Chapter 2

"Did everyone find a partner?"

Thirty pairs of young, expectant eyes watched me approach. I faltered. Make that thirty-one. My searching gaze caught on Lacie Lennard. The college student's grin was that of a cat about to get the cream.

Ah, crap.

She looked around in consternation, droopy eyebrows and all. "I don't have a partner, Ms Hale." The lower lip pushed forward in a pout. "I could try to work on my own, but I think I would need some special attention to do it."

Her emphasis on the word made some of the other students roll their eyes. Wild red hair, tight red coverall, and … well, she'd clearly never heard of the first rule of cleavage. It's where and when you show, not how low you…

Nope, not going there.

I carefully kept my eyes above chin level, but the urge to fidget was getting stronger. First that scene with Ms Renaud yesterday and now this. It appeared that the universe had conspired to drop me into awkward situations. Lacie didn't leave my thoughts so severely scrambled, but a dose of inner peace she was not.

I glanced down at the student roster. "I thought there was an even number of students in this class?"

"Not since Phyllis joined, Ms Hale."

I furrowed my brows, spying the unknown girl with a button nose in the third row. "Well, if the curriculum convinced her to switch to art history, then I have no objections." I should've just kept my mouth shut.

Lacie leaned forward and put a hand under her chin, a pearly smile peeking out between her lips. "Oh, it wasn't the curriculum that convinced her."

The students tittered, and poor Phyllis looked like she wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it. I could relate, I really could. Lacie had clearly invited her with an agenda: becoming the odd one out and receiving special attention. Namely my own.

I walked toward the lectern where I took the exercise sheet out of my bag. How the hell could someone be so young and already so damned confident? The anxiety gripped me a little more forcefully with my back to the class, but I managed to take a much-needed breath.

They're your students. They're young. Don't let them rattle you.

I repeated the mantra in my head before consciously relaxing my death grip on the paper and turning around. Focusing on the redhead, I said, "While it's not ideal that you don't have a partner, it would be unfair to everyone else if you had me helping you. For now, you'll have to tag along with another group."

Boundaries. It was all about boundaries. And maybe just a little bit of luck. And if that didn't work…

It can't be that hard to get one more student to switch to art history, right?

I forced my lips into a smile and went on to explain the assignment, never lingering long on any one face. Focusing on the facts and less on the social interaction always helped in overcoming the awkwardness. But the plump frown staring at me from the first row only emphasized the unresolved problem.

Lacie was infatuated, and, no doubt, used to getting what she wanted. Two weeks of heated looks and flimsy after-lecture questions, and I'd done my best to stay as neutral as the Swiss. I wasn't interested in being someone's flavour of the month. And the notion of crossing professional lines was not something I would ever entertain. Still, it was a little depressing that the only woman who'd given me such a look in years was my nineteen-year-old student.

Suddenly, green eyes with unfairly long eyelashes invaded my mind. That glint had done things to my stomach that ranged somewhere close to the criminal. I firmly squashed the image. Emmanuelle Renaud was the last person I should be thinking about.

I began distributing the exercise sheets, answering questions while I walked between the rows of the wooden tables. My new red sneakers thudded on the smooth surface of the grey floor, but luckily the whispering in the room made it barely audible. I didn't like being the centre of attention; learning the ropes of being a teacher was counterintuitive. The material came naturally, but this blunt exposure made me question my choices.

The redhead"s gaze followed me the entire time I walked through the stuffy classroom. The smell of chalk began clogging my nostrils, or maybe it was the lingering embarrassment. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans. It didn't do much because when I finally approached Lacie's group, the level of discomfort went up another notch.

"We're struggling to make this impressionist. Do you have any suggestions?" Hannah asked as I tried to ignore Lacie.

"Impressionism, like most art, is all about interpretation," I replied. "But imagine it as taking your view of something to a whole new level. It's about expressing your feelings or your idealization of what something looks like, rather than a flat-out perfect photocopy of what you see."

A muffled voice behind me whispered, "I know what Lacie's imagining right now, and she doesn't need a photo."

I twitched. The two students snickered. And indeed, when I glanced to the side, the girl hurriedly looked away from where her eyes had wandered.

"Can we get feedback about our chosen topic before we start?" Landon, the student to my right, saved me from having to react. "I would hate to put in all the work, and then the topic turns out to be a bust."

Hah. Harry was right. What did he call it? Typical first-semester vibes?

I nodded. "Yes, of course. I know you're all still finding your footing. I'm always available during office hours. And if I'm off-campus, just shoot me an email, and I'll get back to you."

