5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Noah
W atching her walk away, something dark and primal stirs within me, a twisted flame igniting as I replay the image of her reddened neck in my mind.
By chance, I stepped outside, and that’s when I saw it. The boy’s hands were all over her, shoving her against the wall, trapping her in a vulnerable, defenseless position. My body was locked in place, tense with the urge to tear him away from her. But then I saw it, the kiss.
It’s almost too much to bear.
I could’ve grabbed the back of his head and ripped him away from her by his hair right then and there.
His hand wrapped around her throat, tightening with possessive intent. His lips devouring hers, those plump pink ones, like he owns her. His other hand moving to her hip, pushing her shirt up, his fingers grazing her skin in a way I can't stand.
I see this kind of shit all over campus, students tangled up in each other, oblivious to the world around them. But why the hell does it feel so different when it’s Ana? Why does it feel like I’m ready to rip him apart?
And then, when I see the flash of fear in her eyes as he pulls away, something shifts inside me. The urge to beat the hell out of him morphs into something darker, something more violent, an instinct I never knew I had.
What the hell is happening to me?
Why the hell am I even considering the idea of touching a student like that? It doesn’t make sense.
This isn’t who I am.
But somehow, I take a sick, twisted satisfaction in seeing her so nervous around me. It churns something deep inside, something dark I can’t quite control. The worst part? I don’t even know why it excites me.
The darkest corners of my mind twist further, spiraling downward.
What would I find if I slipped my hand down her front, past those black sweatpants? What would it feel like to touch her there, to feel her pussy slick from my fingers?
Would she be soaked with anticipation from that bastard ex of hers or from someone else?
The thought makes my stomach tighten, something sharp and possessive lurching inside me. And that… that’s the real problem.
The fact that I already know which answer I’d prefer, that’s a problem in itself. It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t even be considering it.
But I am.
I don’t want to acknowledge it. I can’t. Not for a single second.
It’s just one encounter. Outside of the classroom. Nothing more.
She’s a defiant woman, tangled in her own mess of issues, and I am her teacher. There are lines.
I can’t cross them.
The last thing I need is to get pulled into her world, to get tangled up in something I can’t undo. She has to stay at arm’s length. She has to.
I force myself to push these thoughts away, but they linger, like shadows creeping closer, threatening to consume me if I let them.
I flip my wrist, glancing at my watch, desperately trying to focus on something else—anything else.
"Maybe some coffee will help clear my mind," I mutter to myself, the words hollow, the storm in my head still raging, waiting to swallow me whole.
The staff room mirrors the extravagance of the rest of the school. In terms of finances, the school seems to have no limit, as if its only concern is creating an image of wealth and prestige. The brand-new couches, sleek kitchenware, and high-end coffee makers make the space feel less like a simple break room and more like a small, upscale apartment.
I pour myself a large mug of coffee, the rich scent filling the air. Pressing the hot ceramic against my skin, the warmth seeps through, grounding me, forcing my thoughts to steady and focus.
“She does that when she’s hungry, baby,” a female voice purrs softly, almost teasing. “Echo warned you what days off would look like when I’m not home.”
I turn, meeting the gaze of a pretty brunette holding her phone, her lips curling into a playful smile as she notices me. She gives a soft wave, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“No, Roman. You can’t give her sweets. She’s trying to trick you. She knows her daddy will do anything for her, and you’re falling for it,” she laughs, a light, easy sound as she rummages through the counter.
Using a quick glance, I grab another mug, lifting it toward her, raising my brows in a silent question.
She nods eagerly, mouthing a quiet "thank you" in return.
“New teacher?” she asks with a smile, her tone warm and inviting.
“One of the new English teachers,” I answer, extending my hand toward her in a polite, professional gesture.
She scrunches her nose, rolling her eyes playfully as she takes my hand. “Roman, hush. I’ll see you both when I get home-"
She stops mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The sudden shift in her demeanor catches me off guard.
"You can’t just say something like that-" she stammers, clearly rattled by whatever was said on the other end of the phone.
Even from where I’m standing, I hear the loud, "Love you, Angel," spill from the speaker. It’s unmistakable that what he just said is far from school appropriate.
Her eyes flicker to the black phone screen in her hand, and she lets out a frustrated huff, as if this is a familiar pattern.
"Eden Briar," she says with a grin, a playful edge to her voice. "That lovely man on the other line is my husband, and he still hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea of me having male co-workers." She laughs, flashing a large, dazzling sparkler on her ring finger.
Any man who can afford a ring that big in Spokehaven isn’t someone to underestimate.
I stay silent, letting her words hang in the air. But she catches the amusement in my eyes and lets out a soft laugh, clearly entertained by her husband’s possessiveness.
