The Teacher

7: WREN

There were so many things that had gone wrong over the weekend—a sign of how my life was about to be turned upside down. Yet I ignored it—I ignored all the signs. I didn't want to think about anything after Skylar dropped me off on Sunday night. The car ride was awkwardly quiet, and then yesterday, Richard was texting and calling my phone nonstop. Each time went unanswered—Skylar has put me in a position I hate to be in.

When I told Yiyi what happened, she found it absolutely hilarious. I'm happy one of us can find the humor in this all. I didn't want anything to do with Richard and now he believes the fate of his company is in my hands. My thought process is if I ignore him long enough he will get the hint and stop.

My thought process is always shitty. I made it halfway through the week before my phone was going off every other hour—yet again.

"Fucking hell," I mumble, snatching my phone off the coffee table. It's Richard again. Fuck it.

"Hello?"

"Wren, it's me, Richard."

No shit Sherlock. "How can I help you?"

"Did you go over my business proposal? If you are home, I can come over and go over it with you. Explain some things in detail." He tries to sound cool, but I know he is desperate at this point.

"It's eleven at night, and you are talking about coming to my house. What would your wife think?"

"It's about business, she would understand."

"How nice of her to be so understanding, but my fiancé isn't. So no, you can't come over, and I would appreciate it if you didn't call me, especially after 4 pm. Now Richard, if and when I get to your proposal Mr. Styrke would be the one to call you, not me." I ended the call. Tomorrow I will have to set up a fake meeting to get Skylar at the school because this needs to end. I never asked for his help, nor do I need it.

I pick back up my Kindle, reading yet another domineering CEO smutty romance novel. I wish I could trade places with the female lead, Allison. Her sex life is something I envy. My free hand roams down my body slowly until my fingertips reach my clit. This is what my life has to succumb to—getting off while reading smut—almost every night. I don't see anything wrong with it, but sooner or later, I will need the real thing.

But men in books are better.

After last night's pleasure reading session, I have a little pep in my step as I walk into Ellington Prep. A few teachers, I'm cordial with a smile as we say our good mornings, and then there is Zanita Reed. Ever since I started working here, she has hated me for some odd reason. I don't know why, and I don't plan on trying to figure out why, either. If someone hates you and doesn't even know you, that's their problem.

Zanita is standing at my classroom door as I approach. Her black hair sits atop her head in a messy bun. She is wearing red flats today, and I'm surprised. Zanita always wears heels. I wonder if she hurt herself. Nah, not my business. What is my business is her, in my classroom.

"Ms. Reed, is there anything I can help you with?"

She turns around, surprised to see me. "Oh, you have a parent here."

"This early?" I look at my phone. It's only 7:00 am. What parent would come this early to drop off their child? I get to the door and look through the window. Shit. Shit. Fucking Crayola. "Oh."

"Oh?" Zanita replies.

"If you would excuse me." I open the door, closing it behind me. "Mr. Styrke, where are your daughters?" That is the first thing I noticed when I walked inside—he was alone. Placing my things on my desk, he doesn't get up from the tiny seat; his brown eyes are watching my every move. "Mr. Styrke," I clear my throat.