by Ava Claire
“The principal,” Lisa murmured beside me.
I plastered on a grin, shaking his hand warmly. “This your place?”
“That it is! Molding the minds of tomorrow,” he winked. He stepped to the right, practically displacing Lisa as he shoved a tablet and pen in my direction. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I get your autograph?”
“Not a problem at all. Who should I make it out to?” I asked smoothly.
“I’m only your biggest fan! The Last Resort is my absolute, positively favorite movie,” he said with a nervous, high pitched giggle that was like nails on a chalkboard. “Gregory Patterson. But you can call me Greg.”
I cleared my throat and signed it, handing it back over with a smile. The guy was a little odd, but I appreciated every one of my fans. I’d be nowhere without them.
He committed every swirl of my signature to memory, then blushed bright red, remembering the occasion. “When your publicist called me up, I was just stunned. Our school has a very...special student body. They’re not used to celebrity guests.”
“And I’m sure that’s why Mr. Wallace insisted on this school in particular,” Missy said with a snide little chuckle. Her eyes wandered to me and narrowed. We both knew the real reason I’d chosen this school, against her counsel.
Megan.
After our short text exchange, which she ended by telling me to go to hell, I knew that I needed to get a moment with her. To prove that I could be good for her, even if I wasn’t completely convinced of that fact myself.
Lisa jumped in on the staring game, piling on her mutual skepticism about my school of choice.
I cut through the stifling tension, eyes forward. “Well, I’m sure you’re a busy man, Principal Patterson. I’d love to go on in and meet the kids.”
“Of course!”
Me, Missy, Lisa and Missy’s squirrelly assistant filed into the building like a group on some sort of tour.
I expected bright walls filled with construction paper drawings, smiling faces and linoleum that held the scuff of every kid that skipped down the halls. I expected the life and energy that was only found in an elementary school. Visuals that personified the precarious time when kids still believed they could be presidents and astronauts and world-class ballerinas—before the world chewed up those hopes and dreams and spit them out.
I stepped through the door of the school. The smell of must and mold hit me like a punch to the jaw. I fought the urge to cover my nose, to shut off the sense, but others were assaulted in kind.
Sight—there was no color on the walls, no motivational posters or smiling faces. The paint that wasn’t peeling from the walls was the color of day’s old oatmeal, graying and putrid. Instead of the student’s achievements being the focal point, a metal detector was.
Touch—the air prickled my skin, like I was walking over a grave. My fingers were as cold as the eyes of the security guard as I pulled off my watch and belt and walked through the detector.
Missy followed behind me, sliding her Rolex back onto her wrist and repositioning herself.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to a school that has security pat downs and TSA body scanners,” I said warily.
She saddled me with an unsympathetic snort. “Would it have mattered? You seemed set on this school. I thought you’d be impressed that Megan Scott is a real-life Michelle Pfeiffer, getting her Dangerous Minds on daily. Saving the world, one juvenile delinquent at a time.”
Geez. Who shit in her coffee this morning?
I’d been lucky, bused to a good school far from my poor neighborhood. If I’d lived in the city, I could have ended up in a school like this.
Guilt crept over me like nails raking my skin for making a joke about their daily reality. Making light of their surroundings, just like Missy. “Juvenile delinquents? You don’t know these kids.”
I turned down the hall, blank walls stretching to a teacher and kid. From the way she was glaring at him, you’d think that he’d just done something horrible, but he just pulled up his pants and followed her into the classroom.
“See what I mean?” she said smugly, like the interaction we’d just seen supported her bullshit view.
“Oh, I saw,” I said with a scowl. “I don’t think you did though.”
She gaped at me like I was being ridiculous. “These kids have to walk through a metal detector just to get inside the building. Good schools, with good kids, don’t have metal detectors. That’s just a fact.”
I stared at her in awe. My publicist was so out of touch with the public, and humanity, that it was flabbergasting.
