Page 32 of Avoiding Temptation
Maybe he could change courses?I shoot down the little voice in my head who’s getting carried away with herself. I’ve no reason to think that whatever has happened between us isn’t more than a bit of fun to him. For all I know, his friends have dared him to bed the teacher.
My cheeks heat at the thought of being nothing more than a pawn in his games, but something tells me it’s more than that, which is another reason why I need to stay away. The last thing I need right now as I try to rebuild my life is a serious relationship.
This is meant to be about me.
About me experiencing all the things I never got to, not falling for the first guy I laid eyes on.
After double-checking my phone is on silent, I finish off my dinner. I’m tempted all night to see if he’s responded, but I tell myself that I’m not really avoiding him if I’m waiting for a reply.
Chapter Twelve
By the timeThursday rolls around, I’m almost at breaking point. On Tuesday, I had a box of doughnuts delivered to work. Caroline once again hung around a little too long after delivering them—I’m not sure if she wanted to know who sent them or if she just wanted one. Unfortunately for her, I’d overslept that morning and was starving. I’m not even ashamed to admit that I ate the entire lot before I turned my sofa into a bed that night.
On Wednesday, I didn’t have any deliveries at work, but just as I was sitting down to eat my questionable looking ready meal, the buzzer in my flat went off and, at the other end, was a man delivering Chinese. The dishes were exactly the same as we had last Thursday, and, when I got to the bottom of the bag, I found a note.If you need a hand eating all this, call me…followed by his phone number. I must admit that after reading that, I did go and get my phone. I even got as far as typing his number in and saving it in my contacts. But at no point did I connect the call.
Not only did my fear of another nightmare keep me awake Wednesday night, but knowing I’d be seeing Joe in mere hours was enough to have my heart racing.
How was he going to act after everything that’s happened between us? Would he just let it go, seeing as I’ve not responded to any of his little reminders that he still exists that he’s sent this week?
By the time the clock ticks around to the beginning of his class, I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve planned loads of group and individual quiet activities so I don’t have to talk much for fear of totally screwing it up.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he’s not the first into the room. It gives me hope that maybe he won’t show, although I know it’s only wishful thinking. He might not always act like the most engaged student in the room, but having marked his work to date, I know he’s taking this seriously.
I’m writing instructions on the board when the atmosphere changes. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s just walked in, and that he’s looking right at me. I continue what I’m writing, trying to ignore the burning of his stare. Dread knots my stomach that he might not be being all too discrete about what—or who—is holding his attention. As if this week’s not been hard enough, I really don’t need suspicious students.
I keep my eyes locked on the board for longer than necessary, putting off the inevitable of turning around and finding him looking like the bad boy geek I’ve always dreamed of.
Blowing out a slow breath, I spin and cast my eyes over my students, who are all sitting in their seats and patiently waiting for class to start. I breathe a sigh of relief that they’re not looking between the two of us like they suspect something.
I do everything I can to keep my eyes from the back of the room, but eventually the pull becomes too much and I look over. He’s watching me, exactly like I knew he was, and the second our eyes lock it’s like a baseball bat smashes me in the chest. His eyes shine with concern as he studies me. Guilt hits me for not thanking him for all the gifts I’ve received over the last few days. Suddenly, my reasons for staying away from him don’t seem all that important as his body calls to mine.
Standing behind my desk and using it to stop me from walking directly over to him, I start the class. Words pour from my mouth, but none of them register in my brain. I could be telling them any kind of crap right now about Shakespeare and I’d be none the wiser.
All sets of eyes but one lower to get started on the task I’ve given them. That other set holds mine captive, making my heart rate increase and causing my temperature to soar. They drop from mine and take in my new outfit. Desire pulls at his features as he takes in the black prom style dress that clings to my breasts and makes my waist look much smaller than it actually is. My muscles pull tight as I fight the need to walk over to him.
I know I need to break the connection between us before one of the other students notices, we’re already on borrowed time, but it’s easier said than done—especially when he looks back up to me. Something crackles between us, and it hits me between the legs. Memories of how it felt having his hands on me Friday night slam into me, and my blush trails down my neck and onto my chest.
His lips curl up into a smirk, telling me that he knows exactly where my thoughts are. Anger burns through me that he’s so obviously taunting me in the one place he knows he can’t.
I turn my back on him and drag in some much-needed air. I’m stronger than to let him break me. Maybe the old me wouldn't have been, but the new me definitely is.
When I turn back around, he’s staring down at the pad of paper in front of him. Something still tingles just beneath my skin with him in close proximity, but, without his attention, at least I’m able to get on with my job.
I grab the stack of marked work on my desk, making sure his is at the bottom of the pile, and I head over to my first student to give them feedback.
With ten minutes left of the lesson, the only work I’ve got left to give feedback on is Joe’s. My hand trembles as I glance over at him. He must feel my stare, because he immediately looks up. His eyes drop to the papers in my hand and a knowing grin appears. He knows exactly what I’m avoiding.
Sucking in some strength, I take a step forward and then pull out the empty chair next to him.
“Mr. Kingsman, I must say I really enjoyed marking this. You have a way with words. It flows easily and clearly shows your understanding on the beginning of the story.”
“A way with words, huh? I thought my talents lie elsewhere, if I’m being honest. What would you say, Miss Smith?” he leans in and whispers the last sentence.
My stomach knots as I fight for something to say that won’t encourage him.
“I think…that if you keep your head down and focus, you’ll come out of this with a really good grade that will give you that step towards the career and life you want.”
“What if there’s something I want more?” He scans my face, committing each of my features to memory.