"Damn it, Roman," she mutters under her breath. Pulling her phone out again, she quickly shoots off a text, her fingers moving with practiced speed. "I swear, he’s the reason the whole male staff avoids me like the plague."
With a hand resting on her hip, she flashes a grin that’s both confident and teasing.
"Don’t worry," she adds, her voice light, "he’s all bark, no bite."
I doubt that.
Something about the way she says it feels too practiced, too guarded.
"You’re new this year, right?" she asks, her curiosity piqued as she gives me a quick once-over.
"Yeah," I reply, offering a relaxed smile as the conversation shifts into safer territory.
"How are you liking Spokehaven so far?" she asks, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt as she leans slightly closer.
Startled, my eyes flick to her wrists, where a maze of old white scars runs up and down her skin.
Silent remnants of a past I can't ignore.
I can't help but stare, the reality of her vulnerability hanging between us.
She notices my gaze, and a subtle shift happens in her posture. She glances down at her arms, then meets my eyes. Her voice softens, her walls momentarily lowering.
"Don’t worry," she says quietly, "the stares are sort of the trade-off for having... extreme solutions to the pain of my childhood."
I feel a knot tighten in my chest.
The rawness in her words hits too close to home.
Trust me, I get it.
Rubbing my eyes, I shake my head, trying to dislodge the overwhelming thoughts swirling in my mind. It’s like a storm that won’t let up.
"I didn’t mean to stare," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My voice is full of honesty, almost too much. "So far, it’s.…"
I trail off, my throat tight as I try to find the right words. But there’s no clear answer, not when my thoughts keep drifting in all the wrong directions.
Hell.
I can’t even finish the thought without realizing where my mind is headed.
I’m having sexual urges toward one of my students. One I can’t seem to shake.
"New," I manage, my voice quieter than I’d like. It’s like I’m barely holding it together. "It’s all very new to me."
She laughs, a sound that’s easy and free, but it only sends a wave of panic through my chest.
"Well, I’m sure you’re a huge hit with the female students," she says, her grin mischievous.
My heart stutters.
"Why would you say that?" The question slips out before I can stop it, and I instinctively tug at the collar of my shirt, as if the simple gesture could shield me from the awkwardness I can’t escape.
"You’re a young teacher," she says, raising an eyebrow, her gaze knowing in a way that makes my skin itch. "Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of being attracted to people I shouldn’t," she adds with a laugh, like it’s no big deal.
She reaches for one of the complimentary muffins by the coffee pot, taking the cup I had poured for her with a gracious smile. The casualness of her actions only amplifies the tension building between us.
"My husband was my priest, after all," she adds, her smile widening.
I can’t help but grin, a light, incredulous laugh escaping me. "You’re joking."
"Not in the slightest," she says, her grin widening even more, mischief dancing in her eyes. "I totally get it if you want to give me a high five for that one," she adds with a playful wink.
Maybe I’ll have a friend here after all.
"I think I’d rather not find out what happens to me if your husband finds out I high fived you," I say, my hesitation clear in my voice, the words laced with an edge of unease.
"Now you’re learning," she grins, biting into the muffin with a satisfied crunch. "If you ever need to talk, I teach photography in the creative wing of the school."
I step back, my heart racing, but something shifts inside me, giving me the courage to ask the question that’s been gnawing at me.
"I did have one question."
She pauses mid-bite, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth as she looks at me, curious.
"Do you know anything about a student named Anastasia Burns?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but I’m sure it shakes just a little.
"Ana?" she repeats, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "She sits in the back of one of my classes. Not much of a talker. From what I’ve heard, she used to be exclusive with one of the top performers in athletics here-"
"Cole," I clarify, my voice barely above a whisper, a knot tightening in my chest.
"Right," Eden nods slowly, her gaze distant for a moment. "Cole. However, I don’t know much beyond that. Why do you ask?"
I scramble, my thoughts racing as I search for something that sounds believable. My palms sweat, and I push the words out before I lose the chance.
"She’s a bit mouthy in my class," I say, the lie tasting bitter as it leaves my lips. "I just wanted some context as to why that might be."
Eden shrugs nonchalantly, giving me a slight nod, as if it’s not an unusual question to ask. But then her expression softens, and she looks at me with a knowing smile.
"You remind me of myself," she says, her voice carrying a hint of something distant and reflective. "Back in college."
"How so?" I ask, unable to hide my curiosity, even as a strange unease coils in my stomach.
She looks at me for a moment, her smile lingering, before her gaze drifts to the floor. "I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling you would’ve understood Roman and I a lot more than others did at the time."
She doesn’t elaborate, the silence stretching between us, leaving a chill in the air. Her words hang there, unspoken but heavy, like a secret I wasn’t meant to hear.
And I stand there, consumed by a wave of guilt, my mind drifting to darker places, where the silence around me only amplifies the chaos inside.