Page 21 of The Other Side
9
Chance Harper was trouble.
I was all too familiar with men like him.
It wasn’t long ago that someone just like him had shredded what was left of my already fragile heart.
I wasn’t about to let it happen all over again.
With men like him, it was all about the thrill of the chase, not what came next or the consequences left in the wake of their conquest. I couldn’t deny I was physically attracted to him, but he was a liar. Now that he’d exposed himself, I couldn’t unsee him for who he really was.
The entitlement oozed from every pore on his body; every word that slipped from his plush lips was calculated—these were the things I needed to focus on, to save me the hassle of falling for another in a long line of assholes that preceded him.
I had well proven to have terrible taste in men. Chance Harper would be no exception.
With only a few days until the official start of classes, I holed up in my secret lounge, savoring the last precious moments before I’d be swept up in a whirlwind of course prep, testgrading, and lecture outlines. I’d put in a lot of work over the summer to prepare, but there were always things that needed to be adjusted on the fly.
Not wanting to leave my sanctuary, I selfishly texted Jolene, asking to raincheck for lunch, remembering that I had told her I’d meet her while trying to escape the mixer. Almost immediately she replied saying she was still running around like a mad woman for the headmaster with all his last-minute whims, so that worked out better for her. I promised I would still be by, food in hand, on the first day of school.
A warm breeze floated through the open windows of the attic lounge, the last wisps of summer fading along with it. A faint smell of the overripe rose garden circled the large space, pulling a dreamy sigh from my lips.
I felt change in the wind.
All my prep was seemingly paying off.
On the first day, I got to class early, only had to threaten two students with expulsion, and felt like a million bucks in my best pencil skirt and a fresh white blouse I’d gotten on clearance from the one department store in town, over the summer.
“Chef Lenny.” I saluted him as I came through the kitchen doors just after lunch service began, although he was already busy prepping for dinner.
“Still haven’t made any friends your own age?” Lenny grumbled.
“What’s wrong with the likes of you?” I beamed.
“I’m not making you any food that isn’t already on the menu.” He shook his dicing blade at me across the kitchen bench where he worked diligently.
“I ask for salad one time and you never let me forget it.” I rolled my eyes.
Lenny huffed.
“Relax—just grabbing two plates to go. I promised Jolene I’d bring her lunch.” I scanned the top shelves for the to-go boxes he kept hidden for me.
“I heard you left the mixer with the new English teacher.” Lenny side-eyed me. He was such a gossip. Usually I loved it, but today, not so much.
“Trust me, it wasn’t by choice.” I rolled my eyes.
Someone had moved the boxes to a shelf just out of reach for me, so I grabbed a stepladder and dragged it across the tile floor, creating a dreadful clunking noise in the process.
“Violet!” Lenny scolded.
“Sorry!” I hefted it up on my shoulder and carried it over to the shelves.
“Just be careful. You know if I’m hearing about it—”
“I know, I know.” I scowled. “He insisted on walking me to my room in front of the headmaster—who has his head so far up Chance’s—”
“Violet!” Lenny admonished.
I teetered on the stepladder to reach the boxes. “The point is, I didn’t have a choice.” I plucked two containers from behind a stack of Bundt pans. “You don’t have to worry about anything happening between us. I think he’s atrocious.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
