Page 36 of Blind Date
Samantha
I set my coffee on my desk, and Greta walked into my classroom.
“Good morning, sunshine. My big date is coming up, and I bought a fabulous dress.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” I smiled. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to him. He’s been out of town. He said he’ll reach out when he returns.”
The bell rang, and the students started filtering in.
“I have to get to class. I’ll see you at lunch.” Greta smiled.
Grabbing the basket, I walked around as each student tossed their phone into it.
“Good morning, beautiful students.” I smiled, setting the basket on my desk. I picked up the bookPride and Prejudiceand held it up. “How many of you thinkPride and Prejudiceis going to be so boring, you’ll want to claw your eyes out?”
Every student raised their hand.
“Excellent.” I grinned.
“Excellent?” Devon said. “You’re happy we’ll claw our eyes out?”
I picked up a marker and walked over to the whiteboard and wrote in capital letters: RICH PEOPLE BEING DRAMATIC and underlined it twice.
“That is,” I said, pointing to what I’d written, “Pride and Prejudice. Open your books to Chapter 1. It’s Jane Austen basically telling us about rich people and their problems. Let me give you a little insight about Mr. Darcy before we start reading. He’s rich, socially awkward, judgmental, and terrible at communication.”
“So he’s no different from any other guy,” Gina spoke out.
The boys in the class began to argue loudly.
“I’m not touching that one, Gina.” I laughed, turning back to the board. “Before we dive into the book that you believe will make you claw your eyes out, I want you to tell me what you think you’ll learn about the people in this book. Go!” I pointed at the class.
“Rich people are exhausting,” Rachel said, and I wrote it on the board.
“Rich people create their own problems,” Devon said, and I wrote it on the board.
“Rich people judge everybody,” Delilah said.
“Excellent.” I wrote it on the board.
“Being rich doesn’t automatically make you charming, even though these rich people think it does,” Gina said.
“You go, girl!” I grinned, writing it on the board.
“That seems a little harsh,” I heard a voice from the doorway.
The entire class, including myself, turned our heads, and instantly, my stomach dropped.
No. No. No. But there he was, Weston Castile, standingin the doorway of my classroom, looking as sexy as ever in his designer suit and perfectly styled hair, holding two large white pastry boxes from Avila’s.
I could hear the gasps coming from some of the girls. Traitors.
“Isn’t that Mr. Castile?” Devon blurted out.
“You are correct, young man.” Weston smiled, casually strolling into the room as if he belonged there.
“I brought cinnamon rolls for all of you.”
