I’d overheard some of the conversations among students. I generally make a practice of ignoring them as much as possible, but today it had been hard to block it all out. Instead of the usual chitchat about the latest app they are all downloading, who is dating whom, or how pretty their nails or hair look, I heard nothing but conversation about our new student teacher. The whispers back and forth had gone something like this:
“He’s probably only twenty or twenty-one. That’s only, like, five years older than us.”
“He’d be a senior if he’s student teaching this semester, right?”
“I wonder where he goes to school.”
“Hot. College guys are so freaking hot. I’d do him.”
“Oh, I’d totally get with that. You have to share.”
I close my eyes and try to obstruct all further memories of their chatter from rushing through my head because, oh my God, who am I to talk? Wasn’t it just like three weeks ago that I was calling him Mr. Yummy and tall, dark, and drool-worthy? I’m having the same thoughts as all of these young girls but I’m his mentor, for crap’s sake. The only thing that makes me feel slightly better is that he’s older than what they assume, closer to my age than theirs.
Oh, and let’s not forget another very important piece of information—I’m fairly certain the blonde at the bar had been his girlfriend. He. Has. A. Girlfriend. He’s taken. And he’s your responsibility—your mentee.
And, ugh. So damn attractive. Why does he have to be so mouthwatering? I mentally slap myself for the twentieth time today. With a sigh, I think back to the second class he’d observed.
It had gone mostly the same as the first, only he hadn’t taken as many notes. And every freaking time he made eye contact with me I’d lost my train of thought. I don’t remember having bumbled around a lesson like that in a very long time.
And it’s not even his fault. He’s observing my teaching style and how I manage a classroom of kids, and here I am taking in the cut of his strong jaw and noticing the dimple in his left cheek. Worse, I’d taken to imagining what it would be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me. The button-down shirt he’s wearing is doing him all kinds of favors, showing off his broad chest and shoulders, while the rolled-up shirtsleeves draw my eyes right to his lean, muscled forearms, complete with bulging veins. What the hell is it about men rolling up their sleeves on a damn button-down shirt that increases the hotness factor exponentially?
I finish off half of my sandwich and lean back in the chair, crossing my ankle over my other leg at the knee. “So. I saw you taking lots of notes. Do you have any questions?” I notice Sawyer has already plowed through one entire sandwich and is working on his second. Impressive.
He wipes his mouth with a napkin before answering. “You know, it’s not so much specific questions as just topics I want to make sure we discuss. How to handle certain things—like how you set expectations in the classroom and what you do if those aren’t met. That sort of thing. Then a whole bunch of boring stuff, like where is the copy machine, who makes the copies, what kind of grading system do I use, how do you enter grades, et cetera.”
“Yeah, most of that is stuff we’ll cover along the way, but I will say I’m a firm believer in setting expectations from the very beginning, just like you mentioned. They will one hundred percent test you, and if you don’t have an idea of how you want your class to run, well … they’ll run right over you.”
“And what if I notice things I don’t like about how certain students are acting toward one another? Do I say something?”
“I’d probably try to do it in private, if possible, unless the offending party is really out of line. One time I heard this kid talking about some girl who was sitting at her desk, minding her own business. He oh-so-boldly pointed at her and stated to his buddy that he was going to ‘tap that ass.’” I give a swift shake with my head. “I sent that kid directly down to the office.”
Sawyer’s eyes bug out. “You’re kidding. Aren’t these just teenagers?”
I give a little huff. “You’d be surprised at the stuff that comes out of their mouths. Did you bring this up for a particular reason?”
“Eh, I just overheard some catty behavior. I don’t know their names yet, but there were two girls that asked a third about her T-shirt. It was obvious they were messing with her—it was a Girl Scout T-shirt.” He shrugs. “Just seemed mean to me. She was sweet and excited about cookie sales and they made her feel bad. I could tell.”
