Page 61 of Tell Me Lies

“No one?” Mr. Miller crossed his arms, frowning.

“Uh, Mr. Miller,” Reggie said, glancing between me and the podium where Mr. Miller stood. “Anya has her hand up.”

Mr. Miller turned his gaze to me, and I thought if a stare could murder, I’d be a bloody mess right where I sat. But what the hell? I dropped my hand. My first instinct was to run because I wasn’t the confrontational type.

“No, it’s not.” Mr. Miller turned his icy stare back to Reggie. “I don’t see it up. Do you?”

Reggie’s eyes moved to me again, confusion filling his face and a little bit of betrayal. God, I should not have dropped my hand. I mouthed the word “sorry” to Reggie, but he just frowned and turned his eyes back to Mr. Miller, who clearly was determined to get an answer out of Reggie.

“It was,” Reggie said, his gaze dropping to his notebook.

“Well, maybe you can answer then since you’re so concerned about Anya.” Mr. Miller walked over to the projector screen and tapped on the black text.

Reggie tried his best to answer but didn’t quite satisfy Mr. Miller.

“The investigation of a crime must be conducted according to the proper procedures. Otherwise, innocent people could be held accountable for crimes they didn’t commit, and guilty parties could walk free because the evidence was obtained in improper ways that are inadmissible in court.” The memorized answer came out of me. I’d read the answer online just before class started.

The silence in the room amplified. No one said a word, not even a rustle, a shift in the seat. Mr. Miller slid his glittering eyes to me, glowering.

“If you wanted to answer, you should have raised your hand and waited to be called on.”

“I did.” My voice was small, and I was acutely aware my head was on the chopping block, and the class was the audience waiting for the slaughter.

“Well, if that were true, I’d have called on you, don’t you think?” Mr. Miller walked back up to the podium.

“I don’t think that, sir.” My gaze moved up, glancing to Reggie, who had a what the fuck look on his face.

But just as the famous saying goes, I was saved by the bell, as the end-of-class bell sounded through the auditorium. Everyone stood, scampering up the steps to exit, not spending a moment longer than needed. But as I stood with my backpack, shaking like jelly, nerves firing off inside for my audacity, Mr. Miller called my name.

I gasped, my heart lunging in my throat, and looked up to see him standing at the podium still, angry and imposing. With some force inside, I moved toward the front of the auditorium, catching sympathetic gazes from my classmates as I walked in the opposite direction of everyone else. And when I was finally in front of the podium, I had to make a decision. Mr. Miller was being very unfair and cruel. Just like my father always was. I would not cower as I always had with him. Mr. Miller was not my father.

“What?” I said, though less angry than I imagined I would say it. I wasn’t good at being angry.

He smirked. Ugh. The asshole. And he rested his bare forearms on the podium, now empty.

“We need to speak privately.” He didn’t waver. Not his body. Not his eyes. Not his breathing. He was steady. “I have office hours right now.”

A ripple of energy moved through me from head to toe. The thought of being alone with Mr. Miller both exhilarated and terrified me. I didn’t know what I would say if no one was around to keep me in check. Because another thing I wasn’t good at was lying. And if he knew who my father was, would he kick me out of his class? Oh, God. I needed to graduate because I had a job offer at a prime investigative magazine in August. I had no time for another semester.

“Fine.”

Chapter Four

Ursin Miller

I’m a dick. I know it. Everyone in the class witnessed it firsthand. Anya just made me impulsive, and it showed. She made me want to take her down, and I still wasn’t sure why. And as I unlocked my office door with her standing behind me, I had to contain myself. Me—a guy who was always in control. I made a career out of it.

“Come in.” I stepped aside for her to walk in, her sugary fragrance wafting off her.

She passed me, her gaze forward, but for a flicker of a second, she looked at me, those dark eyes rife with confusion. And fear. I knew why. Anya needed this class to graduate at the end of the summer session. She needed me to pass her.

I wanted to fail her so she could take this class again and think of me. Hate me for it.

Anya sat on the only empty seat in my office across my desk. She set her backpack on her lap and clasped her hands over the top, fingers tightening against each other.

I slung my bag over the mismatched filing cabinet, noting the university still hadn’t replaced the used furniture to what I had requested. I gritted my teeth. I didn’t like waiting for what I wanted.

“Do you know why I asked you to come to my office?” I sat in the executive chair and leaned back against the worn foam back.

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