Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
For now, I’ll do what he wants, and then I’ll be back for that rain check.
4
SIN
I can’t stop checking my phone, hoping the time on the screen is lying. Fuck! I’m late. Not just a little late, but very late. I take pride in being on time. Punctuality is important to me, but I got caught up with the mysterious Christian at the coffee shop. My shirt is stained with coffee, and I’m stressed. I’m going to be a wreck all day.
My flats slap against the concrete as I run up the steps into the business building. Taj is going to be pissed. Hell, I bet there’s a vein bulging in the side of his neck right now.
I know I should take it a little more seriously, but I’ve never been late. Unlike him, who has been running late and blowing me off every chance he gets. Rushing down the hall with my purse slung off my shoulder and holding the coffee I should’ve tossed on my way in, I nearly trip but somehow stay upright. God, I’m a mess.
When I reach the door to the classroom, I pause, my chest heaving. Taking a calming breath, I peer through the glass window in the door.
Dammit.
The class is full, and Taj has already started his lesson. While I’m standing here, Taj looks over, and our gazes collide. His pale green eyes are stormy, and even from this distance, I can see the irritation etched into his features.
Taj is serious about being on time for his students, so serious that he locks the door as soon as class starts. If you aren’t inside the class on time, then you aren’t getting in. What’s funny, though, is that he doesn’t have the same commitment for everything else in his life, like when he asks me out on a date—because he is late almost every single time.
I stand there wondering if I should knock. He’s already seen me, but he’s not heading toward the door yet. Another second passes, then another. His lips move as he speaks to the class, then he walks toward the door.
My heart is racing as he walks toward me, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel the rush of adrenaline in my veins. I haven’t felt anything like this since…
He opens the door, wearing a scowl on his face. Peering over his shoulder, he closes the door behind him and steps out into the hall, forcing me to take a step back.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had a minor issue at the coffee shop and then—”
“Those all sound like excuses to me, Siân. You’re supposed to be setting an example. This is your damn job. Being late is inexcusable.”
He’s scolding me like I’m a child, and I don’t like it, not one fucking bit.
I sigh. “I’m less than ten minutes late, Taj. Chill.”
Taj’s lip curls, and the gentleman I’m so used to melts away, revealing something cold and ugly. “You know what? Go home.”
I blink, suddenly confused. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t intentionally arrive late.”
He shakes his head. “Go home, Siân.” The coldness in his voice makes me shiver, and I stand there staring at him, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly.
“I…”
“Go. Home,” he grits out and whirls around, giving me his back.
Before I can utter another word, he’s walking back into the classroom, and the slamming of the door vibrates through me.
What the hell just happened?
An onslaught of anger and sadness encompasses me, but most of all, I realize how incompatible we are. If Taj loved me as much as he says he does, he wouldn’t react in such an angry manner over something so small.
Maybe he’s just stressed? No, that’s not a good enough reason for him to treat me so poorly. I’ve noticed more and more each day that he becomes a man I no longer recognize.
I’m simply filling the place of his perfect girlfriend, who never steps out of line.
Angrily, I turn and walk down the hall. I exit the building and stand outside on the steps, staring out over the courtyard. When did I become such a pushover? No, not just a pushover… Safe. I’m safe. Christian’s words—the man from the bar—resonate with me. I don’t take risks, and I never step out of line. I’m the perfect doormat, and I’m tired of it.
Frustration pulses through me, and I walk across the courtyard and back to the house. I should return to the classroom and tell Taj off, but deep down, I know it wouldn’t do me any good. We’re both angry, and any words said at this point would do more harm than good. No matter what, I have to end this before it gets out of control. Taj is my boss, and at the end of the day, I’d still like to be friends, if that’s possible. This has gone on much longer than it should’ve.