Page 119 of The Monster I Am
I let out a groan as we reach the classroom. “Shit. It’s about prom, isn’t it?”
Tai pretends to zip his lips. “I know nothing, Peach Queen.”
“In your seats. Quickly,” Mr. Hardwood directs everyone, toupee at the ready. “Marks will be deducted for tardiness.”
I lead Tai up to our seats, wriggling my eyebrows. “With a name like Hardwood, you’d think he’d be less stressed.”
Tai stiffens, a horrified look appearing suddenly. “Oh, gross, Bex. I didn’t need that image before the exam.”
Slipping into my spot, I tap the desk with my knuckles. “Well… knock onwoodthat you don’t get too distracted by the final climax.”
I head straight to the coffee machine like a moth to a flame, not even detouring to drop my things off in the staff-only area.
Need. Coffee. Now.
Elliott’s already slinging cups at full speed, shooting me a chunky grin as I approach.
“Morning, baby girl!”
I only just manage to repress the shiver, feeling uneasy at his words. I still think I’m the problem, but it doesn’t change the visceral reaction I have every time Elliott starts getting a little close for comfort.
Don’t get me wrong—he’s a nice enough guy. He’s justtoonice. Is that a thing? Or am I too traumatized for normal social interactions?
Either way, it’s far too early to deal with pleasantries without caffeine.
By the time we finished yesterday’s exams and got home, Arch and I immediately opened our textbooks to study for today. Apparently, my energetic vibe only lasted a day because, now, I feel like shit and every molecule of my exhaustion.
It’s fine, though. We’ve got this. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
“Morning,” I mumble back, giving him a grateful smile when he steps back so I can home in on the machine to quickly make a drink.
Jessa is at the counter taking orders, so I move speedily so as to not mess up their rhythm.
I’ll just make this and chug it in the staff room. Then, all I need to do is survive the next fifteen or so minutes until the magic kicks in.
I’ve nearly finished, leaning over to grab some syrup to drizzle on top, when two hands delicately latch onto my waist.
I spin around in shock, coming face to face with Elliott. Part of me expects him to burst out laughing, or just make some little comment to explain the inappropriate touch, but he’s just staring at me with a terrifyingly wide grin.
Shoving his hands away, I step back, hitting the countertop by the coffee machine. “What the hell are you doing?”
Elliott’s head tilts to the side. “What do you mean?” He asks innocently, smiling.
I gawk at him, snapping my head to look for Jessa, wondering if she saw it. Internally cringing when I find her back facing us, I glare at Elliott, crossing my arms.
“Don’t do that again,” I say firmly. “I’m going to finish making my drink so I can start work.”
I assume that’s the end of the matter, turning back to my drink when he touches me again, this time, harder on my hips. It actually hurts, his fingers pressing so hard that I feel his nails sink into my skin.
The fucking audacity of this man.
It’s not the greatest reaction, I’ll admit. But I really can’t be held responsible when it’s 5:30 a.m. and I’m running on less than four hours of sleep. My arm swings out as I twist, colliding with his thoracic outlet. Not hard enough to do any real damage, but he does jump back, still grinning madly. If anything, he seems even more amused by my reaction.
“Fuck off,” I whisper, low. I don’t need customers hearing or seeing this. But Idoneed this guy to remove his damn handsbefore I rip them off his body and provide a free amputation service as a pre-gym class special.
“Chill, babe,” Elliott drawls out. His finger darts out, brushing my nose. “You’re a bit stressed today. Do you need me to help fix that?”
Okay. Absolutely not.