Typical upper-middle class sensibilities, lumping the at-risk population together, while ignoring the machinations that brought them there in the first place. “The only thing these kids are guilty of is being born poor.”
Her mouth tipped into an amused grin. “The Robin Hood angle? I like it. Make sure you play that up once we get to the classroom.”
All right—I was done with shock and disbelief. She was making me angry.
Principal Patterson was batting his eyes back and forth between us with a confused look on his face. And even though the photographer was in Whitmore and Creighton’s pocket, the right kind of soundbite would make him forget his loyalties. If I didn’t have a word with Missy, he was going to capture something golden.
I steered Missy to the side, barely touching her arm because the thought of touching her at the moment made me sick to the stomach.
“This isn’t an act for me. The way this place looks, the way that teacher berated the kid back there—these kids got the short end of the stick. I’m not going to profit off that.”
Her dark eyes flung daggers. “Not an act? Who do you think you’re kidding? You’re not here out of the kindness of your heart. This isn’t some sort of Cade Wallace Outreach Program preliminary meeting. And you could care less about promoting Soldier’s Creed. You’re here because you want to find out if Megan Scott’s carpet matches the drapes.”
I stormed forward, red bleeding all over everything. I ignored the flash of fear in Missy’s eyes as she backed up against the wall.
“Cade!”
Lisa’s voice snapped me from the haze. I realized all eyes were on me. The cameraman’s eyes were shining with delight. Patterson had forsaken his nervous smile for a rounded, disconcerting expression. Missy’s assistant looked ready to dash, and Lisa’s gaze was narrowed in concern.
I gave Lisa a small nod, and she glided toward us, letting out a laugh that sliced through the tension. Missy collected herself and used the opportunity to get us back on track, strutting down the hall.
Once we’d started on our way, and there was some distance between us and Missy, Lisa leaned in. “What was that back there?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Principal Patterson gave us the tour like we were in Buckingham Palace instead of a school in desperate need of repair. “This is the gym where the children get in lots of physical activity.” We walked past a darkened corridor that gave me the creeps. “And this is the art wing.”
I clenched my jaw. It didn’t seem like anyone had done any art in that wing in awhile.
“And right this way is the third grade classrooms.”
The doors were open, and young voices fluttered into the hall. I paused at one of the doors. They had obviously tried to suck all the joy from this place, but the bright faces were proof that all wasn’t lost. In the next classroom, all the kids heads were bowed, scribbling on their papers. A young boy at the front glanced up and met my gaze. His brown eyes narrowed, then bulged from his skull as his mouth worked excitedly. I pressed my pointer finger to my lips, but others caught on and looked up. My name rippled across the room as they rose to their feet.
Lisa yanked me away from the spotlight. “Save the photo op for the proper class, Cade.”
I opened my mouth for a comeback, but it withered away when I heard Megan’s voice.
It rose over the sound of my name, repeating over and over, the shrill of teacher’s telling their kids to go back to their desks. It was warm and airy, like light flowed through every inflection. Turned every word into a song.
Patterson stood in front of me, paused at the door. There were kids behind me, tugging on my shirt. I expected the kids in her class to turn and dash over, but they didn’t even notice the commotion. They were riveted by whatever story Megan was telling.
It wasn’t until Patterson knocked, and Megan glanced at the doorway that their heads perked in our direction. She gave him a tight, wary smile, then her eyes shot to me.
I was an actor; I’d done movies where I had to sell the moment I fell for the love interest. We’d lock eyes, and the music would swell to personify the invisible pull between us. I was good at acting. Pretending.
But there was nothing more real than what I shared with Megan.
There were no words to adequately describe the way she made me feel with a single look. My stomach twisted, fluttering erupting in the pit of it that made my mouth go dry. I was frozen where I stood, encased in the heat in her eyes, the flush that captured her cheeks. She looked at me the way a man wants to be looked at by a woman. Like nothing else in the world mattered. Like she was mine and mine alone.
