Thief of Hearts
Page 12
Needless to say, he wasn’t the biggest fan of social networking. Neither was Jamie. Given that my two closest friends didn’t use Facebook, my page was pretty boring and inactive.
I tried resisting the urge to have a peek at Stu’s page, but my willpower barely lasted five minutes before I clicked on his profile to snoop. I was such a weak-willed human being.
Scrolling down, I saw that most of the posts on his wall were from other people, a lot of them congratulating him on his early release. I found it weird, but then again, I wasn’t from that world. So why was I so interested?
I avoided answering that question the same way I avoided thinking about my debt. Seemingly, it was my coping method in many areas of life.
Aside from a few funny memes, I couldn’t really find any posts he’d written himself, and it further piqued my concerns about his writing. Obviously, he must’ve been able to read somewhat if he was on Facebook in the first place, but the question was how much.
There were a lot of family pictures he’d been tagged in, and well, his brothers were certainly an attractive bunch. Stu was definitely the best looking, with his dark hair and eyes. The rest of his brothers had lighter hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also the tallest, and studying them all together, I thought he might be the eldest, too.
I startled when somebody spoke, immediately shutting down the page. Seriously, you’d swear I’d just been looking at porn.
“Miss Anderson, I haven’t received any invite to the group yet,” said Harold with a hint of impatience. He didn’t like to be left waiting for things. I noticed Stu shoot him an arch look and remembered the first day when I’d had to quell a potential argument between the two of them over seating.
“I’m sorry, Harold. I got caught up sending an email,” I lied. “I’ll get on those invites right away.”
“Or he could just wait for you to be finished with what you’re doing,” said Stu, one arm resting casually on the back of his chair.
“It’s already been five minutes and the bell is going to ring for lunch any second,” Harold complained, which only functioned to bother Stu further.
“And she’s in charge,” Stu countered. “So quit being a whiny little bitch and wait until she’s ready.”
“Stu!” I exclaimed, while several of the other students gasped their surprise at his aggression. Sure, Harold wasn’t exactly a favourite in the class, but no one would ever think to speak to him like Stu just had. “That’s quite enough,” I continued, my voice hard. The bell chimed right after I said it and everybody stood from their seats, probably relieved for an excuse to leave.
“I’ll send the invites during lunch, everyone,” I called then shot Stu a pointed look. “Stay back a minute. I need a word.” It felt like I was constantly holding him back to have words, but I just couldn’t let behaviour like that slide. He wasn’t my first student to have teething problems while adapting to classroom etiquette, yet I was undecided whether it was his upbringing or perhaps arrogance.
“That was completely uncalled for,” I said once everyone was out of the room.
“What? I was only saying what everybody else was thinking. That bloke is constantly complaining about shit. Someone needed to call him on it.”
“Not like that, Stu. That’s not how we speak to each other in this classroom. It’s about respect, not name calling. You’re breaking the rules of behaviour.”
He scrunched up his brows. “Just because I called him a whiny little bitch? I’m sure he’s been called worse.”
“Harold is fifty-seven years old and about half your height. He’s also been out of the education system for almost forty years. You can’t imagine how scary that is for a person. He basically has to learn how to learn all over again from scratch.”
“We’ve all been out of school for a long time, Andrea. I know exactly how it feels, but I don’t go around complaining about every little thing.”
“That’s because you’re stronger than he is. Try to have a little empathy, Stu. Stepping into someone else’s shoes will help you see that we’re all struggling, and that way you’ll learn tolerance. You can’t just go around telling people off because they deal with things in different ways than you do.”
He ran a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. “I just don’t like him talking to you like that, okay? It’s disrespectful.”
Now I laughed. “Coming from someone who’s disrespected me countless time in the past week.”
“I haven’t disrespected you. I just talk to you how I’d talk to anyone. And I think you’re gorgeous, so . . . yeah, when I like a bird I tend to be a little full on. Sorry. I also haven’t been around women for a long time, so I’m kinda rusty.” His expression turned self-conscious, which oddly looked good on him.
I couldn’t seem to hide my blush at his compliment, even if I did dislike being referred to as a ‘bird’. “If what you said on your first day is to be believed, then you didn’t waste too much time getting reacquainted,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
His gaze flicked up, his hazel eyes turning dark and introspective. “Yeah. Right.”
It felt like I’d struck a nerve, and I immediately felt bad for making light of his time in prison. I frowned. “That comment was in poor taste. I apologise.”
Stu’s hand went from his hair down to rub at his jaw. It was a very nice jaw. I couldn’t help noticing. “Don’t apologise. I just, what I said that day was bullshit. I was peacocking or whatever they call it. Truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since I got out. Haven’t had an appetite for women at all, really. It’s kind of depressing.”
I didn’t bring up the fact that he’d been hitting on me pretty hard since day one. Instead, I asked, “Why do you think that is?”
His tone was self-deprecating. “Prison fucked my head up, probably.”
I approached the desk where he sat and pulled up a chair, my heart clenching for him. I couldn’t even imagine what prison would be like. “Did something happen to you while you were in there?” My voice was soft.
Stu arched a brow. “Do I look like the sort of bloke that ‘something’ would happen to? Fuck no, Andrea. But I saw it happening to others, and more. Every time I close my eyes at night, I see it. Makes me feel sick.”
