Page 87 of The Friend Game

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the elders want to fire me after yet another scandal. I need to focus on showing them that I want to be here. Which means I need to take some time to address everything that happened tonight and try and fix it. And you’ve got your career stuff to worry about too. Which, of course, I will support you with. I meant what I said in the meeting. Despite everything that happened, I still think you should be the art teacher here. You’re the best person for the job, and I believe God has you here for a reason. How did the meeting end?” he adds. “Did they tell you when they would have a decision for you?”

Numbly I shrug. “I don’t know. I—uh, left the meeting to come look for you.”

“You did?” he’s shocked.

“Of course,” I say, speaking to my feet, unable to look at him. It just hurts too much. “I was worried about you. It killed me that you might be out there thinking that I knew Marshall was the one who invited the kids to participate in that exhibit or that you might think I actually said yes to having dinner with him! Which I definitely did not!” I say hotly. “I don’t want anything to do with that man. He ambushed me in my classroom one day asking if we could talk, and I in turn asked him to leave.” Tears are threatening to emerge again, but I fend them off with a swipe of my hand, remembering too late that there’s clay all over my hands—and now, surely there’s some on my face as well. Glad I’m going to look super hot during this breakup.

“This isn’t about any of that,” Luke says softly. “I knew you never would have agreed to work with him or have dinner with him.” He steps forward and takes my chin in his hand, tilting it up to him. “That’s not who you are,” he says firmly.

My whole body trembles at his touch, at his affirming words. His eyes flick over to the cheek I just swiped.

“You’ve, uh, got some clay,” he says hoarsely, moving his hand from my chin to my cheek and gently sweeping his thumb across my cheek bone.My breath catches in my throat as all of my senses tunnel in on his nearness. At the sound, Luke stills. His eyes lock on mine, like he’s searching for a reason not to kiss me. But he won’t find one. Pathetic as it makes me, I desperately want to kiss this man who just broke up with me.

Electricity sizzles in the air between us then seems to snap as Luke closes the remaining distance between us, claiming my mouth with his in one swift movement.

His kiss is hungry and fervent. Laced with the urgency of our impending separation. The wetness of his shirt sends a shiver through my body and he hugs me more tightly, warming me with his big body. I lift my hands and wrap them around his neck. He lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a groan, then his hands find my hair, digging through it as he demands more of me. And I give it willingly, letting him kiss me and kissing him back with the full weight of my need for him.

Screech! The needle on my record player sticks, making an awful screeching noise that startles us apart. The needle is still stuck, still screeching loudly. So I hurry over and fix it. Adele’s voice fills the room again, oddly on point as she sings about setting fire to the rain.

I switch it off quickly, not wanting Adele to add any more emotion to this turmoil-filled space.

My shirt is damp from Luke, and I pull it off my body as I turn to face him. His chest is heaving and he’s backed all the way up to the doorway again. The guilt and anguish on his face tells me everything I need to know. That kiss changed nothing.

“Hannah, I’m so sor—” he starts, but I cut him off, anger finally rearing its ugly head.

“You know what, just forget about it, Luke,” I bite out the words. “Can you just please go?”

Luke flinches as if I’ve hit him.Good. The viscous thought flits into my head, quickly replaced by a pang of remorse. I don’t mean it, not really. I don’t want to hurt Luke. I just want my own pain to end.

“Yeah, okay,” he says gruffly. “I’ll go.” He turns to leave then pauses with his hand on the door jamb. “I really am sorry, Hannah,” he says without looking back. “You deserve so much better.” Then he’s gone.

I sink back onto my stool and begin to sob.

Chapter 35

“HANNAH!” A LOUD banging on my front door startles me out of the stupor I’ve been stuck in. A stupor that involves sitting motionless on my couch, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

If anyone ever asks me to describe said ceiling in explicit detail I’d be able to tell them that it has eight can lights, three ceiling beams, and a rather alarming cobweb in the far corner.

“Hannah, are you in there?” It’s Brooke.

“I do have a key, you know!” And Jill. Holly, who’d started barking at the pounding, gets up from her spot on the floor next to my feet and heads for the door, waiting expectantly for me to let them in.

But I don’t let them in. Nor do I answer them. They’ve been calling and texting me incessantly since they got out of the meeting an hour ago. I left the art room shortly after Luke, both because I didn’t want to get caught crying in there andbecause I was extremely desperate for the sanctuary of my house.

Or rather the sanctuary of Jill’s guesthouse. Where I am doomed to remain for some time now that I don’t have a job. That’s right. Somewhere in the mass of text messages they sent me it came out that the board not only voted against keeping me on, they also suspended George for a week for his role in all of this. Brooke claims everyone in the room was in an uproar about the decision, but that there was nothing they could do. The board had the final decision.

Honestly, it shouldn’t surprise me. They always were in Lexie’s pocket. Who was I fooling thinking I stood a chance? Even if Marshall hadn't shown up things probably wouldn’t have gone my way.

It’s hard to muster up the energy to care about being out of a job, though, not when I feel so utterly devastated by Luke walking away from me. The ache is so deep that I can’t believe my heart is still functioning.

“Do you think she’s in there?” Sydney’s voice joins the fray. Oh yay. Glad she’shere too. The more people around to witness me falling apart the better.

“Where else would she be?” Okay, Belinda too? Really? “We looked all over the school and her car is out front.”

“I’m getting my key,” Jill announces. I should move. They’ll be coming in soon, and I’d rather they not find me. Unfortunately my limbs aren’t cooperating. When did my arms get so heavy?

Oh right. That’s the weight of rejection.

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