Page 12 of The Teacher of Nothing
I wonder if we’ll ever get an opportunity like it again.
“Dad!”
The room that had felt deliciously warm a second ago drops to a chilly temperature. I force my stare down to my lap and pick at my nails. It feels like I’m in trouble, but I didn’t do anything. And now Darren is here, dragged from whatever scummy thing he was doing before he was called to deal with us.
Mr. Erickson lays it all out, explaining to Darren the entire story. Blood rushes in my ears and I miss most of what’s being said. My only hope is that Mr. Park speaks up on my behalf if need be.
“Miss Reyes.”
Mr. Park’s deep voice hooks into me, tugging me from the darkness I’d settled into. I skate my eyes over to him and take in the way he motions for the door.
He wants me to leave.
No problem.
I shakily stand and grab my bag. Levi’s legs are stretched out, blocking the path. I make the mistake of looking at him. His blue eyes burn with hatred for me—a hatred I’ve yet to understand.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, tearing my eyes from his to look at his feet.
He doesn’t move them.
Smack!
“Ow, fuuu—dge. Dad, what the hell?” Levi’s feet jerk back and he rubs at his arm.
“Are you okay, cupcake?” Darren asks, voice dripping with faux concern.
I jerk my head up, looking at him in confusion. Is he talking to me? Cupcake? Since when?
“She’s fine,” Mr. Park assures him, an unidentifiable edge in his tone. “Miss Reyes, I need assistance making copies for an assignment tomorrow. Can you help and I’ll return you to your stepfather once they’re done here?”
Darren’s eyes are burning holes into me. I sense that he doesn’t want me to go, but it’s not exactly like I have options right now. Besides, I’d rather escape with Mr. Park than spend another second in this office, suffocating in his stifling presence.
“Yes, sir,” I say, avoiding Darren’s attention. “Happy to help.”
I rush past Mr. Park, unsure where to go, just knowing I need to escape. Mr. Park catches up to me and gently grips my arm, guiding me out of the front office and into the hallway. He doesn’t let go but instead tightens his hold. The action doesn’t hurt. It feels possessive. As though he’s laying claim to me. This sends a wild thrill down my spine.
“In here,” Mr. Park murmurs, pushing through a door markedStaff Only. “Copy room.”
Theroomis nothing more than a closet. A giant copy machine sits along the wall and the other two walls are floor-to-ceiling shelves covered with reams of paper and other supplies. There’s space for both of us, but adding a third person would be a tight squeeze.
He pushes the door closed behind me, leaving his palm on the door, caging me in. My heart rate kicks up at his proximity.
“Do you really need help?” I ask, my voice breathless and faraway.
Amusement briefly dances across his features, lighting up his eyes and making the corners of his mouth twitch like he might smile. “I’m quite capable of making copies myself. You, on the other hand, needed a breather.”
I note that he doesn’t drop his hand. If anything, it feels as though he’s leaning closer into me. He’s so near I can smell his cologne—a hint of spice and maybe apples. Whatever it is, it reminds me a little of Christmas. That makes my heart swell.
“You’re smiling,” he murmurs. “I was just sure I was going to be met with tears.”
I grin, chancing a look up at him through my lashes. “I’m stronger than I look.”
Too bad I don’t believe those words. I want him to, though. I want this man to see me as someone who could be his equal. Someone he would want to take to bed with him. I want to be seen as a woman, not some helpless girl.
“You shouldn’t have to be.” He lifts a hand like he might touch my face. I hold my breath, praying he does, and then exhale a disappointed sigh when he fists his hand and drops it back down. “Your family is supposed to look out for you.”
“We’re not exactly close.” I hate that the conversation has moved from our almost playful banter to his concern for my familial relationships. “Darren didn’t like that my mom came withbaggage.”
