“Sit,” she instructs, barely glancing up from the papers in her hand when I enter her office. I take a seat, dropping my heavy bag on the floor.
“I see you submitted a budget proposal for the spring concert,” she says, her dark eyes finally meeting mine.
I swallow hard. “Yes, ma’am. I’d like to be able to buy a few new microphones and instruments for the kids to play at the concert. We have a large supply of recorders but are missing several percussion instruments like hand drums, claves, and even a bass drum,” I linger nervously. “The tambourines aren’t in the greatest condition either as you can imagine with the kids smacking them around,” I add with a small smile.
“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.
Principal Maples looks at me and 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 really 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 just 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 Principal Maples 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 really 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 really living my dream.
I glance at the clock on the wall to see how much time I have until the bell rings. Twenty minutes. I decide to text Brandon about the little sexy stunt he pulled this morning.
Before I click on his name, I see an unread text from Hunter. I open it and find 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 just like that, I’m worked up and raging all over again.
Bastard.
Chapter Two
Hunter
I can’t help but chuckle as Lennon stomps around, huffing and cursing me out like she does every morning. It’s our own little fucked-up routine, just 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 her why so many times.
Why him?
Why not me?
Why didn’t she give us a 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.