Page 14 of Baby Duke

Straightening my spine (and resolve), I open the door to my English lesson.

The eyes of my new classmates burn my very soul.

Sitting at tables of twos, I spy a few familiar faces.

The blonde girl from the airport lavatory glares at me from her seat beside an equally glare-y princess. I send them a smirk and a finger wave.

Trent is seated a few lengths back, and my smirk grows into a genuine grin as I meet his twinkling eyes.

Moving on, I scan the room for an empty seat. I spy one smack-bang in the center of the classroom. My smile vanishes, and I groan.

Mother fucking Western Mazzuchelli.

He's lounging like a freaking King in the center of the supposed two-seater table, the spare chair thrown carelessly into the aisle where, apparently, the teacher is cool for it to sit.

"Ah, you must be Ms. Nixon," a gravelly voice interrupts my inner musings, and I turn to find an attractive middle-aged man dressed in a smart grey suit leaning against his tidy desk. His eyes are latched onto me, head tilted slightly to the side.

I have never been into older men, but hot-damn, this man can fit a suit! He is handsome, and from the arch of his left eyebrow, he knows it.

"Yes, Sir," I smile sweetly, feigning shyness with a look to my feet, a bite at my bottom lip, and a glance back up to Mr. Handsome.

He sends me a smile in return, which is more of a smirk, really.Well, well.Mr. English Teacher likes himself a shy schoolgirl.

"My name is Mr. Foster, but Sir works too," he says, and I swear there is not a dry pair of panties left in the room. "Why don't you take a seat next to Western? I'm sure he will catch you up on what you've missed this morning.”

He sends West a stern look.

"No," West says. Plain and simple.

Asshole. I send him a scowl.

"No, you will not allow Ms. Nixon to sit next to you or no, you won't share your work?" Mr. Foster asks, though it seems he is not expecting an answer as he continues, "Unfortunately, Mr. Mazzuchelli, your table has the only spare seat in the room. As to the notes, I am sure you haven't bothered taking any yourself anyway. Would anybody like to volunteer their notes for Rowena?"

I freeze.God-damn-it.Did he really just drop my full name in front of dozens of immature teenagers?On my first day!

"It's Roe," I say quickly, but the damage is done.

"Weiner? Like a cock?" prissy princess down the front perks up, eyes sparkling with glee. "Is your mommy a whore?"

Toilet BJ girl laughs at her friend's smart mouth. "Maybe her mommy had big plans for her daughter to join the family business, gave her a stripper name so she wouldn't have to think one up in the future."

The class hoots and hollers. Even Wests' lips are curled up at one side.

"I could think of a comeback, but seeing as I literally witnessed you swallowing a load yesterday, I won't bother," I hiss.

The class fills with 'oooohs’ as the two girls glare daggers at me.

"Alright, alright, simmer down, everyone," Mr. Foster yells. "Apologies, Roe, I will take note of your preferred name. Please, have a seat next to Mr. Mazzuchelli."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir," I say as I sashay to my seat.

I drag the chair from the aisle and squeeze it beside West, who refuses to move an inch to the left so I can actually fit.

"Asshole," I mutter as I sit straddling the table leg.

West glares at me in all his broody glory before turning back to face Mr. Foster. I scowl, taking in his profile from the side. He really is a beautiful human being. Too bad he was a fucking douchebag. A beautiful douchebag.

Chapter Eight

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