Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I’ve barely taken a seat when the door to the office slams wide open. “Simon,” I gasp, pressing my hand to my chest.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. Is something wrong?”
“No, I just forgot to ask how your first day was.” He gives me an off-kilter smile that I’ve seen him toss to his mom or sister when he’s trying to get his way. I’m trying to not melt in my seat.
The brain cells in my head team up and finally work together to respond with a simple, “It was nice.” He stares at me like he’s hoping for more, so I continue. “A little confusing, but I think I can get it.”
“Well, you’re pretty smart. I’m sure you’ll grasp everything quickly.” He runs his hands through his thick, mussed-up hair. “How often are you going to be here?” I’m not sure if he’s anxious for me to go or if he wants me here, so I reassure him. “Your dad said pretty much every day after school, but don’t worry. I won’t harass you.”
He closes the distance between us, dragging me out of my seat so that we’re standing dangerously close. “Vivian, you’re not harassing me. I want to see you.”
I shake my head because I don’t believe it. At least, not entirely. I turn my head to gaze out toward the loading bay. He doesn’t care for it, and he grasps my chin with his strong, rough hand, turning my face to look into his. “I know I’ve been a jerk over the years, but it’s complicated.”
“Is it because I’m too young for you?” He might not remember our conversation, but I do.
“For now.”
I nod, and then confess. “I know.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing we’ve already had this conversation.”
I gently stepped away, moving toward the sofa, taking a seat. “Yeah.”
“That I can’t remember, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s why you’re mad at me?” he asks. His eyes were so soft and gentle as he wonders, and I don’t know how to explain that I’m not quite mad, and at the same time I am.
“It’s complicated.”
His phone goes off. “Damn it.” He pulls it out of his extremely tight jean back pocket. “Excuse me. My teacher is calling me.”
He raises a finger, telling me to hold on a moment. “Hello, Professor Smith. Yes, yes, I’ll be down there in just one moment.” He leaves the office, forgetting to close the door behind him.
I stand up to close the door, but then my attention is immediately drawn to his gait. He has a limp, and it looks worse than it did this morning, but he tries to ignore the pain. I wonder if his parents know how bad it is. I watch him walk to the front where a woman in a tight pencil skirt with a sleeveless pale pink blouse that clings to her chest enters and smiles at him politely. She looks elegant and mostly professional, except for the obvious overly full set of makeup she has on in this brutal heat and the fact that she’s one of his teachers. A deep-seated sense of discomfort washes over me. Is it a general jealousy of a pretty woman, or gut instinct? Then, her eyes roam over him, and not because he’s recovering. No—she has that hungry look that I had this morning. It’s clear she admires his figure, like all women notice a hot man in just a sleeveless shirt.
“Simon,” she says his name in a coquettish way. I almost expect her to twist a strand of her hair around her fingers. She hands him a file folder, pressing her hand on his arm a little too friendly for my liking.
I can’t handle it. He doesn’t like men near me, and he gets growly. After what happened in Vail, I am about to put my foot down. I don’t care if he doesn’t remember it. I do. Before I can open the door all the way and go down the steps, they are interrupted by his mother. The flirty teacher quickly makes her exit.
And then Mrs. West drags him over to his station a little further before saying something that sounds like what the hell or who the hell, but I can’t make it out. Mr. West comes into the garage area, and then Simon looks up at the office, catching me staring. He slams his hand down on his workstation, and I can see his mouth move to make out the words, son of a bitch. Is something going on between him and his teacher? Or was she just another woman interested in him?
I close the door and get back to work. It’s not my business, and I have to remember that I work here and regardless of what is going on, Simon and I aren’t together. At this point, we may never be. He can do whatever he pleases.