Page 10 of Unbidden

Out of all my classes, this is the one I dreaded the most.

Finishing class.

What the hell is finishing class, anyway? I figured it was some stupid rich kid class that kids blew off. Had I bet on it, I would have been wrong. Turns out finishing class is another term for etiquette lessons.

“Today’s lesson is conversation etiquette: what is appropriate to talk about with business partners, dates, friends, or family,” the teacher, Mrs. Bonavich, drones on.

My thoughts stray as she continues to talk. Who needs to be taught what they should or shouldn’t talk about? Rich people, apparently. I wonder if Alice put me in this class because she thinks I don’t have any common sense. I make a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Yates. Take this as a lesson, ladies and gentlemen. Good etiquette means being on time. Take a seat,” Mrs. Bonavich states, pulling me from my thoughts.

I expect to look up and recognize the same Yates from class this morning. Instead, the pair of green eyes glaring at me belongs to the guy who was receiving a blow job behind the tree. He walks forward until he’s standing in front of my desk and stops, glaring at me while I stare back.

After a moment, I speak up. “Can I help you?” My tone is snarky.

“You’re in my seat. Move.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. There’s one right there.” I point to the desk to my right.

I’m well aware that we now have the entire class’s attention. Even Mrs. Bonavich doesn’t speak. I can feel the tension pouring off Mr. Yates standing in front of me.

I wonder which one he is, Reed or Keaton.

I mentally shake my head. I don’t care which one he is. What Idocare about is the look he’s giving me.

“I won’t ask again,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Great. My answer won’t change.”

I look back to my notebook and begin to doodle. Next thing I know, he grabs my arm, hauling me up and out of the seat before letting me go and dropping into the seat himself. Then he throws my notebook and pen on the ground.

My fists clench as fire fills my veins. I lean over right into his face. When his eyes meet mine, I lower my voice. “If you ever lay your hands on me again, I will make sure you never have children. I’m not scared of you. I refuse to let you treat me the way I’m sure you treat everyone else.”

I start to move back, but he snags my arm. “You should be scared of me. I don’t take kindly to threats. You should watch your back.”

With that, he lets me go. I go to respond, but Mrs. Bonavich interrupts.

“Enough. Ms. Miller, take your seat. This is a classroom, not your personal playground.”

I turn my glare on her. She’s acting as if I’m the one who started this. Instead of making even more of a scene, I shoot one last glare at the pompous prick and take the empty seat right next to his.

“Great. Now, where was I?” she rattles on while I sit there seething.

I can feel his eyes on me, but they aren’t the only ones. A girl sitting a couple seats ahead of his also keeps turning to shoot daggers at me. I don’t even know this chick, but by the look of her, I’m guessing she’s either the girlfriend or a groupie. Long blonde hair, a fake nose you can spot a mile away, and the fancy handbag on her desk screams wealth. I could easily see her on his arm. Then I remember the girl from this morning. She isn’t the same one. That girl had short brown hair. If this is his girlfriend, then she’s an idiot.

While I’m still musing over what else on her might be fake, she stands up and starts walking our way. I snap my attention back to the teacher and find her talking to a pair of students at the front. Blondie stops in front of Yates’s desk and props her hip against it.

“Reed,” she purrs, “will you be my partner?”

“No.” His voice is cold.

“Reed.” Her purr turns into a whine.

“Get lost, Ingram.”

He turns to me, then grabs my desk and pulls it to his.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I spit at him.

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