Page 8 of Between Hate and Desire

“Lennon, this should’ve been submitted before the school year started.” The sternness in her voice isn’t lost on me. She sets down the paper, and I notice it’s a printout of the written budget I made to show where the money would be spent. It took weeks of research for this request over winter break, and I made sure all the numbers were accurate.

“I understand and apologize. I applied for several grants to purchase the extra equipment, but we weren’t accepted as I had hoped. I thought the kids could do the spring program with what we had, and while we can, I think they’ll learn more if we could purchase new rhythm instruments,” I explain.

She looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. I’m growing more anxious as each second passes, and it’s so quiet I can hear the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock. “I’ve decided to approve five hundred dollars, which is within my limits of authority. I know this is your first year, and you probably didn’t realize what you would need, but next year, proposals are due before the first day of school. Understand?”

I nod, my heart pounding at the prospect of having my contract renewed next year, which is overly exciting, but I don’t allow it to show. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so much. I appreciate this.” Flashing her a grateful smile, I add, “I won’t let you down, promise. It’s going to be the best spring concert the kids have ever done.”

“I like you, Lennon, and I like your drive. Keep up the good work. Remember this first year of teaching and how passionate you are. I hope you never lose that. After years of teaching, too many educators lose that spark and only clock in to earn a paycheck,” she tells me as her phone rings.

“I will. Absolutely! Thank you again.” I stand, see my way out, and walk toward the music room with a little hop in my step. She didn’t outright say I’d have my contract renewed, but she always chooses her words carefully.

Unlocking my classroom door, I step inside, feeling elated I’ll be able to teach the kids new things. I stop for a moment and look around the room. Taking it all in, I focus on the fire to teach music inside me right now. The child-size chairs surrounding the piano in the center of the room will soon have eager children who want to sing and learn sitting in them. I’m living my dream.

Glancing at the clock to see how much time I have until the bell rings, there’s twenty minutes left, so I text Brandon about the little sexy stunt he pulled this morning.

Before I click on his name, I find an unread text from Hunter and a picture of our sink stacked full of dirty dishes that have been in his room for only God knows how long.

My nostrils flare, and now, I’m worked up and raging all over again.

Bastard.

CHAPTER TWO

HUNTER

I can’t helpbut chuckle as Lennon stomps around, huffing and cursing me out like she does every morning. It’s our own little fucked-up routine, but without the make-up sex afterward.

When we met almost two years ago, I knew she was special. Call it instinct or maybe fate—I don’t know what it was—but I felt it right down to my bones that Lennon Corrigan was meant to be in my life. The way she looked at me, our flirtatious banter, the electricity that soared between us—it all made me come alive. The fact I’d never felt instant chemistry like that with anyone before her had me wanting to get to know her.

Imagine my shock that night when I saw her standing in my kitchen after fucking my best friend. As much as I wanted to be happy for Brandon, I was slowly dying inside. I still am, and I’ve wanted to ask herwhyso many times.

Why him?

Why not me?

Why didn’t she giveusa chance?

I’ve concluded the moment we shared at the bar must’ve been one-sided. She’d flirted to get a free drink, and that’s all it was. She came up a few more times with her friends but never made it clear she had felt what I did. Of course she returned for more drinks, but I clearly spun it in my head into something it wasn’t, which made me a goddamn fool.

She chose Brandon, and I refused to stand in the way. However, that doesn’t make it easy to see them together, even now. You’d think I would’ve gotten over it, considering nothing happened between us, but the more I saw her on the weekends and the days she’d sleep over during the summer made it impossible for me to forget her. We shared something special at that bar, or at least my heart fed me that lie anytime she was close. I quickly decided the only way to deal with her constant presence was to get under her skin and frustrate her as much as I could because that was what she did to me.

It was all fun and games until eight months ago when Brandon announced she’d be moving in permanently. Lennon found a job at one of the schools here so they’d no longer have to date long distance. It was easy to see how happy he was about it too. I could’ve said no, made an argument about how there wasn’t room for her in our tiny apartment, or even mentioned how I didn’t approve of their relationship. However, I’d never put our friendship at risk by making him choose between me—his best friend—and the woman he loved.

I refused to be that guy. If the tables were turned, I knew he’d wish me luck and give me his blessing. So that’s what I did and continue to do.

Now hearing her sing in the shower each morning, watching her dance in the kitchen while she makes coffee, and doing her stupid yoga in the living room have tortured me for the past eight months. Everywhere I turn, there she is—invading my space and creating dirty thoughts in my head that I’m always pushing away.

It’s been fucking hell.

The only way to erase the thoughts of Lennon from my mind is to find someone else. Or that’s what I keep telling myself, at least because I’ve tried many times and failed miserably. Something’s obviously broken inside me because no matter what I do, those feelings for her don’t go away. I know she doesn’t reciprocate them, and you’d think my dick would get the memo and stop getting hard anytime she’s in a tight skirt or low-cut blouse. You’d think my heart would stop racing each time she’s near. You’d think after hearing them having sex and her screaming his name, I would stop obsessing over my best friend’s girlfriend.

But no.

I’m fucking broken.

Nothing in my head works right when it comes to her, and even screwing random girls to erase the thoughts that haunt me hasn’t worked so far.

Though it doesn’t stop me from trying.

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