I press my forehead against the cool desk and squeeze my eyes shut, seeking comfort. I don’t want to hear him talk. I especially don’t want to hear him talk about secrets. About our secret. I don’t want to hear that what we’re doing is wrong. My only comfort is that Pierce doesn’t normally voice his opinions in class.
“I think secrets are morally corrupting.” A girl, Jasmine, pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose in a huff.
“There’s not even one person in this world that doesn’t have secrets,” Schwartz, Benton Herring’s friend, says loudly. I chance a look at Benton himself. He’s gone all quiet now. I’m not surprised, yet I am.
He and Christian? Really? Shit. But he seems so…douchey.
“Miss Stringer?” Pierce asks. I shake my head solemnly.
“No need to shake your head. You haven’t been offered anything. You’re required to contribute to the debate,” he says coolly. I maintain my position. Literally and figuratively. My body is stiff and ready for battle. My heart, on the other hand… it feels like it has already lost.
“I’m not feeling well, Mr. James. I think I need to go to the nurse.”
I start to get up when he says, “You’re not excused.”
“Excuse me?” I ask. Ironically, I should point out.
“I said you’re not excused. You’re staying here. Yes? Hannah? I see you raised your hand.”
Hannah begins to talk, and I glue my ass back to my seat, wondering what the hell is going on.
“Secrets scare me,” Hannah says. “What if they come out? A lot of people can get hurt.”
“Secrets are human nature. We all want to keep some things to ourselves.”
“Secrets can get you killed.”
“Secrets are what keeps this world moving.”
“Secrets…”
“I don’t want any secrets in my life,” I announce, out of nowhere. I’m folding my arms across my chest now, looking resolute. “Secrets make you feel…dirty. And alone.”
“Are you saying that you don’t have any secrets?” Pierce strokes his chin like he is deep in thought, and even though his voice is light and aloof as always, I know that the answer to this question holds a special weight for him. I play along, looking him dead in the eye.
“Not anymore.”
“Is that so?” he asks. Again conversationally, but this time I see the flash of irritation in his eyes. Maybe even hurt.
I nod.
“I don’t think I could ever give up my secrets.” Another girl, Amanda, giggles nervously. But Pierce is still looking at me and I’m still looking at him. The bell rings. Neither of us budges. Students begin to collect their stuff. Mikaela stays in her place. The tension is tangible and heavy in the classroom. Both she and I are waiting to see how he is going to react to what he saw earlier in class.
“You both get off with a warning,” Pierce says, pretending to go through the papers on his desk. I almost choke on my tongue. Mikaela looks between him and me, not moving an inch. She looks too shocked to be a bitch, so at least I have that going for me.
“Am I… Is she…” She points at me, and I know that she hasn’t done anything wrong per se, but I still want to kill her for it.
“Don’t test me, Miss Stephens. I don’t know what happened today, and frankly, I won’t lose sleep wondering. But I’ll tell you one thing…” His voice is low and menacing. “This is your last chance. Keep the drama off campus and especially out of my class, and we won’t have any problems. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Mikaela nods eagerly, too relieved to question him, as she gathers her things. I, on the other hand, am pissed.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mikaela looks at me with wide eyes, afraid that I’m going to make Pierce rethink his decision, and Pierce looks at me with a blank, bored expression. “She fucking attacks me in class and gets off with a warning? This is bullshit!” Why would he do that?
“You can leave, now, Mikaela. It seems Miss Stringer wants her punishment right now.” He says it almost playfully, and despite my outrage, my panties are damp again. Oh, shit.
The door closes behind Mikaela, and I’m still looking at my desk. This is all so stupid. If he is actually going to punish me, I am going to lose my shit on him. But right now, getting suspended is not even on my mind. Something else is, and I bet it’s throbbing between his legs.
He slings his arm over his chair and stares at me, sitting down with his legs spread. More like a student, less like a teacher. Every inch of him like a man. My lower belly tumbles, and yet again I wish he wasn’t so easy to look at.