Sheila’s POV
My legs still feel weak when I finally stand, clutching my notebook to my chest like it can shield me from the way Brendan’s voice is still dripping inside my head.
This is only the start.
God, I hate how those words replay, how they twist heat low in my stomach when I should be furious, humiliated.
The classroom empties quickly, chatter and laughter fading into the hallway. I move more slowly, hoping maybe I can slip away unseen, vanish before he comes back.
But he’s waiting.
Of course he is.
Leaning against the wall like he owns the whole damn corridor, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, arms crossed as his eyes lock onto me.
That smirk. That smug, dangerous curl of his lips that already knows I’ll walk right into his trap.
I swallow hard and grip my notebook t