Her lips parted, and she formed my name. Longing ravaged my body. This instant connection, this need...Megan Scott would be my salvation. Proof that I could change. That I could love. And before I could make my way to her, solidify the moment, it was gone.
She looked back at her class, then at me. All color was drained from her face.
Principal Patterson tried to get the kids settled down, but it wasn’t until Megan gave them a stern look that the room went quiet. Megan shuffled towards the door.
“Miss Scott,” Patterson cleared his throat with a rumbling that sounded painful and not remotely subtle. “I had hoped your kids would have been prepared for their special guest.”
“Special...” Megan’s voice trailed off, then she looked in my direction. Not at me. At my feet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Patterson. I wasn’t aware that it would be him.”
She said the word ‘him’ like it was toxic, the taste of it poisonous. Missy chuckled in front of me. Vindicated. Jealous? I shouldn’t have flirted with her. It gave her some warped sense of entitlement.
I jerked out my hand toward Megan. “Miss Scott.”
She painfully dredged her eyes to meet mine. Any moment we had shared was a distant memory. If Patterson wasn’t there, watching her every movement, she might have dropped some choice words.
She shook my hand as lightly as possible. “Mr. Wallace.”
Patterson picked up on the tension between us. “You two have met?”
“At a premiere,” I explained, smiling as I remembered how...abrupt Megan had been. I stole a look at Megan, and she returned it with a stony glare.
“Yeah, I believe you were pursuing my friend,” she said acidly. She turned her back to me, addressing her boss. “I know the drill. You need some pictures of him signing some stuff for a couple of kids?”
“Yes—”
“No,” I corrected defensively. Missy stepped up beside me, clearing her throat pointedly. That was how things were supposed to go. In and out.
I ripped up the script, walking past them and their surprised looks. I turned toward the sea of young, hopeful whispers.
“Who wants to hear a story?”
Chapter Six
Megan
I was sick of Cade Wallace’s face.
I couldn’t escape the perfect olive colored eyes, the perfect cut of his cheekbones, or his perfect mouth. I wasn’t sure if I preferred the dirt smudged face that was currently kicking ass in the Afghanistan desert on the big screen, or the clean shaven one a few feet away that kept stealing glances in my direction.
I shifted in my seat, swallowing the fist sized knot in my throat. He wasn’t staring at me. Not really. He was staring at Leila, trying to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. No way was he squaring those devastatingly green eyes on me. Not after I’d been nothing but rude from the moment we met...right?
My eyes were locked on the screen, but the hairs at the back of my neck stood at attention. I felt his gaze on me as surely as I was breathing, if you could call what I was doing breathing. It was more like small gasp-like puffs, magnified by the heart that raced in my chest.
I slowly inched my eyes from the screen until they paused on him. His gaze was elsewhere, and I sighed with relief. If he’d been looking at me at that exact moment, my body might have betrayed the thoughts in my head. I wouldn’t have been able to hide how it really felt to be around him. To fall under the spell of him. To be desired.
And then he looked at me.
Even in the nearly dark theater, I saw the way his tongue swept his bottom lip as his mouth curved into a smile. The things I wanted to do to his mouth...I craved his taste. His lips on my lips.
Leila shifted in her seat behind me and shame rushed in to replace desire. I bit down on my bottom lip in horror, squeezing my eyes shut. What the hell was I doing? I wasn’t some hormonal teenager. I was in control of my body.
The tingling between my thighs begged to differ.
I told Leila I’d be right back and fled toward the exit. I just needed to breathe air. Air that he wasn’t breathing. Splash some water on my face and shock myself out of this.
I pushed into the bathroom, flashed a bleary eyed smile at the attendant, then made a beeline for the sink. After I washed my hands and wiped my face with a damp towel, I looked at the mirror. I clucked disapprovingly at my reflection.
“He’s just a guy.”
