Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Me: That’s strike one.
The second time she doesn’t text me, I’m not so calm. In fact, I’m pissed.
Me: Strike two.
Both of my texts go unread and unanswered. She’s purposely ignoring me, and I don’t fucking like it. I catch a glimpse of her walking to her third and final class of the day, and she pretends to not see me. I know every inch of her body, and I could see the way it changed when she knew I was there. She was well aware of my presence, and she chose not to look at me.
Me: Strike three.
My brain is screaming at me to stop, but I’m already walking across the parking lot. I won’t be denied, not ever again. This is all her fault, and now she’s the one pushing me over the edge.
When I walk into the building, I know exactly where I’m going. This used to be my high school, and the layout hasn’t changed. I also know her schedule and what classroom she’s in right now. It’s not hard for me to grab the open door before it closes and slip inside undetected.
The bell rings and the halls empty, but I don’t care. I’m on a mission, and even though I know somewhere in the back of my mind this is fucked up, I can’t stop myself.
Her teacher is already talking to the class when I get there, so I knock on the door. When she looks at me, it takes her a second, but then recognition dawns on her. She beams at me as she walks to the door and opens it.
“Nash Rhodes, what are you doing at my door? I know you’re not here to tell me you forgot your homework.” Mrs. Foster is one of the nicest teachers here and remembers every student by their first and last name.
“Well, I was talking to the guidance counselor about using high school students for my new intern program. But I couldn’t leave without seeing my favorite teacher.”
“Oh, don’t you try to charm an old lady. I’m too close to retirement to get into trouble now.” She winks at me, and it makes me laugh. She’s been an old lady since she started working here a million years ago.
“Actually, I needed to talk to my sister for a second. If you don’t mind?” I give her my best flirty half-grin, and that’s all it takes.
“Of course, I’ll send her out. Don’t take too long, we’ve got a pop quiz on Hemingway. But you didn’t hear that from me.” She pats me on the cheek before she goes into the classroom and calls out Goldie’s name.
A second later, she appears before me with an expression full of fear. Good. She should be very afraid right about now.
“Come with me,” I say through clenched teeth as I grab her upper arm and march her down the hall.
“What are you doing?” she hisses as I pull open the door to the media room.
This is where the students work on the school paper and yearbook. They do other projects here too, but they are all after school. I know this room stays empty during classes and we won’t be interrupted.
“Why the fuck haven’t you messaged me?” Before she can open her mouth, I back her against the door and brace my hands on either side of her body. “And don’t you dare lie to me. I know you saw me in the parking lot and ignored me standing there. You’re being a brat, Goldie, and I’m not above yanking you out of class to punish you for it.”
“You’re stalking me.” She raises her chin up stubbornly, but she’s not mad. I see her fingers tremble as she plays with the edge of her skirt.
Is she turned on?
I lock eyes with her as I move in closer. “So you figured out I was watching your phone?”
“Josie did.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but actually it is. Josie must be pretty good with tech to unlock the cloning device I put on there. “She also hacked into your phone, and I saw all the pictures you had of me.”
Oh. Now her trembling fingers make sense. “She showed you what I had on my phone?” Goldie nods and looks up at me through her lashes.
“There were so many.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Why do you think I have all those pictures of you?” I bring a hand to her hip and dig my fingers into the softness there.
“I don’t know.” She says it too quickly.
“You’re a big girl, Goldie.” My hand moves lower to the edge of her skirt. When I reach under it, her breath catches in her throat. “I’m sure you can guess.”
“You, um...” She hesitates, but then my fingers brush over the cotton of her panties, and I feel the damp spot.