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By the time the final bell rings, I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted. I slump into my chair as the last student files out, rubbing my temples to ward off an impending headache. The bouquet still mocks me from its perch, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to my stormy mood.
With a sigh, I start packing up my things. As much as I'd love to leave the arrangement here and deal with it tomorrow, I know the rumors would only run wild if it looked like I was rejecting the gift. Reluctantly, I gather the vase in my arms, casting one last glance around the classroom before flicking off the lights. I’m certain they’d look much better decorating the inside of my trash can.
The cool evening air hits my flushed face as I step into the parking lot, a welcome relief after a day in a stuffy classroom filled with nosy teenagers. My arms already ache from carrying the flowers this far, and I can't wait to be rid of them and sit back with a much-needed glass of wine. Despite what Dom may think, I don’t have an alcohol problem. But I do seem to have a problem with unwanted attention.
I fumble for my keys, barely managing to juggle the vase and my book-laden bag. Finally, I manage to unlock the car and chuck the flowers on the passenger seat. With a sigh of relief, I slide behind the wheel, ready to put this place in my rearview.
I turn the key in the ignition. Nothing happens. Frowning, I try again. The engine sputters weakly but refuses to turn over. "Come on, you piece of junk," I mutter, giving it one more attempt. Still nothing.
Frustration bubbles up inside me as I pop the hood and climb out of the car.
Could things really get any worse?
I stare at the engine, quickly realizing I have no clue what I'm supposed to be looking at. Looking around for any kind of small miracle, I find the parking lot is deserted. Because, of course, this would happen to me on the day I’m the last to leave.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath, slamming the hood shut. I lean against the car, pulling out my phone to call for reinforcements. Greyson's number is at the top of my favorites list, and I tap it impatiently.
It rings once, twice, then goes to voicemail. “Hey, it's Greyson. Leave a message.”
“Hey man, are you busy? My car won't start, and I'm stuck at school. Call me back ASAP, please!”
I end the call and immediately dial my dad’s number next. It rings and rings, but still, no one picks up. I leave another desperate message, the slight crack in my voice betraying my growing frustration.
As I lower the phone again, the reality of my situation sinks in. I'm alone in an empty parking lot, with a useless car and a very long walk home. I silently curse myself for not buying a house closer to the high school. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the asphalt, and an involuntary shiver wracks my spine.
I glance back down at my phone screen, thumb still hovering over the contacts list. There's one more person I could call, but the thought makes my stomach churn. Asking Dom for helpwould feel like admitting defeat, like proving him right about me wanting him around.
I pace back and forth for a few minutes, weighing my options. I could wait here and hope someone shows up, but there’s no way of knowing if that could happen before the morning. I could try walking, but it's miles to my house and the sunlight is rapidly disappearing.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, hitting Dom's number before I can remind myself of all the reasons it’s a terrible idea.
A shock to absolutely no one, he’s the person who picks up on the second ring. “Well, this is a surprise… Miss me already?”
His taunting tone immediately sets my teeth on edge. “Don't flatter yourself,” I snap. “Look, I wouldn't be calling if I had any other choice. My car won't start, and I'm stuck at school. Can you...can you come pick me up?”
There's a long pause, and I can practically hear his smug smile. "Now why would I want to do that? Will there be a goodnight kiss in it for me?"
I close my eyes, swallowing my pride along with a not-so-healthy dose of acidic shame. “Please, Dom. I've had a really long day, and I just want to go home.”
Another pause. “Fine. I'll be there in ten minutes. Try not to freeze to death before I arrive.”
The line goes dead before I can respond. I shove my phone back in my bag and wrap my arms tightly around myself, relief and dread swirling in my stomach.
The next ten minutes feel like an eternity. I pace the parking lot, checking the time obsessively. I think about the flowers, still sitting discarded in my useless car. Dom didn’t mention them on the phone. If he had sent them, surely, he would be demanding my simpering gratitude.
The conversation from lunch keeps replaying in my head. A secret admirer? If only my friends knew the truth–that theonly man occupying my thoughts right now is my insufferable stepbrother who just happens to have given me the best orgasm of my life.
As the sky darkens to a deep indigo, headlights appear at the entrance to the parking lot. My heart rate picks up as Dom's sleek black car pulls up beside me, the engine purring smoothly before he cuts it off.
He steps out, looking annoyingly put-together as usual in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. His eyes rake over me slowly, taking in my disheveled appearance. “Rough day, Teach?"
I bite back a scathing retort, no doubt he’d love to see me riled again so soon. “Can we just go? I'd like to salvage what's left of my evening.”
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “By all means. Your chariot awaits.”
I hesitate for a moment, staring at the car. Getting in feels like crossing a line, like opening myself up to whatever game Dom's playing. But as a biting wind whips through the parking lot, I realize I don't have much choice.
16
