The persistent ticking of a clock echoed somewhere inside my head, beating in a steady rhythm, making me flinch every second, every moment. I was hopelessly late for the second class, and honestly, I probably wouldn't make it to school at all today. Whatever. Outside the crystal-clear window, polished to a shine, everything—living and lifeless, moving and still—flashed by at incredible speed. I let out a heavy sigh, wrapping myself tighter in my leather jacket, catching its fresh scent. Nervously biting my lip, I shot a lightning-sharp, overly focused glance at the teacher.
"Bit chilly in here," he muttered, skillfully steering the wheel while simultaneously trying to adjust the car's heater.
"Mhm," I exhaled softly. The cold wrapped around my body, seeping into every cell, making my fingertips tremble. At the same time, everything inside me burned with a bright fire, as if explosions were going off in every capillary, heating my already warm blood until it felt like boiling liquid. His brows drawn together made his expression even more tense, concentrated. He stared through the windshield, carefully watching the road. Meanwhile, I found myself studying the features of his face in the rearview mirror without even realizing it.
"Am I really that handsome, Striker?" Collin's full lips curved into a faint, barely noticeable smile. I shivered involuntarily at the tone of his voice, the question, the way his words flowed like warm, mesmerizing honey.
"I actually have a name," I muttered. It wasn't that I disliked it—I hated when people called me by my last name, and he did it with excessive irony.
"Dodging the question, Lily."
"Not at all," I protested immediately, folding my arms across my chest. "I was just… thinking. And what my eyes happened to land on isn't important."
"And what were you thinking about?"
"Biology."
Collins let out a quiet chuckle, glancing at me with his bottomless blue eyes, while my poor soul desperately tried to warm itself in the cold atmosphere. His gaze, it seemed, made me shiver even more than the chill inside the car.
"See you, Striker."
I only realized the car had stopped right in front of my building after his words. Clutching my bag nervously, shifting it in my hands, I slung it over my shoulder and reached for the door handle. But the damn thing wouldn't budge, as if it didn't want me to leave the cozy Range Rover. Rolling his eyes so dramatically that only the whites showed, Collins sighed heavily—apparently at my clumsiness and helplessness.
I froze when he leaned toward my side of the door and opened it with ease. For a moment, he was too close—so close that my heart began pounding traitorously, trying to break free from my chest. Nervously licking my lips and gripping my bag even tighter, almost digging my nails into the fabric, I looked at Collins. And he looked at me.
"Goodbye," I murmured faintly, my voice already dissolving into the air as I scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind me.
Goodbye, Mr. Collins.
Hopefully not for too soon.
Playing the part of a suffering saint over the phone with my mom came easily. I didn't do it often, of course, but the situation called for it. I had absolutely no desire to go to school—especially not to see Viktoria. Because, damn it, she had left me there that night, practically alone with Michael. Disgusting. My stomach still twinged unpleasantly; the alcohol I'd drunk the night before last was still making itself known even today. Not a pleasant feeling at all.
But there was one place I did decide to go. The very same club, Bloody Dawn. And no, I definitely wasn't going there to get drunk again. I needed the second floor—yes, the one that served as a mini tattoo studio. During the day, the place wasn't open, and there weren't even any guards at the entrance, so getting inside wasn't difficult at all. The lighting was still dim, unfamiliar voices drifted down from the second floor, and soft, calming music filled the hall. I slowly climbed the stairs until I reached the spot where I'd been that night.
"Oh, another one," a guy sitting on a matte beige couch exclaimed in surprise when he saw me. He quickly jumped to his feet and approached me with a businesslike air. "Here for a tattoo too? Well, would you look at that! Lyssa, you've got tons of work today!"
"Actually, no," I interrupted uncertainly, cutting short his already brief monologue.
The girl named "Lyssa" paused for a moment, stopping her work on the visitor's skin, and narrowed her eyes at me questioningly. Honestly, the first thing that caught my attention was her unusual hairstyle—long dreadlocks gathered into a high ponytail. I'd only ever seen something like that on screen before.
"Then what are you here for?" the guy who had spoken earlier asked, giving me another curious look.
"I want to work here," I exhaled.
"One second," Lyssa apologized to the client for pausing her work. "Smoke!"
Wow, her voice was piercing—so sharp it practically made my ears ring.
I nervously squeezed the fabric of my bag while a man around forty hurried into the room, looking startled. He was dressed impressively: a perfectly pressed black suit that clearly cost more than three hundred bucks, polished pointed shoes, and a light blue tie with red polka dots—the only item that seemed somewhat tasteless. The man glanced at Lyssa in surprise, blinking.
"What—what is it?" he asked.
"Relax, nothing! This girl wants to work here," she nodded toward me, and inside, my soul seemed to shrink into a corner as fear and anxiety suddenly washed over me. But outwardly, I remained calm.
