Page 5 of What Did I Miss?

Getting out on the thirty-third floor, she strides towards his apartment, ignoring the nerves tumbling in her stomach.

She knocks, then shoves her hands into her pockets, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Knocks again, breath hitching when she’s greeted by the dazzling eyes of a redhead in a lacy nightie that clings to every curve.

‘Hello. Can I help you?’ the mystery woman purrs.

The woman’s smile slips away as Makayla stands speechless. There’s no time to think, she needs to act. What she should say is, ‘Sorry, wrong place.’ That’s why when she opens her mouth, what comes out is, ‘I’m doing a survey for the government. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?’

‘Who is it?’ comes the melodic voice of another woman.

Run. Leave. Go!

Makayla’s flight response must be faulty because she does none of the above. The only action she’s capable of is dropping her jaw as a striking blonde joins them, showing more skin than a sphinx cat.

‘Sorry,’ Makayla squeaks, her feet finally cooperating. She needs to leave before Beau appears and invites her to join their party. She made a point of not including orgies on her list. The fewer witnesses to her inept bedroom skills, the better.

Inside the lift, she grips the handrail.

On the ride down, her ears thump and her mind swirls.

How could she let herself come here? Why did she believe Beau wanted to see her again?

Does she think she’s special? Who are those women?

They look like Victoria’s Secret models!

Why does the thought of them warming his bed tonight bother her?

Why is she having chest pains? Why can’t she breathe?

It doesn’t make sense. Beau’s clearly an elitist wanker who frequently needs his ego stroked by busty beauties.

The doors open, and she shakes her head. You fool . Men can’t be trusted. They lie through their teeth. She won’t make this mistake again.

Makayla marches along the South Wing hallway, shooing students outside to get fresh air.

She’s spent the week avoiding Beau, just in case his Playboy Bunnies ratted her out.

Enough already. No more walking around on eggshells.

She waits outside Room 10A until he dismisses Ebony from detention.

He keeps her in most days, never for reasons that justify forgoing a break.

Sinking further into his chair, he clasps his hands over his head like he’s bracing for impact. Makayla knows that position all too well. Most graduates don’t survive their first month, let alone a year. It’s a tough gig. No wonder half the faculty are alcoholics.

‘Catch!’ Makayla throws a muesli bar in his direction. ‘I figured you haven’t eaten.’

‘Thanks.’ He rips off the wrapper and demolishes the snack in three bites. ‘I was beginning to think you were ignoring me.’

An impeccably timed soccer ball rebounds off the window, saving her from having to reply.

She enters the classroom, which is as musty and drab as all the others.

Faded educational posters cover the cracks.

A bookshelf runs the length of the back wall, bursting with dusty out-of-date textbooks.

Beau’s neat, cursive handwriting covers the whiteboard.

The teachers at Cordington probably whacked his knuckles with a ruler to make him write like a fifteenth-century author.

‘How’s it going?’ Makayla hopes she sounds friendly, as though she chats to all the staff like this. Truth be told, she’s not a fan of small talk. Especially when it’s with someone who’s tested how far back her legs can go.

‘That girl is a nightmare.’ He blows air through his lips like a disgruntled horse.

‘Ebony? She’s not that bad. You might want to cut her some slack. She’s going through some stuff.’ That’s all Makayla will say. It’s taken four years to build a rapport; she won’t break Ebony’s trust unless legally bound.

‘We all have stuff going on. That’s no excuse for her to sit there like a potato. She’s miles behind. I don’t understand why everyone acts like her behaviour is acceptable. At least I’m doing something about it.’

As the year ten coordinator, this comment is obviously directed at Makayla. Who does Beau think he is? She’s been teaching for seven years; he hasn’t even made it to seven days. Makayla came here to make peace, but he can forget it. Mr Shepherd needs to be put in his place.

‘Okay, hotshot.’ She stands on the opposite side of his desk, palms flat against the timber, demanding full eye contact.

