Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“There’s not a problem, Mr. Carter. I’m sorry we interrupted your class. Louisa was just giving me a present for my birthday on Friday. I’ll be eighteen. Totally legal. I mean, an adult.”
Oh God, why am I still talking? Now Mr. Carter is practically scowling at me, and somehow, I’ve only managed to irritate him even more. How is it possible this man can make me shiver with a single look from across the room?
“Louisa, take your seat.” He returns to the front of the classroom. “Are there any other disruptions that can’t possibly wait until school hours finish?”
Nobody volunteers for that suicide mission, so Mr. Carter walks to the door to shut it. Once he’s satisfied with the tomblike state of the room, he continues. “Open your books to page sixty and retrieve your essays.”
Everyone shuffles around in their bags and pulls out their things while I quietly look through my binder one more time. But there’s nothing. Nada. I’m so fucked. I open my book to page sixty and hope by some miracle he won’t notice, but I should know miracles in his class don’t exist.
“Stella LeClaire, you’re first. Stand and read your essay to the class.”
A bead of sweat tickles the back of my neck as I remain in my seat, unmoving. It’s bad enough that I have to say it out loud. I don’t want to stand while I do it.
“Is there a problem?” He slides a pencil between his masculine fingers. Fingers that could so easily crush that frail instrument, and me.
“I don’t have my assignment, sir. I’m sorry. It appears that it went missing from my bag at lunch time.”
“It appears you seem to be full of excuses,” he bites back. “In fact, from what I’ve gathered over the last week, Miss LeClaire, you don’t seem ready to put in the effort required for this class. So why are you even here?”
His words sting, and I swallow down the shame I feel as I try to find an answer to that question. But the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing in this class, or any of the others. Or where I’m supposed to go to college. Or what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. And it’s all too overwhelming to think about. So instead, I remain silent. A silent participant in my life. And every day, I die a little more inside. Does Sebastian see it? Does he care?
“Take the day to consider it,” he says. “And only come back again when you are prepared.”
With that cold dismissal, I have my answer.
BY THE TIME detention rolls around, I’m strung tighter than a fiddle. Mr. Carter waits for me inside, silent and apathetic to my obvious emotional plight as I sit down in the desk directly facing him. I take two deep breaths and work up the courage to plead the case that I’ve been preparing over the last two periods.
“Mr. Carter?”
He barely acknowledges me, instead, keeping his attention on the stack of papers in front of him. “Yes, Miss LeClaire?”
“Stella,” I correct. “Okay, I’m just Stella. You know this. I know this.”
He drops his pen and looks up at me. “You might want to think twice about whatever you’re about to say.”
“You had your thumb on my lips,” I tell him. “I felt your body against me. I kneeled before you. So, I think we can skip the formalities from now on, can’t we?”
The corner of his lip turns up in predatory amusement. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Stella?”
“No, of course not. I just want to talk to you without feeling…” I wave my hands around, trying to convey my emotions. “Like this. I know you’re still mad at me about the pond, and you’re punishing me for it. That’s what today in class was about, wasn’t it?”
“Today in class was about you not being able to stand up for yourself.” He clips the words out, and then instantly looks as if he regrets them.
“You wanted me to out Louisa in front of the entire class?” I ask in disbelief. “Why not just give her a loaded shotgun while I’m at it.”
“Girls like Louisa win as long as you let them.”
“And what would you have done had I outed her?” I challenge. “Humiliate me in front of the entire class?”
“I would have punished her.”
The way he says punished her sends an irrational jolt of jealousy through me, and I don’t like it. I don’t like thinking of Mr. Carter punishing anyone else. Or touching anyone else. In my mind, those things are only for me. He can see it on my face, and he likes it. He likes my jealousy. He likes it so much I bet his cock is hard beneath his desk right now, and all I can think about is crawling to him to worship at his feet and beg for forgiveness.