I nod. “I bet I know exactly who you’re talking about, but you can point them out to me. It was during second period, right? The Girl Scout would be Sadie.” I reach for a fork and the salad I’d packed this morning and dig into it while I wait to see what else he has to say.
“Yeah. I’ll keep an eye on it and let you know if I see anything else.” Jutting his chin toward the salad I’m holding, he gives me a brief nod. “Did you know forks were once seen as blasphemous because they were considered to be artificial hands?”
Well, that came out of nowhere. I stop chewing, blink twice, and tilt my head to the side to stare at him. Finally, I swallow. “Come again?”
He grins and the adorable dimple I’d noticed earlier becomes very prominent on his cheek. “Sorry. Just an example of one of the random bits of trivia I know. Most of it is history related, but really, I’m just a fan of odd information. Somehow, I manage to file it all away in my head, just waiting for the perfect time to spring it on someone.” He shrugs with a smile.
I set my salad down, the irreverent fork sitting squarely inside the container. “Right. I remember you said something about liking strange facts. But, wait—seriously? Forks were seen as … ungodly?”
“Yeah. I guess people used to eat everything with their hands before the fork was invented by someone in Italy around the eleventh century. A lot of people wouldn’t use the forks though, because they were seen as sacrilegious.”
“What the fork?” I press my lips together, trying to stop it, but when I look at him and see the twinkle in his eye, I let out a full-on giggle-snort. I rush to cover my mouth.
Sawyer grins. “Must have made all that pasta difficult to eat without them, huh?”
That makes me giggle again. “Oh, boy. Tell me more about yourself, King of Oddball Trivia.”
He chuckles. “All right. So, besides being a bit of a trivia fanatic, you know I’m here via Roxford’s teacher education program. About six months ago, I moved in with a friend who has an apartment not too far from here.” He stops to think for a second. “I guess you could say I’m a decent cook, so I do that and my roommate does all the cleaning.”
“That’s a good deal right there.”
He grins broadly. “I like to think so.” He looks down, thinking. “Let’s see … Um, my parents and two younger sisters live in Connecticut where I grew up. And that’s pretty much me in a nutshell.” He pauses to take another bite of his second sandwich.
“Do you see your family much?”
He shakes his head as he swallows. “Nope. Not during the semester. I was just home over Christmas, though.”
“I saw you originally attended Boston University. Why the switch to a smaller school?”
“I wanted a small-town vibe for student teaching. Just personal preference.”
“I get that. That’s why I moved here. I’m originally from Philly.” I shrug. As much as I feel comfortable with Sawyer, I’m not ready to delve into the rest of my family background with him and definitely not ready to go into why I’d left. It seems a little soon to be quite so open.
“Nice. I love Philly.” He smiles, and I can’t say I know what he’s about to say, but I can tell by the gleam in his eye it’s going to be interesting. “Did you know that the first Philly cheesesteaks didn’t actually have cheese on them?”
“What? No! Talk about blasphemous.”
“Seriously. Look it up.” He smirks and takes a bite of his almost-finished second sandwich. He chews thoughtfully and before he s
ays anything else, licks a bit of mustard from his lower lip.
“I’ll do that.” I hide my laugh behind my hand. This guy is too much fun. “Tell me how you’d describe yourself, Sawyer.”
He raises a brow, peering at me carefully. “Hmm. Well, I’m generally dependable, organized, capable … and I want to do this job right. I’m looking forward to learning everything you can teach me.”
A grin splits across my face, and I’m just about to say something when a sharp knock on the door makes both of us jump. I hop up and open it to find Ed on the other side.
Shit. Just who I didn’t want to see. I pull the door open wide and step back. Ed plants his shoulder against the doorframe. He eyes Sawyer and then me.
With a flourish of my arm toward Sawyer, I say, “This is my student teacher for the semester, Sawyer Rivers. Sawyer, this is Ed Haskin, one of our P.E. teachers. He’s also the wrestling coach.”
