Chapter 14

chapter

fourteen

ADDIE

"And angel? I can't fucking wait for that moment."

Phantom caresses dance along my bottom lip from where I felt Owen utter that sinful sentence. It was a promise and a challenge and a dare wrapped in one tempting package.

And the way his lips brushed against mine when the word "fucking" left his mouth was the bow on said package.

It was the only time in my life when I fully expected my ovaries to explode.

My phone releases its shrill alarm for the third time this morning, and I tap the snooze yet again.

I've never done this before. On a normal day, my alarm goes off once, and I shoot out of bed like someone tossed a grenade onto it.

But it's Monday, and I have no desire to kick off my morning routine with dancing in the shower to Taylor Swift, followed by enjoying a hot coffee while I get dressed for school.

Instead, I turn onto my back and blink at the ceiling while my alarm continues blaring as if I'm playing a game with myself to test how long I'm capable of enduring the god-awful sound before my eardrum bursts.

I tossed and turned for hours last night, and it wasn't because of the raging storm outside. The howling winds felt alive, shaking the foundation of my house. The rattling trees knocked against my window as if they were begging to be let in, like they weren't safe themselves out there.

None of the turmoil outside compared to the havoc inside.

All night, I was haunted by memories of Owen Conrad— the asshole .

I should've been taunted by the horrifying fact of knowing I came onto him, and he rejected me, but my subconscious was hearing none of that. No, my horny hoo-hoo wouldn't stop tingling to the mental soundtrack of Owen's growls, kisses, and scorching hot touches.

He pressed me against him until I could feel all of him, and dear, blessed Lord in heaven, what I felt between his legs was… huge.

And it was aimed right at me.

I miss the days when I didn't know such a thing about him. When I didn't yearn to feel his lips moving over mine. When I didn't wake up moaning his name and asking him to kiss me harder.

When I ran out of the room at the Buchanan House to rejoin the rest of the reunion, no less than three people asked why my cheeks were so red. Maren, the sweet saint of a woman, asked if the stress of the last week had finally gotten to me. She thought I'd exploded but didn't know it.

Maybe I did. Maybe that's the only reason I kissed my worst enemy.

Actually, my worst enemy at the moment is my aching, embarrassingly desperate core.

"Fuck Owen," I mutter, cursing him for the thousandth time since the reunion Saturday night.

I slap my phone until the alarm cuts off, and I toss the covers off me like a magician flips his cape around, as if to tell my bedroom "watch this trick." I kick my feet over and stand, ready to show up to school and act totally normal, my best feat yet.

With a huff, I square my shoulders and hold my head high as I launch into a shorter version of my morning routine, since I lobbed off twenty precious minutes from my schedule by stewing in bed.

Outside, leaves litter my front yard, along with random scraps and trash. A few cups caught onto my tall blades of grass at some point during the storm last night, and it's going to be a pain in my ass to clean up.

Next door, Scarlett climbs down her steps in leggings and running shoes, two pods nestled into her ears.

I make my way toward my car and toss up my hand in a wave, the cool morning breeze chilling my cheeks. "Was the storm really this bad last night?" I call out to her.

The young girl taps at her ear and pauses at the base of my driveway. "We got the best of it. Matilda's neighbor's flowers blew chunks all over her car. She DM'd me a picture of the disaster—it's a colorful massacre."

I snort. "Sounds like the name of a podcast."

"Are you using the mascara I brought over last week? Your eyes are on point today." Her swinging ponytail behind her head matches her enthusiasm.

Instinctively, I touch my fingertips to the corners of my eyes, heat flaring throughout my face. "I might've… tried it…"

"It looks great! Like you got a lash lift and tint without all the hassle, right? You should follow The Glamor Girlie on YouTube . She has all the best recommendations on makeup and hair products. I'll bring over some leave-in conditioner that'll change your life," she gushes, waving her hands in the air like they're the ones doing the talking.

"Do I need it?" I inspect the tips of my hair with newfound doubt and horror.

"Your hair is great and thick, but this magic just gives it a little oomph ."

"We can never have too much oomph ," I say and smooth my hair back into place over my shoulders, my tote weighing on me the more I stand here.

"You get it." With parting finger guns, she maneuvers around a large puddle and jets off onto her daily morning jog.

I slide into the driver's seat of my car and coo, "Please start for me today. You're a good car, yes you are."

Sweet-talking this lump of metal and leather has become part of my daily routine. As the gurgling engine crescendos to life, I check my makeup in the mirror overhead.

If Scarlett noticed the good mascara, so will others at work. Then again, it's possible she only commented because she's the one who gifted it to me. Plus, she's as prone to talking about such innocent things as she is gossiping about every racy scandal in town.

Why did I use the good makeup today? I always put my best foot forward when it comes to my appearance, but the fancy mascara might've been excessive for work.

But work isn't the reason I reached for the shiny new tube.

The real motive is more shameful than cursing in church or adding sugar to cornbread.

As I back out of my driveway, I grumble under my breath, scolding myself for trying too hard to get an irritating former baseball player's attention.

Suddenly, the obscene number of times I've cursed him doesn't seem like enough.

I turn onto Main Street and hiss, "Fuck Owen."

