Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
As I navigate the fluorescent maze, the sensory overload dredges up more childhood nostalgia than I bargained for. Even the weird, metallic tang in the air is familiar enough to knock me off balance. But the fun and games aren't as fun when you’re the one on the hot seat. My mouth goes dry in anticipation of impending awkwardness. I never did like giving presentations. That was Atlas’ specialty.
I'm halfway down the corridor when a rogue soccer ball careens past my feet, nearly taking me out. A gaggle of kids swarms after it, nearly as quick and twice as loud. One kid barrels into my leg, and I brace against the wall. "Careful, buddy."
"Sorry!" He’s already halfway down the hall by the time my words reach him. I’m not used to feeling like a fish out of water, but this career day is definitely out of my element.
The signs outside classrooms list each victim for the day: Doctor Hernandez, Coach Steve, Detective W., Chef Terri, Fireman Ian Hot. My job for the day, courtesy of my dear brother, the dickhead.
I turn a corner and the echo of my footsteps ricochets against the shiny floors, only slightly drowned out by my pulse hammering in my ears. I can see the door to Ms. Higgins' classroom now. It taunts me with the promise of awkward public speaking.
Outside her door, I pause for a moment to collect myself, running a hand through my hair and feeling more like a fidgety third grader than I did when I actually was one. The sign taped to her door reads "3rd Grade: Ms. Sage Higgins." It's in colorful letters, cheery and damning, and I breathe out slowly.
Beckett owes me a year’s worth of beer for this.
I’m about to knock when a crash echoes from down the hall. Someone dropped a crate of supplies, flooding the hallway with finger paints and pipe cleaners. Perfect distraction. I think I see an opening, a chance to ditch before I'm trapped in there. But I know I’m already this far in.
One deep breath. One more. Then, without giving myself the chance to think too much, I grip the handle. Just a half hour, maybe an hour tops. I can survive this.
Then I push the door open, a little too quickly for my own good, and step into the unknown.
The door swings open, and I’m ambushed by an untamed herd of third graders let loose in Ms. Higgins' classroom. Laughter, glue sticks, and paper scraps collide midair, a melee of kid energy with the teacher at its calm center.
I swallow, or try to, but my throat is dry as fuck. Kids are all over the place, swarming with the intensity of a fire ant pile that’s been kicked. Every art project known to man scatters across the room, creating barely controlled chaos that feels ten times more unpredictable than any emergency call I've been on.
Standing right in the middle of the chaos is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her long, curly blonde hair is up in a way that I can only describe as stylishly tangled, and she has intense blue eyes that remind me of clear summer skies. She's bending over a group of kids, totally at ease, you’d never know she’s surrounded by the madness that’s closing in around me.
I freeze, all firefighter instincts failing me. She hasn’t even noticed me yet, but I'm standing here like a deer caught in headlights and my usual confidence is nowhere to be found. Her voice floats above the din, steady and warm, giving directions for the project they're doing. It’s meant to be about careers, I guess, but right now, it looks like the only thing most of them will be qualified for is demolition.
A kid zooms past with a pair of safety scissors, and it jolts me back to life. My entrance hasn't drawn any attention yet, so I hover awkwardly in the doorway, half of me tempted to retreat and regroup.
But then the stunning woman looks up, and our eyes meet, and suddenly there's no chance in hell I'm going anywhere. Her smile is bright and unguarded, hitting me with all the force of a first impression I should have been prepared for. Every goddamn nerve in my body goes on high alert while my cock wakes up. Oh, fuck no. This really isn’t the time to deal with this shit.
"Hi," she calls out, her voice cutting through the bustling noise of the crowded room. Her eyes are fixed on me with a knowing smile. "You must be Ian Hot.”
Her words drag me out of my stupor. As I hear them, memories of how I ended up here flood back, a reminder of the limited choices I had. Despite the whirlwind of thoughts in my head, all I manage to say is, "Uh, yeah. That’s me. Ian. I’m here." My voice is almost lost amid the surrounding chatter, but I nod to confirm my presence, feeling even more awkward.