I picked up the book from the bed; my grip tightened on the hardcover as I reread the message.
YOU WILL NEVER WIN HIS HEART, I ASSURE YOU, BECAUSE HE WILL SEE YOU AS A SLUT. WATCH AND SEE.
A threat it is. Her tone was obviously aggressive and condescending; it swirled with so much confidence as if she had control over my fate.
Whatever she was planning, I had a clue; hopefully, I could prepare myself for the worst. Her intentions were painfully clear now that she had given me a hint. She is after my relationship with Mr. Clinton, and one thing that keeps bugging me is the question of why.
Why does she want to interfere with my quest for his heart?
What will she gain by doing all of this?
She expects me to shake in my boots because it seems that was the essence of the message she left behind.
I glanced at my door, my anger crawling to the surface. I very much wanted to go back there and confront her, but I reminded myself it was no use. I needed to tread carefully and not foolishly.
I closed my diary and tossed it back onto the bed. Crouching down, I cleaned up the mess that she caused, fighting against every bit of me that was so desperate to retaliate.
I realized that maybe I couldn’t solve the issue alone; perhaps telling Mr. Clinton might ease my worry a little.
I sighed, coming to a decision and terms with the intense battle of wits.
*****
“It’s the weekend; a perfect day to study!” I exclaimed, shooting my arms out as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
I grinned, tying up my hair into a ponytail, ready to dive into the study session with Mr. Clinton. Well, that was just a strategic excuse to strike up a conversation with him because I had a very important topic to discuss with him: “The Erin’s topic.”
I struck a pose in front of the mirror as I admired my pink new tank top, a large black wolf emblazoned across the front, its piercing yellow eyes seeming to stare back at me. Its sharp teeth and claws were making me feel fierce and fearless, with a sense of confidence and strength as the wolf’s fierce expression matched my own determined mood.
I’m ready to take on the day, and Erin’s taunts and threats are going down.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder, feeling a sense of empowerment wash over me. My lips curled up into a thin smile as I bounced with eager energy.
I clutched my anatomy textbook and jotter to my chest, making my way to the pool, a serene area situated in the middle of the duplex, aka Mr. Clinton’s new favorite spot.
As I reached the pool, I was welcomed by the water’s glassy surface that reflected like a mirror, illuminating the place with sparkling and extravagant rays.
At the corner of the pool, I found Mr. Clinton seated on a lounge chair; he had a long brown bathrobe donned around him that matched the color of his eyes. His damp stubble cascaded on his forehead as his face drooped over his magazine.
Whoa, did he change his haircut?
I think I should change mine too.
I approached him, plunking my foot on the ground to let him know I had arrived.
“Good morning, Mr. Clinton! How’s the morning working out for ya?” I buzzed with enthusiasm, a smile spreading on my face.
Mr. Clinton lifted his face, his eyes wandering over me. “What are you up to, Sarah?” he asked, finding my usual exuberance incredulous.
I chuckled, grabbing a chair close to the pool. “Why do you ask that? It’s obvious I came to study…”
I grinned, placing the textbook on his lap and batting my eyebrows.
He fixed his piercing gaze on me, scrutinizing me without blinking for a second; slowly, my grin crumbled, washing away like a flood until my expression turned flat.
Damn, this man always seems to get a reaction out of me.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” I asked, peering down at my clothes. “Do I have anything on me?”
He ignored me, still giving that intense fatherly look. How dare he; only my father gives me that look. He should be looking at me with love instead.
My lips contorted as we continued our staring match. I had an idea to stop the impasse; he thinks he is the only one who can get a reaction out of me. I’ll show him.
“Mr. Clinton, do you like what you see?” I purred, biting my lips as I swayed my shoulder seductively.
Instantly, he averted his eyes away and leisurely flipped his magazine. “I don’t think I am ready for whatever you are up to,” he said as if bored by my presence.
“Exams are fast approaching, and I need your help. After all, my father left me in your care so…” I trailed off purposefully, hinting at my request.
He didn’t respond; instead, he reached for his phone, swiped the screen, and dialed a number.
I watched him put his phone to his ear, wondering what he was up to.
“Mr. Clinton…”
“Don’t worry; I got your request. I am well acquainted with a professor who might accept you as a student.” Those words rolled out of his mouth like butter.
I gawked, staring at him in disbelief. “You what?”
“You heard me,” he said, the call still connecting.
Now I knew he was damn serious.
“But I didn’t ask for some old professor; I want you to tutor me..” I protested, and he cut me off immediately.
“I know, but I’m not available at the moment. Please try again later; as for now, you have a professor.”
He’s got to be kidding me.
“Thanks, but I don’t want one… just cut the call… please…” I begged before he finally placed his phone away.
I let out a sigh, my expression turning serious. “I should probably go straight to the point.” I paused, discreetly scanning the whole place for signs of Erin hiding behind a wall. Thankfully, I didn’t see her shadow around. “Mr. Clinton, I want you to hear me out and promise me you will believe whatever I have to say.”
He sensed my change of demeanor, hunching up on the chair as he stared at me attentively. “Go ahead, what is it?”
“It’s about…”
“Two mugs of tea coming right at ya…” A familiar vibrant voice interrupted me; my heart skipped a beat as I realized I was woefully wrong.
The bitch is everywhere, monitoring my every move.
“Good morning, Sarah! Just got up from bed?” she said with a smile on her face, as usual. A fake and counterfeit expression that always makes me want to gag.
She stretched out the two mugs, her smile widening almost reaching her ears. “Here you go; I thought both of you might need some refreshments for the… class you are about to have,” she clipped, with emphasis on the last part of the statement.
Our eyes locked, and for a brief second, I saw a warning signal flicker in her gaze.
I looked away, roughly inhaling with seething anger. It seemed I got the shorter end of the stick again.