Pieces of Perfect by Elizabeth Hayley Read Free Book Online

"Miss Hamilton" being called from behind me.  I had never experienced Déjà vu before. It sucked.   The voice was coming from Principal Murdock. He motioned for me to come toward them.  I inhaled loudly as I trudged toward the front of the auditorium.  My eyes again found Max, but this time, I didn’t hold his gaze.  I was already turning beet red; if I continued looking at him, I would burst into flames.  My day had been going so well.  I had resolved that pesky zoo issue, my kids had actually learned something, and now it was all shot to shit.
    I smiled expectantly at Mr. Murdock when I reached them, not trusting myself to actually form words.
    “Oh, yes, Miss Lily Hamilton, I’d like you to meet Max Samson.”  Max reached out his hand to me.  The bastard kept his lips closed, but his eyes were cackling hysterically.  I shook his hand limply. “How do you do, Mr. Samson,” I managed dryly.
    “Nice to meet you, Lily ,” he replied, with a discreet wink. “And please, call me Max.”
    What a sly prick.  His thumb briefly massaged mine before he released my hand.  I had to resist the urge to yank it back like he had burned me.  But his seemed dramatic, especially since he had touched far more intimate parts of my anatomy than my hand.  
    “Lily, I was hoping you would show Mr. Samson around tomorrow morning.  He wanted to come in at nine and re-familiarize himself with the building, and when I looked through teacher schedules, I noticed that you were one of the few who had a prep period at that time.  I’d show him around myself, but I’ll be out of the building for a conference.”
    Of course you will be , I thought.   Because why would the universe want me to miss out on this thoroughly mortifying and awkward experience?  
    “Sure,” I replied with a chipperness I didn’t feel.  “I’ll meet you at the front of the building at nine.”
    “Are you sure?” Max asked. “I could meet you in your classroom.”
    Oh no you don’t, buddy.  I know your game, and I am not playing it.  Again that is.   
    “No, it’s no problem.  I’ll meet you in front.  See you tomorrow.   It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” The last sentence had slipped out before I could catch it.  This had been far from pleasurable for me.  
    I balled my hands into fists at my side as I tried to regain my composure for the long, lonely walk up the aisle.  About midway through my journey, I heard his deep tone behind me, “The pleasure’s all mine.”  My mind immediately honed in on the word “pleasure.”  My body quaked, but I didn’t dare a look back until I reached the doors.  With my escape imminent, I couldn’t resist a glance back.  And there he was, speaking to Mr. Murdock, but his eyes still locked on me.  
    Tomorrow was really going to blow.
     

Eight
     
    The night had passed with excruciating slowness. I had drifted through intermittent bouts of restless sleep and terrified alertness. I ran scenarios over and over in my mind of what this day could bring: horror, tragedy, mortification? The only thing I was able to guarantee myself was that it was going to be a long day.
     
    As I walked bleary eyed into school the next morning, I had wound myself so tight that I had nearly convinced myself that quitting was a better option than actually going through with this tour. I plodded down the hall toward my classroom, thinking what a damn inconvenience it was to have to deal with these kids all of the time. I pulled my copy of The Outsiders from my red leather messenger bag and threw it onto my desk. Yesterday, I had really enjoyed teaching this novel to my classes, and now I stared at the book like it would give me leprosy. That damn bastard had taken the joy out of everything!
     
    What really bothered me was that I couldn’t actually pinpoint why I was so annoyed. I mean, so the guy had fucked me mercilessly in an airport? Was that truly something that I should let ruin my day? What the