I tried resisting the urge to have a peek at Stu’s page, but my willpower barely lasted five minutes before I clicked on his profile to snoop. I was such a weak-willed human being.
Scrolling down, I saw that most of the posts on his wall were from other people, a lot of them congratulating him on his early release. I found it weird, but then again, I wasn’t from that world. So why was I so interested?
I avoided answering that question the same way I avoided thinking about my debt. Seemingly, it was my coping method in many areas of life.
Aside from a few funny memes, I couldn’t really find any posts he’d written himself, and it further piqued my concerns about his writing. Obviously, he must’ve been able to read somewhat if he was on Facebook in the first place, but the question was how much.
There were a lot of family pictures he’d been tagged in, and well, his brothers were certainly an attractive bunch. Stu was definitely the best looking, with his dark hair and eyes. The rest of his brothers had lighter hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also the tallest, and studying them all together, I thought he might be the eldest, too.
I startled when somebody spoke, immediately shutting down the page. Seriously, you’d swear I’d just been looking at porn.
“Miss Anderson, I haven’t received any invite to the group yet,” said Harold with a hint of impatience. He didn’t like to be left waiting for things. I noticed Stu shoot him an arch look and remembered the first day when I’d had to quell a potential argument between the two of them over seating.
“I’m sorry, Harold. I got caught up sending an email,” I lied. “I’ll get on those invites right away.”
“Or he could just wait for you to be finished with what you’re doing,” said Stu, one arm resting casually on the back of his chair.
“It’s already been five minutes and the bell is going to ring for lunch any second,” Harold complained, which only functioned to bother Stu further.
“And she’s in charge,” Stu countered. “So quit being a whiny little bitch and wait until she’s ready.”
“Stu!” I exclaimed, while several of the other students gasped their surprise at his aggression. Sure, Harold wasn’t exactly a favourite in the class, but no one would ever think to speak to him like Stu just had. “That’s quite enough,” I continued, my voice hard. The bell chimed right after I said it and everybody stood from their seats, probably relieved for an excuse to leave.
“I’ll send the invites during lunch, everyone,” I called then shot Stu a pointed look. “Stay back a minute. I need a word.” It felt like I was constantly holding him back to have words, but I just couldn’t let behaviour like that slide. He wasn’t my first student to have teething problems while adapting to classroom etiquette, yet I was undecided whether it was his upbringing or perhaps arrogance.
“That was completely uncalled for,” I said once everyone was out of the room.
“What? I was only saying what everybody else was thinking. That bloke is constantly complaining about shit. Someone needed to call him on it.”
“Not like that, Stu. That’s not how we speak to each other in this classroom. It’s about respect, not name calling. You’re breaking the rules of behaviour.”
He scrunched up his brows. “Just because I called him a whiny little bitch? I’m sure he’s been called worse.”
“Harold is fifty-seven years old and about half your height. He’s also been out of the education system for almost forty years. You can’t imagine how scary that is for a person. He basically has to learn how to learn all over again from scratch.”
“We’ve all been out of school for a long time, Andrea. I know exactly how it feels, but I don’t go around complaining about every little thing.”
“That’s because you’re stronger than he is. Try to have a little empathy, Stu. Stepping into someone else’s shoes will help you see that we’re all struggling, and that way you’ll learn tolerance. You can’t just go around telling people off because they deal with things in different ways than you do.”
He ran a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. “I just don’t like him talking to you like that, okay? It’s disrespectful.”
Now I laughed. “Coming from someone who’s disrespected me countless time in the past week.”
“I haven’t disrespected you. I just talk to you how I’d talk to anyone. And I think you’re gorgeous, so . . . yeah, when I like a bird I tend to be a little full on. Sorry. I also haven’t been around women for a long time, so I’m kinda rusty.” His expression turned self-conscious, which oddly looked good on him.
I couldn’t seem to hide my blush at his compliment, even if I did dislike being referred to as a ‘bird’. “If what you said on your first day is to be believed, then you didn’t waste too much time getting reacquainted,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
His gaze flicked up, his hazel eyes turning dark and introspective. “Yeah. Right.”
It felt like I’d struck a nerve, and I immediately felt bad for making light of his time in prison. I frowned. “That comment was in poor taste. I apologise.”
Stu’s hand went from his hair down to rub at his jaw. It was a very nice jaw. I couldn’t help noticing. “Don’t apologise. I just, what I said that day was bullshit. I was peacocking or whatever they call it. Truth is, I haven’t been with anyone since I got out. Haven’t had an appetite for women at all, really. It’s kind of depressing.”
I didn’t bring up the fact that he’d been hitting on me pretty hard since day one. Instead, I asked, “Why do you think that is?”
His tone was self-deprecating. “Prison fucked my head up, probably.”
I approached the desk where he sat and pulled up a chair, my heart clenching for him. I couldn’t even imagine what prison would be like. “Did something happen to you while you were in there?” My voice was soft.
Stu arched a brow. “Do I look like the sort of bloke that ‘something’ would happen to? Fuck no, Andrea. But I saw it happening to others, and more. Every time I close my eyes at night, I see it. Makes me feel sick.”
