I pick up my fork again and shovel more stir-fry into my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. I don’t know what to say. Truthfully, I don’t know if there really is an issue. I’m probably way overthinking all of this, but I also want to hear Willow’s thoughts on the situation.
I glance over at her. “Do you remember the girl I told you about? The one I saw while you were up murdering everyone’s ears during karaoke night at the bar?”
She nibbles on her lip, clearly searching her memory for the right outing. “Wait, which night was that?”
“The night of your drunken rendition of ‘Copacabana.’ At the bar we like in Newberry.”
After being assigned to my student teaching placement, we’d driven twenty minutes to the neighboring town to check out exactly where the high school is located. After we’d finished scoping out the school, we stopped in at a bar we frequent—it’s way better than the shady biker bar in our town. When we’d discovered that they had a brand-new karaoke machine, Willow insisted on staying. She’d been pretty damn tipsy by the time we left, so I’m not sure if she’ll remember the evening I’m referring to.
“Oh. That night.” She snorts loudly. “Okay, I’m with you. You locked eyes with some girl. You said she had pretty, wavy hair—long and dark. And you said something rather dramatic about how you felt trapped by her eyes, like she was some sort of siren tempting you with her beauty. Then on the way home that night, you geeked out over all things Greek mythology.” She toys with her fork, and I can practically see her working through that evening in her mind. “I didn’t pay much attention to that stuff, but I do remember you said she was ‘hot as fuck.’”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“Look, I wasn’t completely drunk. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we agreed that the fact you noticed her was a good thing. She made an impression on you, which is a pretty big step forward, even if nothing comes of it.”
“Wait, what?” I can feel my brow furrow in confusion, and if I’m being honest, a little bit of indignation.
She stabs her fork toward me. “Oh.” She pauses with a slight frown. “Maybe I just thought that in my head.” She waves her hand. “No matter. The thought process was this: you were finally using your eyes—and maybe even other parts—and were actually attracted to another woman.” She winks. “I was so glad because, I swear, I thought Tara broke you. So, what’s the deal? I still don’t get why you’re acting all weird about it now. It’s been weeks since you saw her.”
I go back to eating for a minute while Willow stares a hole in the side of my head. I finally realize if I trust anyone with this information, it’s my best friend. I mumble, “It’s her.”
“Who is ‘her,’ Sawyer?” She groans loudly. “Out with it. You’re making me crazy.”
I stop what I’m doing to set my fork on my plate again and push the plate away. I just raise my brows and press my lips together, waiting. “The hot-as-fuck woman from the bar is my mentor for my student teaching placement for the next eight weeks.”
She looks so shocked I could swear her eyebrows are touching her hairline, and her mouth forms an O that gets smaller the longer her gaze remains on mine. “Oh. That is kind of bad.”
With a quick shake of my head, I stand up, gathering our empty dinner dishes. “Told you I was in trouble. That’s why I’ve been out of sorts.”
“Sawyer,” Willow heaves out an exasperated breath. “It’ll be fine. You’re probably making a bigger deal of it than it has to be. You don’t even know her. All you know so far is that you like what you see. Odds are good that you are getting yourself all worked up over nothing. It’s not like she’s really a siren.” She chuckles and snorts a little before she shoves my arm and stands to help me take the dishes to the sink.
I sure as hell hope Willow’s right. From the way thoughts of Hadleigh have infiltrated my mind and affected my body the last few days, I’m still fairly worried. I’ll be lucky if I’m not sporting a semi for the next eight weeks whenever I’m near her. “The only way I’m getting through this student teaching placement without making a fool of myself is to try not to look at her in that way.”
“Maybe. Did she mention if she saw you there that night? Did you talk about it?”
“No. And it’s probably for the best. Maybe she doesn’t remember me at all.” I draw myself up with a nod, blowing out a breath meant to reassure myself. “Okay. I’m just going to forget I ever saw her that night and learn what I can from her. I can do this.”