While the rest of the group settled contentedly back into their chairs, Lacie's self-indulgent smirk said it all. I inwardly prepared myself to receive some very pointed emails in the near future.

I returned to the lectern after answering the last pressing questions, pleased to note the level of excitement. I knocked on the desk to get everyone's attention.

"Now, that we've all partnered up, let's use the last sixty minutes to start the assignment. I expect you to give this serious thought, and not just because it will make up a good portion of your grade. This is a great opportunity to challenge yourself. Try getting out of your comfort zone, find out what matters to you, and most important of all…" I made a dramatic little pause before grinning. "I dare you to have some fun."

The students seemed to take to the task, and it meant I was free of Lacie for the rest of class. Having less of her attention on me settled my nerves, and it was easier to remember why I'd agreed to sub in as a teacher in the first place.

After class ended, I found myself in the corridor outside, noticing that a shoelace came loose from my new sneakers. Setting my bag on the ground, I crouched to retie it. Luckily, I didn't have to dodge a rush of oncoming students as I had stopped to the side and just behind the door.

"Did you see the way Lacie was eyeing Ms Hale?" The male voice was subdued but close. My hands froze over the shoe at hearing my name, even before the topic registered.

"Oh my god, that was seriously hilarious. Could she be any more obvious? She did everything but rip off her shirt in there."

"Totes, man. Lacie's like a cat on the prowl, and Hale's the bait. I'm almost sorry that class ended. I could have binge-watched that shit all day."

My neck flushed.

Oh, god.

There was a deep chuckle. "I don't know, man, the girl's more a black widow if you ask me. Something about that smile is sinister."

"Sinister or simply hungry? Wouldn't surprise me if Lacie wanted to devour her in every. Possible. Way."

Now, both were guffawing.

The blush darted up to my cheeks, and I sprang into action, trying to tie my shoelaces in a rush. If I'd been uncomfortable before, it was no comparison to how I felt now. The girl's advances were bad enough, but being the laughingstock of the whole class because of it? Could this become any more mortifying?

Their footsteps halted, and I heard a locker open. In my haste to leave, I messed up the bow and knotted the wrong ends together. I silently swore. I just wanted to be gone. Far away. Maybe Siberia. I would quite happily settle for Oakland or even a damned African desert for that matter. Simply anywhere but here!

"Yeah, but honestly"—the person who had spoken first became serious—"while it's kind of entertaining, it's also a bit of a cringe fest. And Hale's obviously not interested in having Lacie's boobs shoved under her nose."

The student snickered. "She looked like she'd just run into the dean at a nudist beach."

"I know, right? She's so awkward, and Lacie really should stick to people more her type … and age range. I mean, Jesus Christ, Hale is what, forty?"

Not for another ten years, you cheeky, little…

"Dude, it's clear the girl doesn't care. At least, Hale isn't married." There was a pause. "Or is she? I never noticed a ring."

"We could always check her out on social media," the other one suggested.

My jaw dropped open.

Seriously?

Even despite my laced bow being super ugly, I straightened up and fished my bag from the ground, dead-set on escape. And it wasn't one second too early, as I heard the tap, tap of steps coming my way.

I picked up my feet, scrambled for composure, and used my five-foot-nine height to stride down the hallway. While I did, I asked myself if there was some handy way to trigger retrograde amnesia. Maybe then I wouldn't be so tempted to bash my head against a locker to expunge every word I'd just heard.

Through the row of windows to my left, I could see that the green lawn in front of the campus was quickly filling with people. The large red-brick building with the white steeple could house a dizzying number of people. No one could say that the Rhode Island School of Design—the RISD, for short—lacked a classical chic.

Instead of heading any closer to the forming crowds outside, I took a right at the next crossing. Beelining to the abandoned classrooms, I firmly told myself that I wasn't giving in to the urge to hide. I was just in dire need of refilling my batteries.

Accepting the substitute teacher position was one thing. But dealing with lustful infatuation and then finding out the whole class was observing my awkward avoidance dance? Everyone being in on the joke while I was the joke?

And that wasn't even the half of it. What if no other student signed up to pair with Lacie? Would a mob of students form to protect my innocence from the so-called black widow? Or would they rather grab some popcorn and sit down to enjoy the show?

Wringing my sweaty hands around my bag, I resolved to find a solution for this. I had to find a solution for this. Running into Emmanuelle Renaud and appearing like a slow-witted fool was bad enough. I had absolutely no aspirations to be the laughingstock of my students for the rest of the semester.