Bad Teacher
“Sorry,” he mumbles, licking his lips as eyes hidden under thick lashes meet mine. Just for a moment, he’s captured my attention … and then he lets it go by focusing on the contract in front of him. He flips through the pages. “Signed it?”
“Yup,” I reply, trying to calm my nerves.
“All right. Before I make this final, can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
His gaze narrows. “Can I … trust you?”
My lips part, but I hesitate. I don’t know how to answer. What kind of question is that? Who asks that? And why?
Still, there’s only one correct answer if I want to get this job. “Of course.”
He nods. “Great. I’ll take your word for it.”
While he signs the contract, I quickly pull out my phone and text my mom.
Me: Finally got it! Morrows it is. Gonna be an intern.
Mom: Wow! Congratulations, honey! Can’t wait to hear how it goes.
Me: Thanks! Will talk more later. xx
When he stops writing, I quickly tuck the phone away again. He pulls one of the copies of the contract out and hands it back to me. “This is yours; I’ll keep the rest.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it. “Welcome to the firm.”
“Thanks,” I reply, trying not to feel overwhelmed by his hand touching mine.
“So …” He leans back in his chair. “I’m curious. How come you never asked what it is that we do?”
“I don’t know. I just …”
Shit, he saw right through me.
Maybe I should’ve done my research when I still had the chance.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“It’s okay. I knew it the moment you walked in here during your interview,” he muses, the left side of his lip quirking up into a smile. “You apply to a bunch of companies and try to snag the first one that talks to you.”
I rub my lips together, feeling the heat.
“Don’t worry; I’m not going to pull the rug out from underneath you.” He chuckles. “I already hired you, even when I knew all this.”
“Is that why you sent me away?” I ask.
“No.” He takes a short breath. “That was about something else. Look, the point is, it doesn’t matter to me. You convinced me you’re perfect for the job with just your attitude alone.”
The compliment makes me glow, but I don’t know why. I normally never care that much about what other people think about me. But with him, it’s different. I feel like I constantly need to impress him.
“Thank you. I appreciate the chance,” I say. “I won’t let you down.”
He nods. “Great, because you can bet I’m going to hold you to that.” We both laugh a little. He tucks away the papers and gets up from his chair. “Now that the official part is over, I can finally introduce you to your new partner.” I follow his lead as he walks to the door.
“Partner?”
“Yeah.” We go through the hallway and into the elevator. “Tell me, Lesley, what do you think we do here at Morrows?”
“Uh …” The doors close and he presses a button, letting me suffer in silence while I try to think of an answer. “You sell products?”
The right side of his lips tip up briefly, and he places his hand on the wall beside me. “Good guess.”
I can’t stop staring at his smoldering eyes. And the way he stares back at me makes me feel like he knew this was coming. Like he’s been waiting for me all along. But that doesn’t make any sense.
“What do you think we sell?”
“Um … I don’t know … newspapers? Stock market shares? Hygienic products?” With each guess, he leans in just a tiny inch, but it’s noticeable to me. I’m not sure I mind, but it sure is getting hot in here. Or maybe that’s just me.
And Jesus Christ that cologne he’s wearing … It’s intoxicating.
“Office supplies? Food?” I continue, but he still doesn’t say yes.
The elevator door opens, and he saunters out alone. The sudden absence of his presence makes it feel like I’m choking on the empty air. It takes me a few seconds to compose myself.
“Are you coming?” he asks, playfully raising his brows at me.
“Yeah, sorry.” I huff, running my fingers through my hair. “I hate small spaces.”
It’s not a lie; I do hate small spaces … but not when I can share them with him.
Jesus, you horny bitch, stop chasing the impossible. He’s your boss now. Act like a good employee.
“Odd,” he says, shrugging, and he turns around to start walking again.
I quickly follow behind him. “What’s odd?”
He glances at me. “Never pegged you to be claustrophobic.”
“Pfft … nah, I’m not claustrophobic. I just don’t like elevators. That’s all.” I laugh it off a little, but it’s not working because he’s not laughing with me.
“I like narrow spaces. Gives my mind the opportunity to focus,” he says, pointing at his temple.