The Boy Who Has No Belief - Victoria Quinn Page 0,45
would let me go, but I also knew if I talked about it too much, I would either start crying or screaming. And I also didn’t want him to think he was at all responsible for what had happened.
He stood alone at his table while Jerome and Pierre worked on something in the rear. Tall, muscular, and sexy, he stood over his laptop, his defined muscles stretching the sleeves of his sweater.
I walked up to him, my anger subdued slightly at the purely gorgeous man who could make me come every single time we were together, while barely touching me. “Derek?”
He looked up, so invested in his task, he hadn’t heard me approach. “What is it, baby? I’m in the middle of something, so is it important?” He was much better at accepting distractions than he used to be. Back in the day, he used to lose his shit—badly.
“Yeah, I just need to leave early. Is that okay?”
“When?” One eyebrow cocked.
“Now.”
He studied my face, like he didn’t know what to say. He probably had a million options in his head but didn’t know what would be appropriate. “Is everything okay?” I never left early, so he was probably concerned something was wrong.
“Yeah. I just need to meet with Lizzie’s teacher, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned to walk away.
“Baby.”
I stilled then turned back around, sighing as I did it.
He was around the table and directly in front of me. “What is it?” His eyes shifted back and forth as he looked at me, as if he could see the unease in my facial features, see the ferocity that wanted to break out of my chest.
I wanted to lie and say it was nothing, but I couldn’t, not when he was looking at me like that, like I was his priority. “Lizzie is having a problem with one of her teachers, and I just need to get it sorted out.”
“Which teacher?” His eyes narrowed farther.
I didn’t know what to say.
He got there on his own. “Her math teacher? Baby, what happened? What’s the problem?”
I inhaled a deep breath before I answered. “She turned in her math assignment, and he said she didn’t do it the way she was supposed to, so he marked her answers as wrong and gave her an F. Then he accused her of cheating and said if she did it again, he would report her to the principal.”
Derek had no reaction. His expression was frozen in time, taking all of that in with poised stillness. Seconds passed until half a minute was gone. Then his eyes darkened in a way I’d never seen before, his anger coming out in a silent form…which was somehow more lethal than if he screamed.
He turned to Jerome and Pierre. “I have to go. Lock up when you’re done.”
“What?” I blurted. “Derek?”
He turned back to me. “I’m coming with you.”
“Derek, you don’t need to do that—”
“Yes, I fucking do.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me with him. “Now, let’s go.”
Derek was silent the entire way.
He looked out the window with his jaw tight, his eyes hard like he couldn’t see anything past his anger.
“It’s not your fault, Derek.”
“I know it’s not my fault.” He wouldn’t look at me, as if I were the one he was angry with.
“He’s just stupid—”
“Exactly.”
“When we explain—”
“Oh, I’ll explain, alright.”
We arrived at the school then walked to her classroom. The bell rang when we were a few doors down, and students immediately filed into the hallway. A couple kids we passed looked at Derek and recognized him. “That’s Derek Hamilton…”
Derek didn’t seem to hear because he didn’t look.
When I reached the door, Derek didn’t even let me go first. He just stormed in there and pushed past the last kid who tried to walk out.
Lizzie stood there and stilled when she saw Derek enter the classroom. “Uh…”
Derek ignored her and went for Mr. Franklin, walking up to his desk, tall and proud, staring him down like an opponent in the ring rather than an educated professional.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let him come.
Lizzie turned to me. “Mom?”
“Take a seat, honey.” I patted her on the back before I moved to the desk. “Mr. Franklin, I’m Lizzie’s mother, and I—”
“Your first response to a student’s success is to assume they’re cheating?” Derek’s voice was louder than usual, deeper than usual, but he wasn’t yelling. He was menacing, his brown eyes furious.
Mr. Franklin slowly rose to his feet, wearing a wrinkled collared shirt and round glasses on the