Still Not Over You(80)

I kneel down beside her and start gathering the papers. “Thanks, Natalie. I certainly can be clumsy sometimes. Must be getting late.”

Must be. Or else I'd totally have to admit I've been drooling over her father for the better part of the last ten minutes.

“We all have accidents,” she says. “Don’t stress.”

I smile, nodding slowly. This girl sounds far too old for her age, which causes me to glance up at her father.

He's raised her to be polite. Kind. Intelligent.

He shrugs when he sees there isn't room to step in and help, walking over to pick up the backpack she's left on the floor.

I take the papers Natalie collects and stack them on top of the pile I've formed. “Thanks for your help again, Natalie. You're too awesome.”

“Ready, sweets?” Brent asks.

“Coming!” Natalie flashes a big grin. “See you next week, Ms. Derby. Can't wait to finish my drawing.”

“Looking forward to it,” I answer, flinching slightly at not being able to come up with something more original.

Brent nods at me while laying a hand on Natalie’s shoulder and guiding her towards the door.

I nod back. I think. I'm too embarrassed to say for sure.

Woof. I'm so ready to slump into my chair before I leave the building.

I need five or ten. Just a few precious minutes to let my body, mind, and pulse find their baseline.

I doubt there's any time. This is the only evening class near closing time. Oscar Winters, the janitor, who doubles as our evening security guard, is already waiting for me to leave so he can lock up and go home.

Sighing, I set the stack of papers on the corner, hoping the regular teacher in this room, Mrs. Wayne's substitute, isn’t overly upset tomorrow morning that they aren’t in the same order. Then I start packing my things in my carry-all. I'm so busy trying to get out of here I don't even see him enter.

“Finally! Why the hell have you been ignoring my calls and texts?”

The voice vibrating in my ears makes me shudder like a spider crawling up my spine. A huge, unwanted, hairy one.

Crap. Not this guy again.

I huff out a breath of air before glancing up. “What are you doing here, Preston?”

All five feet and nine inches of Preston Graves stands just a few feet away like he owns the place. He probably thinks he does.

He’s that arrogant. If you could take a picture of a blind date gone bad, it would look like this man.

Bleached blond hair, blue eyes, and obscenely rich. He’s also the biggest prick I’ve ever met.

He looked better in the pics he'd uploaded to the matchmaker app. I was actually excited when it said we were compatible, mainly because I knew mom would approve. Well, and because he didn't look quite as phony with a good filter.

Then we met, and he opened his dumb mouth.

“Isabella, don't play coy. You know why I'm here: you haven’t responded to a single one of my messages. You're ignoring me.” He leans a hand on the corner of the desk. “For your information, Preston Graves does not like being ignored.”

That’s how he talks. Third person. It’s overly unnecessary and fucking annoying.

Correction: he’s overly fucking annoying.

“I’ve been busy,” I say.

I mentally wonder how crazy my intruder is. Could he stop me from reaching for my phone if push comes to shove?

“Excuses, excuses. Who do you think you're dealing with, dear? No one's ever too busy for me. What's the real deal keeping you away?”

Gag me with a fucking spoon. “The school year just started.”

I force a weak smile. It does nothing. Call me an idiot for letting the dating app scan my real employer. I'm an even bigger fool if I think it'll help get me out of this madness.

“And?” Preston taps his polished shoe impatiently, scratching his head.

Ugh. Is he dense or just insufferable?

I’d told him when I cut our date short that I didn’t have time to see him again, but he obviously thought I was lying. Why he'd want to chase a liar, who knows.

Time to take a different route. “Preston, look, you shouldn't be here. It's a secure environment, this academy, whether it's school hours or not. We have rules.”

“Nonsense. Nothing's too secure for Preston Graves. My Uncle Theo sits on the board of the largest banking chain in Maricopa county. Security's practically my middle name. It's lovely you follow the rules, Isabella, but you've got nothing to worry about as long as –”

Oh, please, shut up, Gaston. It's too much like my favorite fairy tale with none of the charm. I stop listening.

It's time to end this right now.

“Do you have a pass, Preston? Did you show it to the guard in the hall?”

“The janitor, you mean? The man who’s vacuuming a few classrooms away?” He turns his nose up, walking around the desk, dragging a manicured hand along the edge. “Very funny, Isabella. You're on fire tonight. Why would I waste the time? When Preston finds something he wants, nothing stands in his way.” He stops right in front of me. “Nothing and no one.”

My heart leaps into my throat. This puffed up joke of a man is getting old and weird fast. I don't like the glint in his eye. He’s a mega-creep, too. Not just socially clueless.