Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(8)

“Do you see how red her face is?” whispered a girl in the front row. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but I was pretty sure I would’ve been able to make out every word of the “whisper” from the parking lot.

The boy beside her smiled cruelly. “Maybe she’s PMSing.”

The girl frowned at him and slapped his arm. “That’s not how it works, you idiot.”

“What do you mean? There’s all the blood issues. Some of it must end up in their heads.”

The girl rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and gave up on him.

I cleared my throat. “I’m Miss Summerland.” I paused, swallowed, and willed my windpipe to grow a little bigger. “This is—”

The bell signaling the start of first period rang deafeningly, cutting me off and making me realize I was already showing what a rookie I was.

I cleared my throat again. “This is—”

The announcements began, instructing the students to stand for the Pledge and the anthem.

I turned my back to face the flag and pretended I didn’t hear the snickering students behind me. I also pretended I didn’t remember being a high schooler not so long ago, and how quickly I would’ve decided a teacher like me was the kind students were going to eat for breakfast.

A few minutes later, the announcements ended, and I finally turned to face the students again.

“Okay. This is—”

The door to my room opened. I spun, hands balled into fists. All the frustration of the last few minutes boiled over into an embarrassingly squeaky outburst. “I would love to finish my sentence!”

And that was when I saw my visitor.

Richard King.

Distantly, I heard the excited whispers of every girl in my classroom.

“Is that him?”

“Oh my God, is my hair okay?”

“This is going on my Snapchat!”

Their voices faded into background noise as I looked at him in person for the first time in so many years.

“Please,” he said. His voice was so deep and rich I could feel it rumble through my chest. “Finish your sentence. I’ll wait.”

He knew damn well there was no way I could think about anything else with him standing there. The corner of his mouth had twitched up into the suggestion of a smirk, and his eyes were locked predatorily on me. He knew exactly what was happening to me, and he was enjoying it.

I tried to picture a normal human being in his place. I tried and failed to unsee the broad, powerful shoulders and long legs, to unmake every cruel and perfect line of his face, from the sharp jaw to the dark eyebrows and burning green eyes. His nearly black hair was cut short and neat. He wore a suit that would’ve made most men look overdressed, but he seemed perfectly at ease. Here I was with my legs spread out like I was trying not to step in a puddle, pretending I was in control. Meanwhile, Rich’s pinkie toe projected more confidence than my entire body.

I wanted him and his obnoxiously cocky pinkie toe out of my classroom and out of my life. I was perfectly happy seeing him in a dirty dream every few weeks, where he couldn’t screw up my reality any more, thank you very much.

“Out,” I said.

“That was the end of your sentence? ‘This is . . . out’?”

The students acted like his sitcom laugh track, and I already wanted to give them all detentions for being traitors.

I turned, annoyed, and gestured to my students. “This is English Four Honors.” I looked back at Richard. “Out.”

“I’ll go out in the hallway, but you’re coming too.”

I gritted my teeth, wishing I could throw something at him without looking like a psychopath. I’d rehearsed what I would say to Richard a thousand times in the shower, but I should have known the mere sight of him would make me feel as powerless as I had seven years ago. If that wasn’t bad enough, he’d managed to undermine me in front of my students on their first day in my room.

I settled for stomping out into the hallway and throwing a warning look at my class. Some of the students stopped grinning, and others even shrank into their seats.

The door closed behind me, and I was suddenly alone with him. “This is so like you,” I said. “You show up after seven years and think the world revolves around you, so why should you even consider waiting until my first day of teaching is over? Why would it even occur to you that calling in favors and smooth talking your way past protocol would be ridiculous and unnecessary? God forbid the great Richard King has to wait a few hours to get what he wants.”

He waited patiently for me to finish, and he even paused a few seconds, as if giving me a chance to add any final thoughts if I wanted.

“I still prefer to go by Rich,” he said.

I could have punched him. “And I would’ve preferred not to have my first day of my new job interrupted by you.”

“I came to say I was sorry. I thought you’d want to hear that.”

I shook my head. Every passing second made me feel less starstruck and more aware of how much I hated the man. Yes, in biological terms, my ovaries and my vagina were having a sidebar about how nice his genes would look all tangled up with mine, but I was perfectly capable of focusing on the obvious: Rich was an entitled asshole, and I needed to say whatever it took to get him out of my life. “Congratulations. That’s the most self-serving, insincere apology I’ve ever heard.”