Page 55 of The Rest is History
And the more I act on what we both so clearly want in the short term, the more I screw us both over in the long term.
So, no. I don’t know what to fucking do.
I do the only thing I can, and steer clear. I go for a run at lunch. I take my laptop to the staffroom in my free period to be safe,even though I know she’s teaching. Yes, of course I know her timetable better than I know my own.
But when I’ve dismissed my class for the day, I can’t resist. I do a visual sweep of 10V for any forgotten blazers or discarded sports bags and exit the room. Elodie’s classroom, 10P, is across the hall. There’s a man’s voice booming through the open doorway, and I peer in from a safe distance.
Hugo fucking Crane. Honestly. The guy’s a twat. He’s got to be mid-forties. Hedge fund manager, divorced, absolutely minted, with two boys in the school—both total toolboxes. He sports a year-round tan and a chunk of metal on his wrist courtesy of Patek Philippe, which he will almost certainly be passing down to the next douchebag generation.
And he’s coming onto Elodie. There’s no doubt whatsoever. He’s standing way too close to her. She’s leaning back, her arms crossed over her chest. I’m pretty sure that’s universal code forback the fuck off, but this guy’s choosing not to notice. That’s the problem with a lot of the parents at this school. Too bloody entitled, used to getting everything they want.
I hear the wordPortofino.
For fuck’s sake.
Enough’s enough, mate.
I step into the classroom and cough loudly. The Crane boys are messing around at the back of the room, clearly bored by their dad’s attempts at chatting up their teacher. Elodie’s eyes go wide when she sees me, and I win a little smile from her.
‘Hi, Mr Vaughan!’ Her voice is artificially bright. ‘Do you need me for something?’
I’m so tempted to say yes. Drag her back to the office, lock the door, and put us both out of our misery. God help me, it’s too alluring a thought.
‘Hi, Miss Peach.’ I make my own tone jovial. ‘Actually, I was hoping to run into you, Mr Crane. Troy and Tate are crushing itat cricket this term. I was wondering if I could walk you out and fill you in on their progress?’
‘Er, sure, Mr Vaughan.’
He sighs heavily in my direction. His expression sayscockblocker. I grin broadly.
He turns back to Elodie. ‘Miss Peach. Always a pleasure. I’m in Bermuda next week, but I look forward to catching up soon. Er, maybe we could?—’
‘Let’s go, boys,’ I call firmly before Crane can give me an excuse to introduce his nose to my fist.
As they clatter out of the room in front of me, I shoot Elodie a look over my shoulder. She presses a palm to that blessed bow and mouthsthank you.
I nod at her, my eyes filled with fire. And that’s what it fucking feels like. Putting out fires. Running to stand still. Cockblocking parents who think they have the right to a piece of her.
And still, it feels like stalemate.
Until the next time we’re in costume, anyway, and none of this bullshit exists.
CHAPTER 22
Elodie
Still nothing.
He rescued me from sleazy Mr Crane on Tuesday, obviously. And then there was the blouseand the message.
A message that had my sister screaming, ‘Oh myGod!Marry this guy!’
A message that sprinkled my entire body with goosebumps, becauseGucci? And more importantly,showcase your eyes?
Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. You can’t do things like that to my heart and expect me to survive them.
Then there was the look in his eyes when he saw me in the blouse.
Solemn.
