Page 92 of The Teacher of Nothing
This is what happiness feels like.
Trapped in Callum Park’s arms, locked in his possessive stare, and spoiled with tender kisses.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
Callum
Cold rain assaults me as I run from the building toward my car, splashing through puddles, no doubt ruining my leather Dulce & Gabbana calfskin dress shoes. Nothing can ruin my mood, though. Not even destroying an eight-hundred-dollar pair of shoes.
Why?
Because I have my girl back.
Fuck.
I did not come to school today expecting to reconcile things between us. That was the last thing on my mind. Seeing her, though, broken and fading away was too much to bear. The past two weeks have been all for nothing.
She didn’t betray me.
Guilt slides around my throat and constricts, choking me. I fucked up because I let my emotional baggage get in the way. What could have been a conversation, where I let her explain, could have meant we could have been happy. I let what Jamie had done to me infect what I had with Willa. It wasn’t fair to either of us.
By the time I reach my car, I’m soaked to the bone. I hit the button on my fob and am stopped dead in my tracks when someone pops up from behind an SUV. The other man—or student in this case—is also drenched. His hoodie is pulled up over his head, but I’d recognize that piece of shit face anywhere.
Levi fucking Paulson.
“Mr. Paulson,” I bite out in an icy tone. “May I help you?”
He lifts his chin, sneering at me. “Stay the fuck away from Willa.”
A burst of fiery wrath surges up inside me, chasing away the chill of the rain. “Watch how you speak to me, kid. We’re on school grounds. I can have you expelled for threatening a teacher.”
He laughs, cruel and callous. “Nah, Park, I think you’ll let me slide this time.”
“Doubtful.” I prowl toward him, fisting my hands at my sides to keep from smacking the shit out of him. “Go home, asshole.”
“Willa is mine,” Levi snaps. “Not yours. Fucking mine.”
I want to challenge him on this, but that would mean owning up to the fact I’m fucking a student. This prick will only use that information to try to destroy me. I’m well aware I need to tread lightly.
“She’s your sister. Don’t be disgusting.”
His nostrils flare and violence gleams in his eyes. “She’s not my real sister.”
“Go home,” I grit out. “I’m done with this conversation.”
He pokes my chest. “This conversation is over when I say it’s over.”
I’ve had enough of this fuck face. Rolling my head over my shoulders, I crack my neck in hopes to calm the building rage that’s settling in my bones.
“You’re going to want to hear this,” he says in a smug voice. “And then you’re going to do exactly as I say.”
The rain continues to beat down on us. As much as I want to shove past him, I don’t. His calculating stare tells me he’s up to something. Considering Willa lives in his house, and it’s my duty to protect her from this piece of shit, I stay rooted in place, ready to hear him out.
For Willa.
I tense when he pulls something out of his hoodie pocket, half expecting it to be a weapon. It’s not a knife or a gun. It’s his phone. He swipes it and then taps the screen. As soon as the sweet familiar sounds pierce the air, bile creeps up my throat.
Willa.
