This stuffy meetingroom is the last place I want to be. With these entitled people who let money talk for them. Discussing how to make the school better, when they, in fact, don’t care. No, I have much better things to be doing today. Like crawling back in my bed to the vixen I left asleep.
Rules? What fucking rules? I’ve broken so many of them already. I made love to her, I let her fall asleep in my bed, let her get away with being a brat. I’m going to have to start all over again. Train her correctly and try to fix my fuck-ups.
“I think school uniforms should be enforced,” says Patrick, a fifty-year-old tycoon, the father of my most annoying student, Jennifer. He rubs his mustache, laying his sausage fingers over his beer gut.
“Okay,” I begin, “what are the requirements of this uniform?”
“Glad you asked, Mr. Boyd. The boys would wear slacks and blazers, of course.” He shifts in his seat.
“Of course,” I deadpan.
“And the girls, skirts and blazers.”
I roll my eyes, leaning forward in my chair. “I’m not sure when you last checked the calendar, but it’s the twenty-first century, and we no longer force girls to wear skirts if they don’t want to. There are countless girls who are uncomfortable with skirts. Whether it be a personal reason or simply because they don’t want to. We can’t force our students to wear uniforms. They should be allowed to freely express themselves through clothes. Denied. Next topic.” I slap my palm on the table. Patrick mumbles something under his breath but isn’t brave enough to say it out loud.
“I propose we cut the music department and add those funds to the athletic department,” some asshat suggests.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Squeezing my eyes shut as I feel the start of a headache begin. “Fuck no. Does anyone have something not completely ridiculous to bring to my attention or are you done wasting my time?”
Joe raises his hand and I cut him a glare, shaking my head no, because I know that dumbass is going to suggest something stupid like meatless lunches. Nothing wrong with that, unless it’s all you offer, in which I say,hell no. We offer those meals for students who choose to partake in that lifestyle, but I’m not forcing the whole school to eat tofu because it hurts poor Joe’s feelings over here. “Great. Meeting over. Enjoy your Saturday.”I know I will.
“You say no to everything,” Patrick accuses.
“No, Patrick. Only to stupid shit like tofu and turning back time fifty years, forcing kids to dress a certain way because seeing them wear whatever the fuck they want offends you.”
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. I stand, making my way to the door and out to the parking lot. With a smile on my face, because I know I ruined those pricks’ days. I mean, they ruined mine first, so it’s only fair. If I have to be miserable, so does everyone else.
* * *
I arrive at home,a rare smile gracing my lips as I walk through the doors, knowing the house is not only occupied by staff for once. I head up the stairs, making my way to my room, my smile quickly fading as I look to my empty bed. Where the fuck is she? I walk back out, going to the room I put her in, finding all her things gone.
I pull out my phone, rapidly sending off a text with little to no control.
Lincoln: Where are you, Doll Face?
Lincoln: I’m not even close to being finished with you.
Lincoln: If you’re not back in the next hour, I’m going to punish you.
And then I send another text after that one.
Lincoln: And you won’t like it.
After an hour passes, I lose it, feeling a little desperate. Because what if I hurt her? Scared her off?
Lincoln: Callum…
My messages go unread.
* * *
I sitat my desk Monday morning, tapping the wood with my favorite red pen as I stare at nothing in particular. My anticipation builds with thoughts of seeing her soon. Knowing when she looks at me as I teach the class, she’ll remember our encounter. The way I fucked her like a man who was dying. I don’t remember the last time I fucked with passion. Or if I’ve ever fucked with that much.
But when fifth period comes around and she’s a no-show, my resolve snaps.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Journal entry: I’m like an addict, one taste and I was done for.