Page 20 of Apparently, I’m Torture

“Why would he do that? We’re not the naughty kids. We don’t need to be separated.”

I found my desk, which was sandwiched between a teacher from an arts school, and another from a tech school. Mia kept walking, and when she stopped at a desk that was on the other end of the room, she stared at me pointedly from across it.

“Look at that. Maybe we are the naughty kids,” I mumbled.

A grumble sounded from behind me, and I turned, flushing as I took in Shawn’s stern stare. My eyes swept over him. Over his sharp jawline, defined cheekbones, and full lips. It really wasn’t fair that he still looked like this.

Nervous flutters erupted from my belly, and as he watched, I backed up against my desk, clenching my thighs tight as he stepped forward.

He cleared his throat, and as I licked my bottom lip, I felt him study my mouth. Just that sudden shift in his attention sent a thrill through me, and of all my warring emotions, a craving to have him closer won out.

What the hell was happening to me? I didn’t like Shawn anymore. He called me torture, ended our relationship, and perpetually avoided me for years. All I wanted was an answer. Why? Why was he treating me like this? But I’d gotten nothing so far. So why couldn’t my body switch off this never-ending pull toward him?

“There’s just one last thing I need to let you know of, Miss Fares.”

“Oh?” I breathed out.

“This is a workplace. I expect you to dress as such.”

My eyes went wide and I looked around at the casually clad teachers. Why was I the only one hearing about this?

“But everyone else is–”

He let out a frustrated breath. “Everyone will dress appropriately, including you.” He dragged his dark eyes across me, and a shiver crept down my spine. “Is that clear?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Shaw–”

Something flashed in his dark eyes, and his deep voice rumbled, “It’s Mister Jackson.”

I felt flustered; heat spread through me and pulsed in my lower belly. “You can’t keep pretending we don’t know each other, Shawn. You have to talk to me at some point.”

He tightened his lips. “Have a good afternoon, Miss Fares. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

As he turned and walked away, disappointment crashed and clattered inside me.

Chapter 8

Lilly

Friday Night

Lilly’s Apartment

“Home sweet home,” I mumbled as I fumbled with my keys, opened my tiny apartment and stepped inside.

A waft of scorched candle wicks and cinnamon met me, and my nerves instantly settled. It was a relief to be in a place with zero people, expectations or surprises. I ran my hand through my bangs and sat on my soft, worn-in, two-person couch.

My first week working this fundraiser wasn’t exactly stress-free.

On Monday, Shawn made it clear we were there to work. I tried to talk to him, but he wasn’t… interested, I guess.

Day two, I wobbled into the center wearing a white button-down tucked into a waist-hugging black pencil skirt. The heels I tottered in were a new buy, one I instantly regretted as I tripped across the subway.

Mia’s mouth dropped open as she eyed me. “You look amazing.”

I returned the favor and studied the beige boho, off-shoulder dress she wore. “Uh, weren’t we all supposed to dress… professionally, Mia?”

Confusion tugged at her face. “Were we? I wasn’t told that.”