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Chapter Eight

Hallie

T he moment I stepped into the office this morning, Tony thrust a coffee into my hand while his gaze roamed over my body appreciatively. Yet not one ounce of my body responded. Not like it did to his heated stare.

I mentally chastise myself for the hundredth time today. Stop thinking about him, Hallie.

“So, how about it?” He nudges me with his elbow.

My eyes flick over his face. “Huh?” I mean, sure, he’s cute, but he’s also very clean cut. Like my ex and so unlike the man who haunts my every thought.

I shake my head and try again, taking in the small dimples when he smiles and the way his blue eyes light up with kindness as he stares into my eyes. “I asked you out to dinner. How about it? Can you do tomorrow? We could grab pizza and catch up at Lance’s restaurant on Brick Street.”

My words won’t come out as my gaze roams over him. His hair is cropped short at the sides and longer on top, styled perfectly. His crisp light-blue shirt is open at the top, exposing his pristine bronzed skin, not a tattoo in sight, and my fingers don’t itch to explore it. He wears slacks like Gerrard, and his brown shoes are polished to perfection.

“I’m not sure,” I mumble.

He chuckles, and it does nothing for me while I remain rigid on the spot. “I know you’re apprehensive about the dating scene, Hallie. But come on, it’s dinner, no commitment, I swear. Just two friends getting to know each other outside of this.” He looks over his shoulder toward the mayhem of the teacher’s lounge, and I laugh and finally agree.

“Okay.”

He rears back slightly and searches my face with wide eyes. “Yeah?”

I bite into my lip and nod, and the way his eyes dance as an excitable expression covers his face has me smiling back at him. He is kind of cute.

“Okay. I’ll text you the time.” His smile grows wider, and I already regret agreeing.

“Okay,” I mumble.

As he steps closer like he’s going to pull me toward him, I retract, causing a laugh to rumble from him as he throws his hands up. “Okay, I’ll break down those walls, Hallie. Trust me.” He winks as he backs away, and the smile I plastered on my face falls as he turns. In all honesty, I don’t want the carefully constructed walls breaking down.

I want them smashed the way Rocco did.

Then he turns his head over his shoulder. “Oh, you have a new student today too. Check your email, and good luck.” He grimaces, making me react with a genuine chuckle for the first time.

I lift my laptop bag to my shoulder and throw open the office door and make my way toward class.

The hallways are chaos as usual, but as the bell rings, it dissipates and silence fills the corridors, bringing me solace as I make my way toward the first lesson of the day.

This is what I love, outside of my home and family. This is my passion. Something Gerrard never understood. I insisted on making a career for myself and not depending on him. Something he’s always resented me for.

Over the years, he humored me, allowing me to pursue the relevant college courses, but whenever I mentioned actually working, he balked, telling me I was where I was always meant to be. At his side, being the perfect housewife. He never had any intentions of letting me thrive outside of his ridiculous ideology.

I throw open the classroom door, and the hushed voices of my students send a wave of confidence through me. They respect me, simply because I respect them, and with that mutual respect, it has created a relationship I can be proud of.

Some students in this class are new to me this year, but I intend to build the same relationship and reputation with them as I have since I arrived here.

I place my coffee on the desk and unpack my laptop, then start it up as I lift my head to address the room.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Ms. Davis. I will be your English teacher this year.” They hang on my every word, and I bask in it. “Some of you have transferred to my class, and I’m honored to have you here, but I also need you to know this class is not going to be an easy ride. You will be expected to put in the work to achieve your expected grades. If you’re not willing to do so, there’s the door.” I point toward the door. “Don’t be afraid to use it, because I won’t be.” I clap my hands. “Now that that’s out the way, let’s get down to business. We have a new student to welcome.” I glance down at the name sitting in my email and jolt as my eyes register his first name. Can the universe really hate me so much he named a kid after the guy who haunts my dreams? I shake my head to banish the ridiculous notion and scan over the classroom in search of the boy in question. “Rocco Marino.”

All eyes turn toward a desk at the back of the room, and when I zero in on the student, the air is stolen from my lungs. My organs twist to the point of pain because staring back at me is the man who worshipped my body and delivered me so many orgasms I collapsed. The same man who unlocked something inside of me I never knew existed, and I want to devour but also swipe the cocky smirk he’s wearing from his smug, edible face.

He’s a student.

Holy shit, he’s my student.