My shriek catches in my throat as I take in the current state of my classroom.

Last week, this was where dreams came to soar like butterflies, but right now, with a freaking tree smashed through the window and across one corner, the dream is dead—as dead as this innocent tree.

When I left my house this morning, I figured the worst thing that would happen to me when I arrived was running into Owen. I practiced and practiced my indifferent posture, along with my nonchalant expression, until confidence filled my bloodstream.

I did not expect this . This catastrophe is much worse than my situation with Owen Conrad.

"What happened?" I screech, my jaw unhinged. I scrunch my nose against the mix of smells ranging from the earthy scents to something like mold, and I blink rapidly to fight the dust filtering into my eyes.

Gemma places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "It's not as bad as it looks. It'll be an easy fix too, just a few weeks."

" Weeks ?" My heart rate spikes as my mind races with different scenarios coloring my vision.

I'm dizzy.

A few weeks is a long time, and what if weeks become months? Where are we supposed to hold class during all that time? What about my freaking coffee mug shattered into a million pieces on my ceiling-tiled, powder-covered desk?

"Have any other classrooms been affected?" another teacher asks, but I don't turn to confirm who it is.

Gemma explains, "As it stands, only Addie's and my classrooms have significant damages, since this tree fell from hers to mine, but a few windows along the hall have been shattered too."

"Good Lord, the repairs we'll need." The other teacher lists the necessary electrical work, the new roof, and the paint. "That's not to mention the tree removal itself and the inspections."

Sable clutches a few folders to her chest as she rushes up to us and announces, "I've been on the phone all morning with the Rotary Club regarding supplemental funds. The school board president and our superintendent have already been notified as well, and we're working diligently to get someone from tree removal out here today to start cleaning up this mess. Resources are stretched thin, though, as many other sites around town have also experienced damages."

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I'm speechless as my gaze travels over my classroom. The tree cuts across one corner, with its branches cascading into Gemma's drama classroom. On its own, it might not have been such a disaster, but since the winds were so strong last night, materials have been strewn about like the storm ransacked the place for money.

My favorite posters of literary characters and classic quotes lie in ruins on the floor. My SMART board rests against my desk, a large crack down the middle like a fault line, and highlighters, markers, and notebooks are scattered around the room in disarray.

It's an absolute crime against education and English and?—

"We have a plan!" Principal Weathers claps, and I whirl around to face him just as Owen strides up alongside him like a good little righthand guy.

The superintendent brushes past them, speaking sternly into the phone, and we garner an audience too. A few students pass by with their phones raised to capture the scene, hopping onto their tiptoes for a better look.

"Keep walking, please," Sable tells them. "There are glass shards and other debris you shouldn't be around."

They scurry off to the cafeteria, but not without sparing a few more glances.

I raise my hand but don't wait for Principal Weathers's acknowledgement before the words pour out of me. "Since it's my classroom that's suffered some of the most damage, I'd like to be involved in these plans."

Weathers clasps Owen on the shoulder. "I think you'll be pleased with the solution we came up with."

"You two came up with a solution?" I can't believe what I'm hearing, and we haven't even gotten to the details of this little plan!

But Owen's smirk is indication enough to know, without a doubt, that I'm not going to like this.

"Ms. Stephens, you'll set up in the auditorium. It only makes sense for the drama class to use the stage, anyway." He then turns to two other teachers with a smile, instructing one to use a section of the cafeteria and the other to share the music room.

I guess there has been more damage I wasn't aware of. Why didn't anyone call me to come in sooner? Actually, I would've arrived sooner on my own had I not spent an extra twenty minutes in bed, thanks to Owen and my annoying thoughts of his smoking-hot kisses.

I'm still lost in la-la- disaster land when Weathers turns to me, nudges Owen with his elbow, and proclaims, "You'll share the gymnasium with Coach Conrad."

My heart tumbles into my stomach, and if I thought my jaw was unhinged before, it's completely disconnected from the rest of my face now.

I raise a finger as my rapid breathing crosses the line into dangerous territory. "If I could say one thing, please."

"It's the perfect plan. We need to move on to other matters."

That's it? Is this really happening?

Weathers sidesteps me as he puts a phone up to his ear and maneuvers into the classroom, where the superintendent joins him and points to the ceiling. As he finishes up on the phone, Weathers turns to the remaining teachers, hands up with palm to palm. "I'll keep you updated with further news and instructions as needed. Thank you all for your cooperation."

Is he speaking English? I'm pretty sure he is, but then why don't I understand him?

"Hey, roomie!" Owen raises his hand for what appears to be a high five, but I dive underneath it and march straight past the office, tear across the lobby, and race through the cafeteria.

With my tote dragging across the dirty floor, I power walk past the blur of students eating their breakfast.

All the while, I repeat under my breath, "I am a professional."

I can share a space with Owen Conrad for a few weeks because I'm a damn professional. I care about my kids, and I will not let anything hinder their learning experiences, especially not someone like Owen.

I am a professional who can share a space with him without killing him… or jumping his bones.

The last thought skids into my mind as I wrap my hand around the handle of my car door, throw myself inside, and finally unleash the scream I've held back for the last two days.