with the Newberry High School insignia on the chest—I’d guess he’s a gym teacher or maybe a coach. His hair is disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his expression is thunderous.

  Hadleigh abruptly stops in the middle of the hallway, as he heads straight for her. I don’t know what else to do, so I stop, too. I glance at the woman I’m only just getting to know and could swear she’s ill at ease. Do I tell her I’ll see her later? Stay here? Give them some space, maybe? Shit. Hell if I know what’s appropriate. I finally elect to follow her lead.

  This guy barrels straight up to her without so much as a look at me. “Can I talk to you?” He’s practically panting as he comes to a stop in front of her.

  Hadleigh turns to me, her face tense. “I’m sorry, Sawyer. Would you mind giving me just a second?”

  My brows pull together as I look from her to him. “Um, sure.” I point to a classroom with a door standing open and lights turned off. “Do you think anyone would care if I were to poke around in there?”

  “Nope, that’s Piper’s room. You go right ahead.”

  My lips press together, semi-concerned, as I leave her side. Upon entering the classroom, I flip on a light so I can take a look around. It’s not until I’ve been looking at the setup for a few seconds that I realize I should have shut the door behind me. I’m still able to hear them clearly out in the hallway which makes me feel like I’m eavesdropping, however unintentional it may be. With a shake of my head, I sit down at Piper’s organized desk to wait.

  The guy’s voice drifts through the door, meeting my ears on a bit of a grumble. “Had, I tried to call you three times over break. Tell me you’re not avoiding me.”

  “Ed, I told you before break I thought we were better as friends. I thought you understood what I mean by that.”

  “But, baby, I miss you. Don’t you miss me?” She stays quiet, and he continues, “I definitely don’t think we’re better as friends. I miss your sweet ass.”

  I grimace. Awesome. Just what I need—to have put myself in a position where I learn all about my mentor’s sex life.

  “That’s not all there is to a relationship, Ed.”

  “Come on, baby. You know we were good together. It was always good.”

  Fuck. I close my eyes, dropping my head, chin to chest. She’s definitely in, or had been in, a relationship with this guy.

  An irrational wave of jealousy hits me square in the chest, the force of it enough to knock me off balance. This is my mentor. Just because I saw her across a damned bar and thought she seemed interesting doesn’t mean I have any claim to her.

  Her voice is muffled and low, and I can’t hear her answer, which is probably for the best.

  I rub my hands through my hair before I get up and pace the classroom, paying no real mind to what’s on the walls in front of me and wishing I hadn’t heard any of that. Because here I am, pulse racing like some kind of possessive asshole. I brace my hands, interlocked, on top of my head and stare out the window at the back of the classroom, trying to calm myself.

  A few seconds later, I hear the click of heeled footfalls behind me.

  “Sorry about that.”

  I pivot and take in her glum expression and the reddish hue on her cheeks. I bite my lower lip. Hard. “No problem. You can go catch up to him if you need to.” I gesture in the direction of where I left them. “You know, if you need to finish a conversation or something. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.”

  “No.” She looks down at her shoes, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” She looks up at me from under the thickest set of eyelashes I’ve ever seen, her dark eyes meeting mine, her gaze steady. “You’re my priority right now, not anything going on in my personal life. I should have told him it could wait. Again, I’m sorry.”

  “No need for an apology at all.” I clear my throat roughly, our whole exchange feeling decidedly awkward. Probably best to just move past it. “Would you mind telling me what the timeline is for my training, just briefly, before I go? Oh, and I was still hoping to see your classroom, too.”

  Her breath comes out in a puff and her nose crinkles. “Yes, of course. I got distracted.” She waves for me to follow her out of the room and we walk side by side just up the hallway. We enter a classroom that’s very similar to the one we were just in, only instead of Shakespeare on the walls, there are assorted world maps and posters of important people throughout history. She crosses the room to her desk and sits on the edge of it, facing me.

  I can’t help myself. My eyes drink her in from head to toe. Goddamn, those heels she’s wearing are hot. The pencil skirt molded to her curves? Also hot. The top with ruffles at the hem that had ridden up when she’d reached for the textbooks earlier? Totally hot. And the woman wearing the outfit? So incredibly fucking hot. She’s too tempting. I struggle to pay attention to what she’s saying as blood rushes from one head directly down to the one below my belt.

  “So, you’ll just observe the first week. Then we’ll slowly add a class per week until you are teaching a full schedule and can see what that’s like. We’ll discuss best grading practices, and you’ll be responsible for reviewing student work.” As she speaks and her mind focuses on what she needs to tell me, she relaxes, very much in her element. “We’ll collaborate, too. Sometimes I’ll be in the room, sometimes not. It depends on how well you’re handling both the course material itself and the kids. To be honest, handling the students is what I always worried most about. These kids are like wild monkeys with extra hormones. They’re tricky sometimes ...”

  “Dealing with students is probably my biggest worry, but I remember what it was like to be a teenage boy.” Boy, do I ever. I chuckle, hoping she’s unaware of my discomfort.

  “It wasn’t that long ago for you, I guess.”

  I raise a brow at her. “It’s been long enough. I can’t be too much younger than you.” Oh, man. Please tell me she’s not thinking of me more like a st
udent than a peer. My damn dimpled cheek strikes again. I’ve always been told I look young for my age, and here I am, doing my student teaching several years after most people do.

  “Right, of course. College senior.” Her teeth clamp down on her lip, as if she shouldn’t have brought it up.

  She obviously didn’t look at my file too closely. I’m twenty-four—she can’t be much more than twenty-five, if that.

  I understand her hesitation, if that’s the case. We had an intriguing moment when we first saw each other at the bar—assuming she does remember that it was me—and now we’re thrown together like this and she thinks I’m a lot younger. I wonder if she’s freaking the hell out. It’s an awkward position for her to be in, for sure.

  She clears her throat and shifts the conversation, and I try to follow along, even though all sorts of thoughts fly around in my head. “You might also want to think about an extracurricular event of some sort that you’d like to observe.”

  “Like a sport, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Or even a club, attending the musical production, anything like that.” She shrugs. “It’s just a suggestion. When I student taught, my college advisor liked it a lot when it came in on reports that I’d gone the extra mile and really immersed myself in the experience.”

  “You didn’t student teach all that long ago, I take it?” I can’t help but swing the conversation back to our ages. I want to know if I’m crazy to be thinking about her the way I have been. “I mean, I never want to assume a woman’s age, but you seem pretty young.” I give her a sheepish grin.

  The corners of her mouth tip cautiously into a smile. “No, that’s okay. I’m twenty-five, soon to be twenty-six. This is my fifth year teaching. We aren’t technically supposed to get student teachers until we’ve taught five years, but I guess they were desperate.” She gives me a slightly uncomfortable smile.