Page 11 of Make You Mine

I thought it’d be okay.

I seldom leave my desk.

And now, I’m hunched by it, opening and closing every single drawer in hopes that maybe, just maybe, I put the diary there and forgot about it.

Oh, God. This is not happening.

Chest rising, chest falling. Inhale, exhale. Absolutely freaking not.

I did not just lose my diary at school.

I did not.

Where the hell did I put it?

I thought nothing would top me having to share an apartment with Kayden, but this is the stuff of nightmares.

I crouch down and inspect the classroom floor.

Nothing. Nada.

Fuck.

I’m sooo fucked. Even worse—I’m about to get fired.

If I don’t find my journal, and the principal happens to stumble upon it, I’m dead.

I can’t imagine his face, wrinkled under the mustache and beard, reading line by line of its contents.

“I need to stop bringing things to work.”

“It would make things easier, of course.” Kayden’s voice is low and sarcastic, as usual, with a tint of something sinister. He is leaning against the door, wearing black jeans and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves.

His almost ink-black hair is tousled. He dresses way too formal for a P.E teacher sometimes. Alternating between T-shirts and sweats, and slacks and shirts.

“What did you lose this time, Little Demon?” he asks.

“Who said I lost anything?” I try to mask my desperation as I straighten myself and curl a piece of my long brown hair around my finger.

“Unless you’re just trying to get fired? I don’t see why else you would be crouching around and flashing your underwear to the whole school.”

He’s showing his true colors again. I expected nothing less from Kayden.

First impressions can be tricky, and his sure was.

“I’m not flashing anything. My skirt is long and proper for work.” I attempt to iron it with my hands, realizing it slid up my legs as I bent down under the desk, and it’s almost a mini-skirt.

Goddammit.

Kayden throws his head back with a laugh that puts Lucifer to shame.

Thankfully, our time together at school is limited. As the P.E. teacher and hockey coach, he divides his time between the gym, the school yard outside, and his office. Unlike me, teaching English for a perfect eight hours indoors, lost in pages of books.

My favorite kind of reality.

“So, what did you lose?” he insists.

“I told you. I didn’t lose anything.”