"The ads aren't even ready yet, and we already have applicants," the man rubbed his hands together slyly, earning amused smirks from Fox and the guy who'd spoken to me first. "Are you of legal age, young lady?"
"Of course," I lied without a trace of guilt, but the energetic man seemed harder to fool than I'd expected.
"Ah, you're lying! I can see it in your brown eyes," he wagged his finger at me reproachfully, clicking his tongue. "Alright. Lalyssa, see what she can do, and then we'll decide."
"Aye-aye, captain!" the girl snapped her hand to her temple in mock salute, nodded to the man, then turned back to me. "So, what's your name?"
"Lily."
"Well then, Lily—let's take a closer look at what you can do."
Despite not feeling my best, the past few days had been wonderful. I came back in high spirits, realizing I'd achieved exactly what I'd ventured out of my cozy cocoon—my apartment—for. After seeing my drawing skills and unconventional thinking, Lalisa—so that was the girl's name—praised me to Smoke, the forty-year-old guy who, as it turned out, owned the entire place. And, by the way, he was actually only thirty-nine.
My stomach growled traitorously, and after quickly changing, I hurried to the kitchen. I was unbelievably hungry, but luckily, on my way home I'd stopped by a supermarket and picked up a few things: my favorite ham, some hard cheese, and a large pack of yogurt—four cups of my favorite treat. I made an omelet and, after devouring it with great satisfaction, moved on to the yogurt when the doorbell suddenly rang.
The sound startled me so much I nearly choked. Narrowing my eyes until a small crease formed between my brows, I wondered who it could be. I wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe Vicky had come to check on me, since I'd "partied hard" with her on Wednesday and hadn't shown up at school since. My phone, by the way, had already been exploding with her nonstop messages, which I had no particular desire to answer. She'd even tried calling once, and only then did my smartphone finally stop making those awful sounds that pounded against my aching head.
Reluctantly setting the spoon and yogurt down, I trudged toward the front door, hearing the bell ring again. Why hadn't I thought to check the peephole first? I could've pretended I wasn't home. Because when I opened the door, the last person I wanted to see stood in front of me.
"And… what are you doing here?" I asked, scanning Collins from head to toe in confusion. But I didn't manage to embarrass him in the slightest.
"Well, first of all—hello," the biology teacher stood on the landing, looking straight at me with a faint smile. "And secondly, did you forget you have extra biology lessons?"
I kept staring at him, still unable to say a word. Of course I remembered those extra lessons on Tuesdays and Fridays—but I hadn't even been at school today. So what the…
"Your mother called me this morning, said you weren't feeling well, and asked me to come over and hold the lesson here," he finally explained, noticing my confusion. "She gave me your address—which, by the way, I already knew."
And of course he had to remind me of yesterday—and, by extension, the day before. Naturally. He couldn't help himself.
Stepping aside, I let Collins into the apartment. Reluctantly, of course, but I didn't really have a choice. I directed him to the living room with a brief explanation, while I hurried back to finish my yogurt. When had Mom even managed to arrange all this? And she really did worry about my studies.
I quickly dashed into my bedroom, grabbed everything I needed—textbook, notebook, pencil case—and headed to the living room, where Collins was supposed to be. But the moment I opened the door, I ran straight into him. Not in the cliché "my face pressed against his chest" kind of way—no, we were about the same height, so I nearly bumped right into his face. And if I actually had, it would've been pretty awkward. Thankfully, the things I was carrying saved me, leaving a tiny but noticeable space between us.
"I was just about to come looking for you," the teacher smirked lightly. "And here you are, rushing to biology."
Another jab. But I was used to it by now. Just like everyone else in class. Everyone at school.
"Would you like some tea or coffee?" I asked, placing my school supplies on the table and turning to face him. A strand of orange hair fell over my face, and I quickly tucked it behind my ear. "Or something stronger?"
"Trying to get me drunk, Striker?" he shook his head disapprovingly, and I let out a short laugh. As if I needed that.
"Well, you never know," I said defensively, glancing aside with an innocent expression. "Who knows what your preferences are…"
"I wouldn't mind some tea," the teacher replied warmly after a brief pause. I nodded obediently and headed to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Passing a large mirror, I glanced at my reflection and only then realized what I was wearing: shamelessly short pajama shorts and a warm sweater—an odd combination that shouldn't really work, yet somehow looked quite harmonious. Especially on my slim figure.
Realizing there was no point in changing—after all, Collins had already seen me in a far more… compromising state—I kept walking. Besides, it would look strange, like I was embarrassed in front of my own teacher, in my own home. No way. In my apartment, in my cozy little corner, I had no one to be embarrassed about.
Screw you, Mr. Collins!
I'm in my own house.