Ed doesn’t speak for a second, and I can’t help but wonder just what the hell he’s here for. How many times do I have to break up with him for it to get through his head?
From behind me, Sawyer speaks up. “Nice to meet you, Ed.”
When Ed doesn’t respond, Sawyer coughs before asking, “Did you know Abraham Lincoln is in the wrestling hall of fame? He had only one loss in over three hundred matches …” His voice trails off as his brows pinch together in the middle of his forehead. He’s no dummy, he can sense as well as I can that Ed is in a mood.
Ed looks from me to Sawyer again and finally barks out a derisive laugh. “What the hell kind of nerd knows stuff like that?”
Sawyer shrugs and turns back to his food to pop a potato chip into his mouth, seemingly unbothered by my big bully of an ex-boyfriend.
“The smart kind, Ed. The really freaking smart kind. Can I talk to you in the hallway?” I glance over my shoulder. “Sorry, Sawyer. I’ll be right back.”
Sawyer just lifts his hand in a gesture that I read as No worries, go ahead and deal with that jerk.
I step into the hall with Ed, closing the door behind me with an ominous click. To my ears it sounds like the first gunshot of a battle. When Ed keeps walking instead of stopping to talk to me, I rush forward and catch his elbow, forcing him to stop and turn around. “What is wrong with you?” I hiss. A quick glance in both directions tells me no one is within earshot. “Why would you say that to him?”
Ed shrugs. “Eh. He’s a big boy. I’m sure he can handle a little good-natured ribbing.”
I poke my fingers into Ed’s chest. “That was neither good-natured, nor a ribbing. It was you being a possessive asshole. He’s my student teacher, for Pete’s sake, and we”—I flick my finger between us—“are no longer together.” I wet my lips and try my best to not be nice, like Quinn and the other girls had suggested. “So, everything you’ve been doing lately is just solidifying my opinion of you and making you look like even more of an ass. Now, was there something you wanted to say to me, or what?”
I can only hope he’s here to tell me that he did what he’d promised me when I’d said I was no longer interested in dating him. I take a calming breath, observing the cruel set to his eyes as his leering, unwelcome gaze roams over my body. Nope. He definitely won’t have done as I’d asked. I can tell.
He smirks at me and looks down at this phone for a second, fiddling with it. “In fact, it wasn’t so much something I wanted to say as something to show you. Check your texts.” He winks at me and walks away.
Chapter 9
Sawyer
I don’t know what I did to get on the guy’s bad side, but that’s twice in the two times I’ve encountered him that he’s been a rude bastard. I know I wasn’t supposed to have heard their conversation before, but it would seem as though Hadleigh broke things off with him but he won’t leave her alone. That in and of itself irritates the hell out of me—the fact that he isn’t respecting what she said. And then to stop by today to do what? Taunt her? Mess with her? I can’t quite tell what his purpose was in showing up.
Maybe the fact that he’s found me with her both times is setting him off. I’m not quite sure what to tell him. I was assigned to her; it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. No one can see into the inner workings of my mind to know that I’m attracted to her. There’s certainly no sign stamped on my forehead that says Hot for Teacher—even if I totally am.
With a shake of my head, I polish off my lunch and discard my trash. I glance at the little student desk where Hadleigh’s lunch is still spread out on a napkin, half eaten, and I feel badly for her. A peek at my watch tells me there’s no way she’s going to get to finish eating.
I pull out my phone and shoot off a quick text to Willow.
Me: So far, so good, I think. I’m learning a lot.
Willow: Got your head screwed on straight?
Me: Yeah.
Willow: You still think she doesn’t know it was you that night?
Me: There’s no telling. She’s been very professional so far.
Me: One class to go.
Me: And I’ve only told her three of my weird history facts so far.