‘Last year, it was impossible to get Ebony to show up at school, and on the rare occasion that she did, she wouldn’t go to class.

Even now, she skips most. You should consider it a victory she’s attended English all week.

For Ebony, and many other Goldbrooke students, school isn’t just a place where they come to learn.

’ She stops, takes a breath. ‘I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. Someone like you wouldn’t understand.’

‘Someone like me?’ He blinks like it’s the first time he’s ever been called out on his privilege.

‘A person who grew up with rich parents and went to a la-di-da private school. You probably spent your twenties sunbaking in the Maldives or skiing in Switzerland, and then what happened, eh? Did you get bored, wake up one day and decide to become a teacher because, I don’t know, you thought it’d be easy?

You have no right to complain when you get to drive around in your flashy BMW and have threesomes in your fancy apartment. ’

Beau tilts his head the way her dog does when Makayla tells her there are no treats left.

‘Are you finished?’ he asks.

‘That tie is ridiculous. You look like a bank teller,’ she mumbles, crossing her arms.

‘I grew up in Sunville. Heard of it?’

Who hasn’t? It’s usually referred to as Scumville because it’s one of the worst crime areas in the state. Makayla fixates on her nails, willing herself not to pick at them. She doesn’t like where this is going.

‘I was raised by a single mother, who is a hard-working midwife, by the way. She didn’t make enough to send me to Cordington. But that’s okay, I ended up getting a scholarship. As you can imagine, it’s highly competitive. So, yes, I’m quite proud of myself for getting in.’

Makayla wants to curl into a ball the way Piper does when she sleeps on her lap.

‘I haven’t been sitting on my backside, unless you’re referring to my stint in the Army and the countless times I was deployed.

As for the car and the apartment, they’re my sister’s and her wife’s.

I was cat-sitting for them on the weekend.

Couldn’t you hear the damn thing clawing at the bedroom door? ’

Between her panting and moaning, she must have missed that detail. And several others, as it turns out. Ever since they met, she’s been convinced Beau was a certain type of person and now she has to recalibrate. Oh god. Did she really just lecture a war veteran about being lazy?

Beau tucks his hands into his pockets and Makayla flinches in anticipation of a tongue-lashing.

‘I don’t appreciate you making assumptions about me or raising your voice.’ He’s firm, yet oddly calm. ‘Next time, let’s work this out like adults. How does that sound?’

Makayla stares at him with wide eyes, like she’s spotted an alien.

She’s not used to having someone call her out, or act so mature.

Warren would have ripped into her and she would’ve bitten back.

They’d have sidestepped the issue and ignored each other for days, until one of them broke – usually Warren. Makayla was better at that game.

Digging deep to find her apology, Makayla offers a quiet, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Okay,’ he says, like he won’t throw it in her face later. ‘I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?’

‘I’d like that.’ She wants to prove she is civilised and not the tantrum-throwing toddler she was acting like moments ago.

‘Great. How about tomorrow night?’ he asks. ‘Italian? Japanese? Or—’

‘Dinner?’ she croaks. He truly is making an effort to move past this. And after her judgemental rant, she thinks, shouldn’t she do the same? ‘Sure. You pick. As long as it’s not too spicy.’

Beau turns around and wipes the board clean while Makayla’s brain plays catch-up.

Did she just agree to a date? No way. He simply meant it as two colleagues getting to know each other.

Which is perfect, because that’s what she wants too.

Then why do her toes have pins and needles?

Probably because sure, a six-pack and bulging biceps are nice, but a man who can communicate like an adult? Oof. That’s hot as hell.

Beau squints over his shoulder. ‘What did you mean before about,’ he glances at the door and whispers, ‘threesomes? What gave you that impression?’

‘Ah, nothing. It just popped out.’ He doesn’t need to know she visited what she thought was his apartment.

Beau breaks into a lip-biting grin, blue eyes sparkling. ‘I can’t quite work you out, Makayla. But I look forward to trying.’