Chapter 26 Anna
Anna
April has been sending the group chat the most adorable photos of Elliott and I can’t stop staring at them, zooming in on his tiny nails and chubby cheeks.
I’m drenched in a good mood this morning.
As I step off the Underground and walk toward school, I pop in my headphones, trying not to think about the fact that I haven’t heard from Liam since dropping him off on Saturday morning.
Not that I expected to, I just don’t know what the normal protocol is.
Do I text first? How long do we wait before we see each other again?
I get through another day of school, exhausted by the time five o’clock rolls around. The kids are like Energizer bunnies at the start of the week, bouncing off the walls after their weekend freedom; it’s a task to keep up with them.
The staff room is eerily quiet when I slip in to check my pigeonhole. Most teachers have already left for the day. I’m rifling through a stack of papers when I hear the door click shut behind me.
“Working late again, Anna?”
I turn to find Roger, leaning against the door, his hand still on the handle.
“Just grabbing some forms,” I say, keeping my voice neutral as I move toward my handbag on the center table, shoving the papers inside.
He positions himself between me and the exit. “I was hoping we could have a chat about Friday night.”
Friday night. The awful drinks at the pub, which Liam thankfully fucked out of my memory until now.
“What about it?” I ask, slipping the papers into my bag.
“I had a really good time. It was nice getting to know each other outside work.” He nods to himself. “Really nice.”
I stifle a snigger. He didn’t get to know me at all: he didn’t ask me a single question about myself.
“It was just a drink, Roger.”
“It felt like more than that to me… the way we talked, the connection we had . . .”
This man is delusional if he thinks we have an iota of chemistry.
“I think you misread the situation,” I reply calmly.
He lets out a low, mocking laugh. “I doubt that.”
I sigh, turning away to busy myself, paying extra attention to organizing my belongings, when I hear another click from the doorway.
The happy cocoon from this morning quickly unravels, thread by delicate thread.
I lift my head, ice seizing my insides when I see he’s latched the door.
My pulse hammers as he takes slow steps toward me.
What’s he doing? He’s always retreated every other time I’ve brushed him off. But something about the hard, flinty look in his eyes and the grave tone of his voice causes me to pause. Because this? This feels different.
My eyes bounce between him and the exit. I’m suddenly aware of how alone we are in here.
“Roger . . .” I say, my voice hitching. “Why did you lock the door?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets as he moves, tipping his head to the side. “I’ve been patient with you… more than patient, actually. Don’t you think? You keep blowing me off, but I saw how you looked at me on Friday. You can drop this little hard-to-get act.”
“The way I looked at you? What are you talking about? I was literally across the table from you.”
His lips twitch for a second before he smooths his expression.
Shit.
“Come on, Anna.” His voice drops low as he advances. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it too.” He lifts his hand and I go statue-still, every muscle locked tight as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “The chemistry between us.”
Has he always been this tall? This imposing?
“I didn’t feel anything, Roger.” My voice comes out small.
“No?” He’s close enough now that I can smell his aftershave.
Old Spice. I almost gag from the acidic scent mixed with something sour.
Everything about this feels wrong. His voice, his touch, his cologne, the way he’s looking at me like I’m prey.
“Because from where I was sitting, watching you smile and laugh at my jokes”—his eyes dip to my cleavage—“it felt a lot like chemistry to me.”
I jolt when my back hits the storage shelves behind me. I didn’t realize he’d been backing me across the room. I didn’t even register my feet moving.
Everything inside me screams to run but I can’t move.
I pull my head back as far as I can to create distance, but he just leans in closer.
“Please step back,” I say, heart thumping.
He hums. “Are you just too afraid to admit you enjoyed yourself?” His eyes sweep over me in a way that makes me feel dirty, exposed. When I don’t respond, he lifts his hand again, running the back of his knuckles up and down my bare arm. “You’re a beautiful woman, Anna. So beautiful.”
“I have to go,” I whisper, unable to hear myself speak over the roar of blood pounding in my ears.
His hand travels up, his fingers tangling in my hair before his grip tightens, tilting my neck back. “Why are you playing so hard to get?” His voice is mocking.
“I’m not,” I choke out.
His eyes widen slightly. “Unless there’s someone else. Are you seeing someone, Anna?”
Moisture gathers in my eyes. “N-no.”
He arches a thick brow, barely hiding the amusement. “Ah.” He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “Who is he?”
I try to shake my head but his hand keeps me in place. I want to scream. I want to knee him in the groin, claw his eyes out, anything—but my feet feel cemented to the floor. My brain screams commands that my frozen body refuses to follow.
“One kiss,” he murmurs. “I looked after your class for you, Anna. I just want one kiss. Let me show you how good we could be—how good I can make you feel. Then I’ll let you go.”
Let me go? Bile burns in my throat and my lip wobbles. “O-one drink. That was the d-deal.”
His face descends toward mine. “Come on. Just one. Just to see . . .” His other hand grips my waist, his fingers digging in hard enough to make me wince. The touch snaps something inside me. I need to get the hell out of here.
MOVE, MOVE, MOVE.
The thought detonates inside me, slamming through my paralysis.
I manage to duck under his arm, crying out as his grip turns brutal and his lips graze my cheek. My shoulder crashes into him and he stumbles, but his hand stays clamped to my hair. I wrench myself free, strands tearing as I rip myself from his hold.
His hands drop to his sides and a horrified expression crosses his face, as if he’s only just realized what he’s done. What he almost did.
“Oh God. Anna, wait!” he calls after me, but I’m already scooping up my bag and bolting to the door, my fingers fumbling with the latch.
I can hear the rustle of his jacket as his footsteps quicken behind me. “Come on. Don’t be like that.” When I don’t slow down, a frustrated groan erupts from him. “Look, I’m sorry! Just stop for a second, please! It wasn’t what you think it was—”
I sprint down the empty corridor, hearing him call my name. I bolt through the school gate, around the corner, toward the Tube, heaving in deep breaths. My hands and knees shake as I run, my whole body trembling with shock and adrenaline.
I don’t look back. I can’t.
The run to the station passes in a blur.
I barely manage to hold myself together, frayed at the edges, threatening to unravel with every step.
By the time I reach my neighborhood, a flicker of relief ripples through me.
I force a weak smile to my neighbor as I push past her in the foyer, fumbling with my keys.
It takes three tries before the lock finally releases.
I stumble inside, slam the door behind me, and twist the deadbolt. Then I collapse.
The tears come in great, shuddering sobs that burst from my chest like something being torn out. I curl into a ball, my eyes squeezed shut. When I open them again, the flat is dark. The curtains are still open, but night has fallen.
I push myself up and twist the shower tap to scorching before stepping underneath.
I let the heat scour away the memory of his hands on my skin, feeling totally repulsed.
By the time I step out, my skin is red from scrubbing myself raw.
I’m desperate to erase every trace of him from my memory and body. I need to feel something else.
Gemma and Max have left for their trip, I refuse to ring my parents, and April has just had a baby . . .
My hands are unsteady as I grab my phone, finding his contact without hesitation. The ringing fills the silence.
“Hello?” he answers.
“L-Liam?” I say, my voice breaking.
“Anna?” His tone takes on an edge. “What’s wrong?”
I sniffle, whispering, “I think I need you.”