Page 29 of Teacher's Pet

"I-I have to go," I whisper, my breath shaky. "Now."

The jingle of keys echoes from the hallway, a sharp reminder that Tate isn’t in the mood to wait. My window of escape is closing.

"Ana-"

But I don’t let him finish.

Bolting toward the side door, I spill into the empty classroom beside his, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The darkness swallows me whole, but I don’t stop moving.

Through the thin walls, I hear Tate strike up a conversation with Noah, his voice casual, unaware of the storm brewing just moments ago. My fingers fumble with the front door handle of the empty classroom, my only hope that the teacher who locked up didn’t double-check before leaving.

It clicks open.

I don’t hesitate.

Slipping outside, I seize the opportunity and bolt, my feet carrying me away from Noah, away from whatever the hell just happened between us. But even as I put distance between us, I can feel it. An invisible tether, something dark, something unshakable.

Something tells me that what I just allowed to happen has created a whole new monster.

I just wish I knew whether that monster was tethered to me or to Noah.

Chapter 9

Anastasia

It’s been two days since my encounter with Noah in his classroom.

Two days since Walker’s little fiasco.

Two days of Elijah and Megan’s relentless questioning.

The morning after my drunken mess of a night, Megan waltzed into our room, radiating happiness, as if the world hadn’t just shifted under my feet. I guess her night with Elijah evolved into something more. Something involving a girl from the swim team, if the smug grin on her face was anything to go by.

Meanwhile, I’ve spent every moment since trying to navigate the minefield of their curiosity, dodging their questions about my night with Walker. They don’t know the full truth.

Hell, I barely know how to process it myself.

Lying about the bruises was easy enough. Blaming them on Walker’s rough grip made sense. It was plausible, believable. But looking Megan dead in the eyes and executing that lie without flinching? That was damn near impossible.

Because every time I try, I can still feel Noah’s touch like a ghost on my skin. And that’s a truth I can’t afford to admit.

Not to them, and definitely not to myself.

On top of everything else, my mom has been blowing up my phone with texts about my dad. Update after update about his latest surgery, his test results, the doctors’ reassurances that feel emptier every time. She tries to stay optimistic, her words laced with forced hope, but I can hear the exhaustion between the lines. Every picture she sends me shows the truth she won’t say out loud. The chemo is stripping him down to nothing, piece by piece. It’s like every round is taking more of his soul, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

The only good news I can give her, the only thing keeping her from completely unraveling, is that I’m making something of myself here. That I’m staying on track. That I’m okay.

I can’t ruin this for them.

I can’t let Cole, Walker, or Noah derail me from this dumbass degree.

I need to be careful.

I need to think about my dad.

Before my thoughts can spiral any further, a cheerful voice cuts through the quiet.

"Oh, am I late?"

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