Page 6 of If The Shoe Fits

Like she’s an erotic dancer and this is a private booking.

Oh, for Pete’s sake.

The quarterback raises his hands, his expression shocked like he isn’t sure what to do.

Bethany looks away, sadness washing across her face. Daniel growls. And the rest of the class smirks and chitters away like the gossip chasing clowns they sometimes are.

But I was more than ready to handle it.

I walk over to the pair of them, and I cross my arms.

Sigh.

I know she knows I’m there, but Cyndi keeps chatting away, twirling a lock of Matthew’s chestnut hair around her finger.

He isn’t touching her. But he isn’t saying no, either.

That makes me sad.

Bethany should maybe set her sights elsewhere, but I know he isn’t a bad kid.

I mean, I can’t blame Matthew for being interested.

Cyndi is lovely.

She’s tall and thin, with golden locks and bright blue eyes. She is the epitome of beauty.

But as we all know, that only goes skin deep.

Beyond her perfect porcelain complexion, Cyndi is, I’m sorry to say, ugly to the bone.

She is a spoiled little brat.

“Do you mind?” I ask, and Cyndi turns her head to face me, scrunching her nose like she smells something bad.

“Mind? No, I don’t mind,” she replies, turning back to Matthew.

“Okay. That’s it. Everyone, sit down. In. Your. Own. Seat,” I tell the entire class before turning back to where Cyndi is still perched on a panicked looking Matthew’s lap.

“Uh, Cyndi, I think the professor wants you to?—”

“I’ll handle this,” she says with a smirk. “I really like this seat Professor Troy. I think I’ll stay.”

“Miss Tremayne, you are dangerously close to getting a failing grade for the day. You have three seconds to comply,” I tell her.

“Failing grade? For what? I mean, I am sitting down,” she retorts.

“Okay, that is one failing mark for you. And one for Matthew. Now, are you going to return to your seat, or do I mark you down for detention?”

“You can’t do that!” she spits angrily.

“Cyndi, come on,” Matthew says, and he is squirming to get her off, but Cyndi is worse than a tick.

“You do understand that the next failing grade means you will have to repeat my class, and as for Matthew, he will lose his extracurricular privileges,”

“What are you saying?”

“No big homecoming game this Friday,” I threaten.

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