Enforce

  My walk to class was shit, on account that I couldn't stop thinking about the impending doom looming over our family. To make matters worse, I still had to teach class, a class Trace would be in.

  I forced myself not to stare at her when I walked in the door and started firing off directions to the freshman. "Today we're going to work in teams." I started handing out sheets of paper. "I know many of you are familiar with Settlers of Catan. It's a board game where you are in charge of your own country, and you sell and trade with other countries. It's more complicated than that, but today I want you to form your own countries. Each of you has something someone else needs, whether it be oil, wheat, or even land. You will barter with team members in order to build your own country. Come up with a flag and a team motto. You have the rest of the class period."

  Well, I wasn't going to be getting any Teacher-of-the-Year awards after that stellar speech, like I cared. My mouth felt funny, my damn hands were sweaty, and I could have sworn Trace was staring at me, even though I hadn't actually looked down enough to notice.

  Once the papers were handed out, I went back to the front of the room, finally trusting myself enough to look up.

  Naturally, because God hated me, and I'd just committed a sin against one of the ten commandments — on purpose.

  Trace's hand shot up.

  "Yes, Farm Girl?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Aren't the teams assigned?"

  People around her snickered.

  Idiots. "Nope, you work with groups. So pick a group and work with them."

  "Any group?" Her eyes fell as a blush stained her cheeks.

  "Any group," I snapped, needing the conversation to end so I could go back to torturing myself with thoughts of what her kiss would taste like.

  Nodding, she stood and walked over to a group. I almost winced. Bad choice, but hey, her funeral. I only caught the last part of it, but I could have sworn Trace had just been called a whore.

  My fault, considering I'd been an ass to her, but she needed to learn to be tough.

  Trace's shoulders slumped in defeat as she marched toward the back of the room. The group laughed and high-fived one another. When she turned around again, I averted my eyes. They revealed too much — like pity.

  I quickly grabbed the closest book and cracked it open. Her perfume hit me first. It was sweet, tempting.

  "What can I do for you, Trace?" I kept my eyes firmly on the page of the book. They just so happened to focus on breast. What in the ever-loving hell was I reading? It was helping about as much as if Trace were taking off her shirt and tossing it in my face.

  "The groups won't take me," she whispered, her voice containing a slight quiver.

  Well, shit.

  "Then I guess you fail." Blood roared in my ears. What the hell kind of perfume was she wearing? Was that stuff even legal? It didn't just float into the air; it swirled around me, making me damn-near choke with ecstasy.

  She let out a little gasp. "It's not my fault."

  "Ah, there's the excuse I was looking for." I snapped the book closed and glanced up. Time for the talk. "This is the real world, Trace. You can't just tattle on the mean kids in class. Nobody wants you to be in their group? Be in the group anyway. Make them notice you. Make them pay attention. Now, run along."

  The hurt in her eyes was like a punch to the gut, and then she did the strangest thing. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and turned on her heel. She stomped the entire way to the first group who had rejected her. With her paper fisted in her hand, she pulled out a seat with the group and started speaking.

  Every member gaped at her then slowly nodded their heads.

  "Well, I'll be damned," I muttered, my respect for her growing by leaps and bounds. Which I really didn't need. I was already attracted to her Bambi eyes and gorgeous legs. I didn't need to fall in love with her personality too. Or her fierceness.

  Shit. I just said love.

  I looked back down at the book.

  Sexual Encounters.

  I really needed to look at book titles before I picked them up, especially considering I was already ten seconds away from bending my student over my desk. Now that was a fun mental picture I could do without.

  By the time class finished, I'd already imagined a hundred different ways to keep Trace behind, but she was already storming out of the room the minute I chose what excuse to use.

  Irritated, I followed her. Plus, I had to give her the new keycard since my presence offended her so much. I still wasn't sure why Trace was backing off. I should be thrilled; instead I was completely offended, even though I was the one pushing her away. Maybe part of me wished that in those moments where I was being the least humane, she'd see past the mask and save me from my own darkness, recognizing that it wasn't me but the person I had to be in order to protect those I loved.

  "Sister," I said, stopping next to both girls.

  Mo flinched. "Lucifer."

  Slowly, Trace turned around to face me. Her lips were red as if she'd just chewed the crap out of them. They were swollen, and I wanted to touch them. Damn, she made me want, so I pushed her away in a desperate attempt to fight what I knew was inevitable.

  "Please tell Farm Girl to stop looking at us," I said in my coldest voice.

  Trace averted her eyes, immediately making me feel like shit.

  Students started walking slower around us, swarming was more like it, waiting for me to put her in her place again. I needed to get out before I was forced to be the ass I didn't want to be.

  I slid the card into Mo's hand and shrugged.

  "Thanks for… this," Monroe said.

  "I'm doing it for you. Not for her," I lied. "Wouldn't want anyone uncomfortable."

  Trace flinched as if I'd just hit her. I almost lifted my hand to caress that cheek, almost pulled her in for a hug and confessed my idiocy. Instead, I slowly backed away and left it.

  Why was it that every time I walked away from that girl, I knew in my gut it was the wrong choice?