Page 10 of Burn for You (Flirting with Forever 3)

I’m just about to suggest we meet when she responds.

Sherlock4Love to Prof.M.: Maybe someday.

It feels like a shutdown. It also feels like I’m about to spend another night alone with only my hand for company. Excellent.

Chapter 5

Piper

“No, Dad. It hasn’t been decided yet.” I drop my phone to my desk with a thud and hit the speaker button so I can keep grading while I listen, yet again, to why it’s “simply impossible” that someone else might also be good enough for the

department chair position. I glance behind me, assuring myself I’m alone in the workroom. I can just sense what’s coming next because for my mom and dad, it’s all about image and status and what their little girl can achieve. Not that I’m little anymore, but this is how it’s always been. Can she ace the test? Win the debate? Beat out the other students for the award? Earn the scholarship? Land the job? Be named for the department chair position? My throat goes dry and my chest squeezes tight as the immense pressure weighs down on me the way it always has. I should be used to this by now.

But I’m not.

Mom’s voice is close to shrill. “You just need to make sure you’re the one selected. You’re the best choice, hands down. Don’t they know that? This is a small town. Everyone will talk if the daughter of two of the department chairs from Hawthorne Academy doesn’t get selected for the department chair position at the local public high school.” She says it like it’s less than. Like I’ve settled, and for the love of all that’s holy, I’d better get this position or I’ll be a failure. That’s the message I get when I read between the lines.

They’d have loved for me to take a position at the academy with them, but, oh my God, can you imagine how that would have gone? I’d gladly taken the job here, knowing I didn’t want them breathing down my neck day in and day out. But still, they seem to be doing all right in that regard, even from their posh little offices at the academy.

“You’ve been groomed for that spot since the minute you walked in the door and accepted the teaching position. You have the qualifications to do it well,” Dad’s voice rumbles through the phone.

“I know. But I’m not the only one who does. I’m trying, believe me.”

“There’s no trying. Just do it or don’t.”

Who does he think he is? It’s almost like he just channeled Yoda, but the wording was a little off. I groan as I pick up a baby carrot. Shoving it into my mouth, I’m quiet for several seconds while I chew, and my parents discuss again between them how it would affect them if I fail to get the position.

“Look, guys, I’ve got to go. Lunch is almost over and I haven’t finished eating.”

“Okay. Piper? You know we just want the best for you, right?”

I prop my elbow on the desk and rest my chin on my knuckles as I look down at the phone, blinking away the haze of tears that has started to fill my eyes. “Yeah, Mom. I know.”

We say goodbye and as soon as I hit the end button on my phone, I hear someone behind me. My shoulders hunch up, and I try to calm myself, to hide this weak side of me.

I inhale carefully, afraid my fragile emotional state will be on display to whomever has come in and likely heard the latter half of that call. It’s not Sawyer or Hadleigh or any of the teachers in the other department who couldn’t care less about who gets the chair position for the English department. That would be too simple. It would be no huge deal if it were Kent or even Jake, who’d met my parents at a fundraiser and would probably feel sorry for me, knowing how hard they push. Not that I want Jake to choose me out of pity. I’ll get the position based on my own merit or not at all.

There’s only one person who would take what he’d just heard and throw it right into my face, so of course, that’s exactly who it is. I know it before I even look.

I’m sure my makeup is smudged and my face puffy, so I blink a few times and discreetly wipe under my eyes with my fingers before spinning my chair around.

Damon stands there, legs spread in a wide, manly stance, arms crossed over his broad chest, eyeing me as if he just heard every bit of what my parents said to me.

Great. Just great. That’s just what I need, for Damon to know that I have my family pressuring me to perform well—that they seem to care more about appearances or status or gossip than about their own daughter. I know they hadn’t realized anyone else could hear them—hell, neither had I—but, in my mind, that makes it worse. If they’d known, they never would have said any of that because they’d have thought it’d make them look bad and would reflect poorly on our picture-perfect family.

I blindly reach back to grab another carrot off the desk and stick it in my mouth, chewing carefully as we continue the stare down.

He nods toward my food. “You know, you should really be getting some lean protein with your lunch. Something that will fuel you for the day instead of leaving you feeling empty like your veggie lunch will.” He grunts a little, jutting his chin toward the little mini fridge we keep in the corner. “I have some chicken. Want some?”

Why is he—ever so calmly—talking to me about adding motherfreaking chicken to my lunch? I want to scream. And why are his dark eyes looking at me with something that feels a whole lot like concern? I’d have thought the whole conversation would have delighted him—especially the part when I’d mentioned there was another qualified candidate for the position.

“Mind your own business, Madero.”

He shrugs and expels a quick breath. “Suit yourself.” He sits down in his chair right next to mine. He’s still watching me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, studying me, debating with himself whether he should say anything else. If he’s not careful, the gears turning in his head are going to overheat.

I pick up another baby carrot and chomp down on it.

My lunch suddenly seems very unappetizing, not to mention, it’s a pretty fair assessment. I’m going to be even more hungry later. Jerk. I wish he’d kept his chicken thoughts to himself.

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