And I knew just what kind of guy he was. The kind I was drawn to like a moth to a flame. The worst kind of guy.
I left the bathroom, walking a little taller. The electricity was shut off, and a mask of disdain covered my features.
“Megan?”
Cade saying my name made my heart lurch to my throat. I struggled to put up my defenses in time, but I was no match for the genuine concern I saw on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked. His voice was too soft to be real. Too caring.
“Why?” I said coolly, gripping my clutch tight. “You swooping in to save the day?”
He tilted his head to the side, a strange look on his handsome face. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Why do you care?” I made a grand gesture around us. “All this is for you. And just about any girl would throw herself at your feet. You’re wanted. Why do you need to be liked by me?”
His eyes washed over me, fanning the heat inside that I couldn’t ignore.
“Because somehow, even though we just met, you know me better than anyone, Megan.”
I stood off to the side, watching Cade as he ran a hand over his cropped, golden hair. He was telling my kids a riveting story from filming, when their crew lost touch with the home base and had to navigate their way through the desert.
I bit my lip, trying to shock my system when a smile threatened to spill onto my lips. I had to ignore how good he was with them. How he seemed genuinely offended at the notion of signing a few autographs and being on his way. I couldn’t fall under his spell, because I had a story too. The same old story. Girl meets boy that has ‘Heartbreaker’ tattooed on his forehead. Girl ignores warning signs and falls for said boy. Girl gets her heart broken.
Well, not this time. I breezed to my desk, shaking my head at Principal Patterson, gazing at Cade with stars in his eyes. My eyes swept to the other visitors. A cameraman that was clicking away. A frigid looking woman whose eyes were on her phone, clearly wishing she was anywhere but here, and a younger woman at her hip who was biting her nails to the bone. A third woman with multicolored hair seemed out of place. She wore a charcoal gray v-neck and wet look leggings with Chucks and was grinning off to the side, listening to the story. Her smile wavered when she realized she was being watched, and tossed her b
lue eyes over her shoulder.
I frowned. There was something very familiar about her.
She tiptoed over, holding out a hand. “I think we met at the Soldier’s Creed premiere. I’m Cade’s assistant, Lisa.”
I shook her hand, remembering. I’d fawned over her kimono style little black dress, and had been impressed that she was the only one not kissing Cade’s ass the whole night. “Megan.”
We both watched him. It was hard to take your eyes off Cade. He was magnetic.
“I had no idea he was so good with kids,” she said with a chuckle.
“He’s a man of many talents,” I said with a sarcastic edge that made her raise an eyebrow. If I was trying to prove just how over Cade Wallace I really was, I was doing a bang-up job. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She raked a hand through her pink tinged hair. “I take it you’re not a member of the Cade Wallace fan club?”
“Afraid not,” I said without missing a beat. “I’ve heard enough stories about Cade’s...tenacity to know that I need to steer clear.”
“Probably a good idea,” Lisa said softly.
Her words made me double take. I’d expected her to tell me that he wasn’t that bad. That underneath the muscles and overconfidence, there was a heart of gold.
She smirked at my reaction, her eyes twinkling. “What? Did you think I was a member of the Cade Wallace fan club?” She leaned against my desk, her smile faltering. “Who am I kidding? I’m the goddamn president.” She slapped her hand against her mouth, blushing hard. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I assured her with a chuckle. “My kids say more colorful things than that before lunch.”
Lisa crossed her ankles, twisting her mouth to the side pensively. “I know you think you have Cade pegged—”
“More or less,” I cut in, following his athletic outline with my eyes before I snatched my gaze away. I counted it out on my fingers. “Hot. Cocky as all get out. Always surrounded by pretty faces. Enjoys the sound of his own voice. Incapable of being tied down because he’s been told he was a special snowflake one too many times.”
She glanced over at me, her face solemn. “How many?” When I frowned, she explained. “How many guys have you dated like that?”
