Page 4 of Teacher's Pet

"I’ll remember that, Anastasia," he calls after us, but I don’t turn around.

"What the hell was that about?" Elijah whispers, his concern evident.

"Nothing," I say with a smile, trying to reassure them both.

But that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Anything involving Cole is never just "nothing." And deep down, I know he knows that.

If his focus wasn’t on me before, it sure as hell is now.

Chapter 2

Anastasia

After walking Elijah and Megan to their class, I veer off toward the English wing, leaving the creative space behind me. As much as I’d love to fill my schedule with more creative classes, being a freshman means my options are limited. Aside from my photography class, the rest of my schedule is filled with Literature and general education courses.

I guess that's my own fault for choosing English as my major.

At first, nursing seemed like my only option. After my dad got sick, and the chemotherapy slowly drained his quality of life, the idea of watching someone go from healthy to bedridden felt unimaginable. Walking away from someone in pain, after I’ve exhausted every possible option to help them, seemed like something I could handle in a nursing position.

That ideology faltered when I was forced to face it in real life.

The brisk winter draft dances across my skin, urging me to tug on the strings of my hoodie, pulling the hood tight to shield myself from the cold. Like Elijah said, lately my wardrobe’s been nothing but oversized hoodies and warm joggers. Before college, I used to meticulously plan my outfits, always picking the best pieces to accentuate my features. Now though, hiding every inch of myself from prying eyes feels a lot more comforting.

I cross my arms, rubbing them as I count room numbers, trying to track down this damned Classic Literature class. Unlike Megan and Elijah, who had their schedules and routes memorized on day one, I’ve been taking my time learning the layout of the school. Today is the second day of the semester, and my first day in this class, thanks to the school’s alternating schedule.

Three classes a day, switching every other day.

The periods are long, but the class sizes are small, designed to make the teacher's lives a bit easier.

"408," I whisper, finally locking eyes with the bold numbers on the door.

Rubbing my hands together to ward off the cold, I look around, confused as to why I'm the only one waiting outside the classroom.

Odd. Most freshmen are eager to get a head start on class. Glancing at my watch, I click my tongue in frustration.

"Elijah and Megan's class has already started," I mutter under my breath, yanking my schedule free from my bag.

Dragging my finger down the paper, I stop at room 408’s first period start time.

"First period," I whisper. "7:30?"

"So where the hell is everyone?" I exclaim, my voice rising slightly as I glance around the empty hallway.

Running a hand through my hair, I tug my hood lower, making the executive decision to wait it out in the silent classroom. I nudge the door with my shoulder, half-expecting a room full of students to look up at me, silently judging me for being late.

But when I step inside, there’s no sign of life, just a cup of coffee sitting on the professor’s desk. I tilt my head, confused.

You’d think someone as old as Mr. Matthews would be punctual, especially when it comes to letting students know about a delayed start.

Elijah shared a few things about Mr. Matthews, mainly that he’s old, jaded, and hates his job.

Sounds like the perfect candidate for teaching, right?

I wander around the room, hands shoved in my pockets, admiring the vintage book posters on the walls. Most of them are dedicated toMidsummer Night’s Dreamand other works by Shakespeare. But one poster catches my eye.

Tucked in the corner of the wall is a vintageStar Warsposter, somehow fitting in perfectly with the rest of the decor. I can’t help but laugh, amused by the unexpected pop culture clash.

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