“Yep. You sure can.” Willow looks away, but I see her smirk as she does.
Great. I’m not even fooling my best friend with that. How the hell am I supposed to stop thinking about Hadleigh like I have been? How do I just pull the plug on something like this?
Chapter 7
Sawyer
Man, I’d thought after a good night’s sleep I would wake up and all would be well, but I’m so screwed. I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t sleep well last night, and it shows in my piss-poor attitude. I’m grumpy when I get out of bed, knowing today will test me in more ways than one. I’m irritable as I brush my teeth and can’t help imagining what it would be like to put my lips on Hadleigh’s. And I’m especially surly in the shower as I stroke myself with a firm hand and try not to think of Hadleigh’s sweet curves when I come—hard—to thoughts of the woman I barely know, who happens to be my mentor.
Fuck me. I have to stop treating my body like an amusement park while thinking about her.
While getting ready, I spend the majority of my time chastising myself for every horny thought that enters my head. I have no idea how I’m going to handle seeing her again this morning. I’ve gotten everything all twisted up in my head, and I think I’m on the verge of exploding.
This is so fucking stupid. I don’t even know her. I pick up my backpack from where it lays at the foot of the bed and sling it over my shoulder, trying to shake myself free of my ridiculous ruminations. Time to focus on my purpose for being at the school—to learn how to be a teacher.
Willow’s in the kitchen busy doing her thing—aka burning toast—when I enter. I drop my backpack on the island. “What the hell, Willow? I keep telling you—the setting you want is two. You don’t like your toast charred.”
She peers at me. “Well, you’re a cheery fuck this morning, aren’t you?”
I set about making fresh toast for her as a small chuckle works its way out of me. “Yeah. Even after our talk last night, I still didn’t sleep well. I’ve only got time for scrambled eggs this morning. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
A few minutes later, we sit down together to eat. I glance at my phone, seeing I have about ten minutes before I need to get out the door. “You aren’t going to say anything else?”
“Nope. You’re going to be fine, Sawyer. Focus on learning from her instead of what she’s wearing or what’s under her clothes or her kissable lips, and I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” She clamps her lips together and keeps her eyes trained on her food. I can tell she’s about two seconds from laughing.
I side-eye her with an amused shake of my head. “Thanks, Willow. Thanks for that.”
She’s just taken a sip of her coffee, and she ends up dribbling part of it down her chin as she laughs. “Sorry. You need to relax sometimes. Poke a little fun at yourself. You’ll feel better and probably realize you’re overreacting.”
I huff out a breath as I head into the kitchen, drop my plate and fork into the sink, and gather my things. “I hope you’re right.”
When I arrive at the school, I’m sincerely glad it’s Friday and I don’t have to make it through an entire week before I get a break. I’m asked to check in via the computer at the counter. The secretary hands me a temporary badge to wear on a lanyard as she says, “They like for student teachers to have identification, too, just in case someone mistook you for a student—although I don’t think there’s any cause for concern there.” She smiles at me reassuringly. “Yo
u can go on down to the history and English workroom. Ms. Beckett showed you where that was, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I take off, exiting the main office and heading down the hallway. There are only a handful of students walking around right now, but I’m sure there will be more here soon enough—whether I’m ready for them or not.
As I get to the workroom, I take a deep breath and force myself to blow it all out. Repeat. I give a quick knock to the door before easing it open.
The only one in the room is Piper, the English teacher Hadleigh had introduced me to during my initial visit. “Oh, hey. I was looking for Hadleigh.”
She smiles. “I think she ran to her classroom. She should be back in just a sec. Feel free to tuck anything in the fridge over there, and make yourself at home. I’m actually on my way to my room now. I’ll duck into her room and let her know that you’re here.”
“I’d appreciate it. Thank you.” I clear my throat, as it sounds extra rough. “It’s Piper, right?”
“Yep. Piper Mathison. I hope you have a great first day.”
