Page 5 of The Fear

“See you later then,” she calls after him.

Moments later, he is by my side. “Sorry, got distracted.” I throw the bag of balls at his chest more aggressively than I probably should have, and he catches it, his eyes narrowing, trying to understand what he’s walking in to.

“Well, don’t. We have a lot to get done today,” I tell him then storm from the gym, making sure not to pay attention to the one who craves it most: Miss Cassandra Harper.

I know that girl better than she knows herself. Our family ties go way back. The first time I saw her still stays with me. Her light shone bright even when she was only seventeen, her strawberry-blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight as she rehearsed her solo performance on the stage before the Christmas showcase. I wasn’t even supposed to be there that night, but Ma wasn’t well and needed a hand moving some of the larger sets, so being the good son I was, I offered to give her a hand. I only saw Cassie’s performance from the wings, but she was mesmerizing. And when she came backstage, and our eyes met for the first time, I couldn’t help but introduce myself.

Thefirstdayhasgone quickly with so much to work through. We ran our practice, and the team has definite potential. Playing the game is one thing, but coaching is going to be a whole new concept, and with the added pressure of knowing we have to win this year, it’s going to be one hell of a job to take on.

Part of me misses what I had in LA. My life was easy. I trained hard, played with all I had, and was rewarded for it. I had everything a boy could want—money, fancy cars, women lined up—but it was never going to satisfy me. Coming back here was always in our plan, and when the opportunity came up to right so many wrongs, I knew it was time.

I'm back in my office now, with most of the teachers having already left for the day. I should probably leave as well, head home for a boxing session in the gym with Kobe. But Cassie’s still here, sitting at her desk. She pulls the tie from her hair, letting it fall out and down her back, then runs a hand through the long silky strands, combing it. Miles is leaning against her desk, talking to her. Again. She’s had a big day trying to adjust to everything that’s been thrown at her as well. I should wait till tomorrow to talk to her. But I’m selfish and I can’t.

I walk toward them, and Miles stands. "I'll see you tomorrow, Cassie," he tells her, getting out of my way.

She looks back at me and goes to grab her bag.

“Cassandra, can I see you for a minute before you go today?” She looks scared, like a little mouse about to be gobbled up by a big bad cat. I wander back to my office before she answers, and I take a seat in my leather desk chair, relaxing back while I wait.

She tentatively stands in the doorway, and I motion for her to sit. “Will this be quick? I’d prefer to stand.” She looks at the chair like it might bite her if she sits on it, or maybe she’s concerned I will if she gets too close to me?

I raise a brow, knowing I should have expected the attitude. “I asked you to sit.” My tone is insistent. There is only one way things are going to run around here, and that is my way.

I get the standard eye roll for the second time today, but she complies, strolling across the room, every step almost as if it’s choreographed. Long, toned legs steal my attention. She takes hold of the seat and drags it back in a show so it is farther away from my desk, then sits tentatively, crossing one long leg over the other.

My eyes follow the lines of her body, rising to her face where I know they should be. The look reflecting back at me is not a kind one. I can almost feel that animosity radiating off her. She’s giving me her most practiced resting bitch face. Not like the doe-eyed teen who used to hang on my every word, looking for any scrap of attention I wanted to throw her. There's a dark hatred in her eyes, one she saves just for me, I think. I can’t say I don’t deserve it. How I ended things with her all those years ago wasn’t one of my finest moments. But it wasn’t like I had a choice either. And she was a kid, as if she wasn’t going to just move on and get over me. It was what I needed her to do, so I could forgive myself for leaving her like I did.

You didn’t move on, I remind myself, but that fact isn’t important anymore.

“You needed to see me?” She raises an unimpressed brow. “Was that just so you could ogle my body, or did you have something of worth to say?” Her lips form a smile, but it’s not a kind one.

“Little Strawberry Shortcake is grown up. And she’s not sweet as candy anymore. You can drop the attitude. This is a workplace, and we need to be able to work together,” I say, getting right to the point.

She blinks back at me, and I can see she is mulling over her words, trying to choose them carefully. “It’s been six years. What did you expect, some young dumb bimbo following you around, hoping you would notice me? I’m not the girl you once knew, and it would serve you well to stay the fuck away from me if you want this to be a pleasant work environment. I no longer require anything from you, and I was more than disappointed to find out you would be a part of this department. Almost let it ruin my first day.”

She throws her spirited word venom my way, and I think I’m supposed to be shocked that she despises me, even apologetic, but I’m not. I lost just as much as she did that day; she’s not the only one that had to walk away from things they cared about. I was invested in her more than I would have cared to admit, but I did what I was told to do. What I had to do. And it damn near broke me.

“Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I’m back, and this time I intend to stay. So you’re right. This little meeting I called was to ensure just that. You keep your distance and so will I.”

She nods. “Good. Sounds like we can agree on something, then.”

My stare on her intensifies. “You do understand that we will have to work together on some projects, and the rest of the teaching staff doesn’t need to know we have a history.”

“I can be professional. I worked really hard for this job, and I would like to keep it. The way I see it, I’m a wonderful actor, and every time I need to be in close proximity with you, you're just the guy who coaches the football team. I met you today and know absolutely nothing else about you. Give me the same courtesy and we’re going to be just fine working this closely together,” she says super sweetly but with a fake-ass smile. If it’s even possible, she got feistier.

Her words are meant to hurt me, but I see through her. “You always were such an outstanding performer. A shining star,” I tell her to piss her off, because I know right now she is taken right back to the first night we met, and it works. She glares daggers at me for that comment. “You think whatever you need to. You come to work and do your job every day. And while we’re on that topic, I won’t have flirting in my staffroom.” I don’t have the authority to stop it within the walls of this school, but I want to make it clear right now that I’ll make it uncomfortable for her if she intends to carry on with Miles right in front of me.

Her angry eyes come back to meet mine. “Excuse me?” she bites out through clenched teeth.

“You heard me. I heard the nonsense between you and my assistant coach today. What you do off school property is none of my business, but I won’t have it here.” I know I’m trying my luck, and really, it’s none of my business, but I want to push her. And the truth is, I can’t stand the thought of her with anyone else.

She slides her chair back to stand. “Fucking control freak. Don’t go letting the power of being the coach go to your head. I wasn’t flirting with him. He was being friendly to the new girl, and I was just being polite. But just so you know, I will flirt with whomever the hell I want, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do about it.” She turns to walk away from me. She’s fuming, and I know I should leave her alone, but I don’t want to. I have questions after all this time that I want answered. And for some reason, I feel like she owes me at least that.

“Cassandra, why aren’t you dancing with the New York Dance Company? How did you end up back here at your old school teaching?”

Spinning back to face me, she storms back over to my desk and leans down so we’re eye to eye. Her breathing is furious as she sucks in large breaths between clenched teeth. The fury in her green eyes burning a hole through my skull makes me almost regret asking. Almost.

“None of your business, Brandon, and if you ever dare to ask me that question again, I won’t care that we are on school grounds. I will slap that pretty-boy face of yours.” She gives me a death stare, as if she is waiting for my response, but I don’t have one for her. I don’t know this version of her. She’s right. She hates me with more intensity than I ever thought possible.

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