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Elouise
One moment,I’m talking and laughing with Mr. Olson. The next, I’m staring, open-mouthed, as Mr. Olson seemingly attempts to drown himself with his water bottle.
And then Beckett is there.
It takes a moment for my brain to catch up to my eyes.
Beckett.
Here.
In my classroom.
Looking at me like… like he owns me.
I plant my hands on my desk, like I’m going to stand up, but my legs don’t cooperate. I’m too stunned.
Beckett keeps his eyes on me as he addresses Mr. Olson, “I heard one of the parents up front asking for you.”
Instead of replying, Mr. Olson just continues to cough. His face is red, and it looks like he’s trying to glare at Beckett, but it’s hard to tell. No doubt the unexpectedly inhaled water making it hard to speak.
Not sure what to say, I lift a hand in a small wave as Mr. Olson backs out of my room.
The moment he clears the doorway, Beckett uses his foot to swing the door closed. And just like that, we’re alone.
But that doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that it’s just the two of us.
It doesn’t matter that the last time we were alone he made me come all over his fingers.
It doesn’t matter that just the sight of him reminds me of the taste of him.
It doesn’t matter because he’s a lying, cheating, douchebag.
He’s not mine.
With that reminder, I force down the fluttering in my belly.
“What are you doing here, Beckett?” I keep my voice level, trying to hide the hurt that I still feel.
He steps further into the room, looking around, taking it in.
I don’t like it.
I feel like he’s already seen so much more of me than I’ve seen of him, and this is just one more layer he gets to peel away. Another reminder that I don’t know anything about Beckett The Man.
Even though I don’t want to, I can’t stop myself from taking him in.
Worn black work boots. Faded and perfectly fitted dark jeans. And a grey cotton shirt, covered with a heavy black leather jacket.
He should look like an everyday guy, but he looks like he just walked off a calendar photoshoot. Asshole.
Stopping just a foot in front of my desk, his gaze finally rests back on me.
“Hi, Lou.”
His tone is warm, and kind, and it makes me want to slap him in the balls.