“Thanks again.”
She picks up a stack of folders, holds them against her chest and hurries out of the room.
Left alone, I turn in a circle, looking around again. It’s funny, but I feel kind of like I belong here, like I fit into this teacher role pretty well. With a glance at Hadleigh’s desk, I realize they brought in a desk for me, too—only it’s a student desk, with a chair so small my knees will probably be up next to my ears. With a quick bark of laughter, I set my things down on it and unzip my bag. Humming to myself, I put my lunch in the fridge like Piper suggested. Just as I close the door, I sense someone behind me.
“Hey, Sawyer. Piper told me you just got here.”
The sight of my stunning mentor is enough to make my lungs forget how to function for a full count of three. Finally, I manage to pull in a breath. “Yep, I just got my lunch put away and was going to come find you. Am I okay to leave my stuff on the desk there?” I point at the tiny desk next to her larger one.
She covers her mouth when she lets out a small laugh. “I’d intended for you to take my desk when they brought in the student one. The thought of you sitting at that little desk made me laugh.” She surreptitiously looks me up and down.
Despite how sly she thinks she is, I totally notice her checking me out. And even though I know it shouldn’t feel good, it does. It totally does. “Oh, I don’t mind. Whatever works for you.”
She grins at me, and I can’t help but notice how perfect her bow-shaped lips are. They are stained a deep pink color from whatever lipstick she’s slicked over them and match her sweater perfectly. “You can use mine, it’s fine.” She holds up a finger. “They did manage to find a full-sized desk for you for the classroom, so at least there’s that. Come on, I’ll show you.” She spins around, waving a hand over her shoulder for me to follow, leading me out.
“Like I said, no worries at all.” My only real concern now is that I can’t seem to control my gaze as it takes a slow tour of the curves of her tiny waist, over her pert ass, and down her legs. They’re encased in black dress pants and finished off with the same sexy black heels she’d had on the other day.
I blink twice when I realize she’s speaking to me. “Sorry, could you repeat that? I’m a little distracted by the newness of everything.” Or by her fine ass.
“No problem at all. I was just saying I’d like for you to sit at the back of the classroom, at the desk they brought in for you, and just observe for the day. We’ll have time during our lunch break after the first two classes and again during our planning period at the end of the day when I can answer any initial questions you have. Does that sound like it would work?” She studies me, and this time, I’m drawn in by the deep brown of her eyes. Her makeup is understated and tasteful, but in my opinion, she doesn’t need it. She’s an all-natural knock-out.
Realizing I’m still a little lost in the depths of her eyes, I give myself a shake in an attempt to regain my grip on reality—the reality where she’s a teacher and I’m technically her student. “Sure, that works. That would be great, actually. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’m not above passing out or collecting papers or making copies or doing whatever else to help. I’m here to learn, so definitely put me to work.”
A slow smile spreads across her berry-pink lips. “I will certainly do that. I like your willingness to jump right in, Sawyer.”
I nod, pointing toward the door. “I’m just going to grab a notebook and pen from my bag. I’ll be right back.” As I exit the classroom, I notice the volume of traffic in the hallway has picked up substantially. It must not be too much longer until the first classes of the day start. I make a mental note to ask Hadleigh for a bell schedule as I survey the happenings in the hallway. Students aged fourteen all the way up to eighteen do what comes naturally to them—gabbing with their friends, hurrying through last minute homework and, if I’m not mistaken, a whole hell of a lot of flirting.
I’m as interested in studying student interactions as I am in learning from Hadleigh. Knowing your subject area, teaching it well, and handling the students are all very different skill sets. I’ve got the history part down, but I’m feeling a little apprehensive about the other two. We’ll see how it goes, I guess.