Willow:
I’m still laughing when Hadleigh rushes in a minute later, red-faced. “Sawyer, I’m so sorry about that.” She sits down facing me, shaking her head. “Ed has been a real asshole lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” She covers her mouth, eyes wide as they flick to mine. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be saying things like that. And I probably shouldn’t be swearing in front of you, either.”
I crack a joke to try to bring the smile back to her beautiful face. “It’s fine. Your potty mouth won’t offend me.” Her eyes look sad, and I’m sure my guess about what is wrong with that guy is spot-on. I don’t know why she doesn’t just say it. He’s jealous. He wants her back. Suddenly, without any forethought, I blurt out, “Is he your boyfriend or something?”
“No?” Her face flushes, and she casts her gaze down to her lap.
I cock my head to the side, wondering why her answer sounded like she was questioning herself. I take a few seconds to study her—her cheeks are stained a deep cherry red, and she seems completely thrown by whatever conversation they’d had out there. My eyes drift down to her hands and there’s a slight tremble to them that I can only assume she doesn’t want me to see because she quickly folds her hands together on her lap.
“I probably shouldn’t ask, but was that ‘no’ followed by a question mark?”
She’s firmer this time. “No. No, he’s not.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and purses her lips as she exhales slowly. “We dated for a while.” She meets my gaze and our eyes lock, just like they had that night at the bar. After a few seconds, where my heart threatens to thump right out of my chest, she says quietly, “I’m sorry, Sawyer. I have a feeling I shouldn’t be discussing stuff like this with you.”
“Right. That was far too personal. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” I rub my palm over my cheek, trying to decide if I should say what I really want to. Does she remember the electricity between us that night? Does she even know it was me? Fuck. It. “This may also be too personal, but I’m going to put it out there anyway. Do you remember—”
My question is interrupted by the bell, signaling the end of the lunch period. She stands, her eyes flicking away from me, and makes quick work of throwing away her uneaten lunch. “We’ll have more time to talk later.”
My chest feels tight as I watch every move she makes. I get the sense she does remember and knows just what I was about to ask. “Okay. Later, then. Let’s get back to the classroom.”
Once Hadleigh introduces me to the students in her afternoon class, I have a seat in the back again. According to the schedule Hadleigh had given me, this should be a repeat of the first lesson. I settle in to observe, thinking about whether I actually want to bring up the night at the bar to Hadleigh. I realize it would probably be a very bad idea, so I need to get my head right before my mouth messes things up. I’d just finished tell
ing Willow all was well, then I almost went and dropped an atomic bomb on my working relationship with Hadleigh. At least I hadn’t actually done it.
As Hadleigh gets ready to begin, my attention is grabbed by the hushed whispers of the girls sitting directly in front of me.
The blonde leans over to the brunette at her side. “Did you see Ms. Beckett and Mr. Haskin arguing in the hallway earlier?”
The brunette shakes her head. “No! When?”
“Right before lunch ended. I had a pass to see my guidance counselor. They were really going at it.”
“What was it about?”
“I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but I bet they are totally doing each other. It was too heated for them not to be. A lovers’ quarrel.” The blonde giggles.
Cue internal cringing.
Chapter 10
Hadleigh
I’m pretty sure Sawyer and I avoided certain disaster on Friday. If he’d been ready to say something about that night at the bar, he’d thought better of it by the time we’d gotten to the planning period at the end of that first day. And there was no way I was going to bring it up. Thinking about that night makes me feel really weird now that our work relationship is forming. His first whole week with me has been great, and we get along really well. I don’t want to screw that up for either of us. He’s funny and kind, and honestly, I think he’s a great guy. Like someone I’d hang out with outside of work as a friend, though we work well together, too. He cracks me up with all of his random knowledge. So. Much. Fun.
I flick my pen back and forth while grading a few papers. Sawyer’s across the room at the lone workroom computer. My mind wanders until it lands on something I really should have thought of earlier. “Aw, shit.”
Fight for You (Flirting with Forever Book 2) Page 5
