"I guess you better get used to my face Mr Kane."
"It's not a pleasant one, but I'll get used to it."
. . .
REMAINING CHAPTERS ON INKITT!
When Lina Ta...
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He offered to lend a helping hand, a gesture that felt unfamiliar, given my past experiences. Having someone genuinely willing to assist me was a strange sensation, one that I hadn't encountered before.
"Name two measures that can be used to increase sputum production," Mr. Kane inquired, circling around me in his office. My fingers rushed through my hair as I pondered the question, searching for the right response.
"Physiotherapy and nebulised saline," I answered tentatively. His nod of approval felt like a small victory, and I couldn't help but smile. For the first time in two years, I felt a spark of intelligence.
"Give me another," he prompted, settling into his leather chair. My mind raced to come up with a third measure, but suddenly, it was as if my thoughts hit a roadblock. "You know the answer," he urged, his elbows resting on his office desk as he studied me with intensity.
"You said to give you two measures."
"And now I'm saying to give me three," he challenged, his gaze unwavering.
"Postural drainage," I ventured, unsure of my response. As he set the paper down, doubt crept in, and I began to second-guess myself. "Is that wrong?"
"I don't know, is it?" he countered.
"Well, the way you're acting makes me feel as if it is."
"So then is it wrong?" His persistence grated on my nerves, prompting an involuntary eye roll. "Did you just roll your eyes at me, Miss Tate?"
Damn it. Why did I let my irritation show? It was meant to be an internal reaction, and now he had caught me. My jaw tensed as he leisurely stood up from his seat.
"No," I replied, attempting nonchalance.
"And now you're lying to me." The low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, a mixture of frustration and a strangely enticing thrill. It was the way he looked at me.
A knock on the door shattered my trance, and Ms. Anderson walked inside. "Hello, Miss Tate, Mr. Kane - here are the exam papers for the mid-season test." I observed as Ms. Anderson handed over the stack of papers to Mr. Kane, their fingers brushing against each other. An unexpected irritation churned in my stomach at the subtle contact.
He placed the papers on his desk, creating a resonant 'thud' that reverberated through the room. "Thank you, Katherine," he acknowledged. She smiled and turned her attention to me.
"Church is starting soon, Miss Tate. Let's make our way together." Her hand gently touched my back as she guided me out of his office. However, I couldn't resist stealing a lingering glance back, witnessing him flicking through the pages