Back in the classroom, seats are filling up but most students are milling about, hanging around in small groups and chatting with friends. Hadleigh’s seated at her desk, so I slowly cross the room, aware of a certain hum beginning to fill the classroom. I’m pretty sure all the whispering I hear is conjecture as to who I am and what I’m doing there. I don’t really blame them. I’m someone new and different, disrupting their morning. Or maybe they look at it more as a pleasant diversion from their normal day?
Either way, this is going down. She looks up with a wink as she rises from her seat. The student she was speaking to gives her a quick nod of understanding and heads back to his seat. “Hang out here with me until I can introduce you, okay?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” I fold my arms across my chest, surveying the class as a whole. There are about twenty-five kids settling into their seats. Holy hell. If she teaches six classes and they are all this size, that means she’s responsible for a hundred and fifty kids. She’s had to learn their names, grade their work, assess their learning, and deal with any drama that crops up. “How on earth do you manage this, Had—I mean Ms. Beckett?”
She gives me a reassuring smile. “You just get used to it. You’ll see.”
After a brief introduction—during which I feel like a fish in a fishbowl, all eyes on me—I find myself at the back of the classroom. Hadleigh begins the day’s lesson for this class, which happens to be one of the ones studying World War I. Despite being a little distracted by watching the kids and how they interact with her, I’m also amazed at her comfort level with the subject; the questions she poses to the class are both thought-provoking and interesting. She keeps the class’s attention effortlessly, which I find pretty telling, considering she’s a fairly new teacher. She’s good at what she does, so I don’t think it will matter if I have someone who is fairly new to the profession as a mentor. I really want someone with energy and enthusiasm to show me the ropes.
Hadleigh is amazing at anticipating the students’ questions and needs. She’s witty and smart, and doesn’t get thrown by the occasional oddball question. Careful not to interrupt or change the flow of her lesson, I keep my eyes on my notebook, jotting down anything I want to talk to her about later.
The bell rings just as she mentions a worksheet with some short-answer questions for them to take home. She sees a few kids begin to head for the door without one and raises her voice. “Don’t leave without your homework, please.” The students who were about to exit halt at the door to wait. She picks up the stack of papers from the corner of her desk but is waylaid by a student who has hopped right out of her chair to ask a question. I hurry to the front of the ro
om.
“I’ll hand them out for you.” I extend my hand toward the papers.
“Thank you, Mr. Rivers. That would be helpful.” She hands them to me, and as she does, our fingertips brush. Our gazes meet, and I feel a surge of awareness flow right through her fingers and into mine. I shut my eyes for just a fraction of a second, letting the feeling roll through me before I turn on my heel to stand at the door, passing a hand-out to each kid as they walk out the door.
We have another class before lunch and it goes pretty much the same way, only this is a ninth grade geography class. Aside from some typical fourteen-year-old behavior, I do notice two things in that second class—first, I can’t take my eyes off of the teacher and second, each time her eyes find mine, she seems a little flustered. In fact, the more I watch her, the more ruffled she gets. Is it me? I hope I’m not making her nervous. I should probably keep my head down and just listen, but it’s hard when I know what I’m missing at the front of the classroom.
Chapter 8
Hadleigh
I sink down onto the small chair in the workroom after pulling my lunch from the fridge. Sawyer unpacks his food, setting it out on my desk in front of him. He glances at me. “How much time do we have?”
“Just twenty-five minutes, so go ahead and eat first, and then we can talk after. Lunch always passes in a flash for me, and I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.”
“Sounds good.” He takes a bite of a sandwich, chews carefully, and washes it down with water.
It’s a superhuman feat to wrest my eyes from him, but I finally do. As I take the first bite of my sandwich, I allow myself a few moments to think back on how the first two classes of the day had gone.
The students are officially abuzz about our new student teacher. Can I blame them? Not really. It certainly had made it much more difficult to maintain their attention today. A few of the notoriously boy-crazy girls kept turning in their seats to peek at Sawyer. He hadn’t seemed to mind, but he’d also kept himself busy in the back with his notebook during that first class.
Fight for You (Flirting with Forever Book 2) Page 4