Made For Sin: 10 Wicked Reads of Bad Boys, Billionaires, and Bikers by Cara Layton

Author:Cara Layton
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Zirconia Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2014-07-01T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE: EBONY

The weather outside was grey and bitter, the wind gusts sinking ice into my bones. I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I stepped off the bus and strode toward the entrance of State's education building.

My boots were filled with lead because I knew the frigid temperature wouldn't compare with the cold snap my advisor, Dr. Lena Howell, had in store.

One of the requirements of my young adult lit class was that we go to a local elementary school, read, and tutor students with literacy problems. Most of my classmates had begun their field experience, and under regular circumstances, I would have jumped at the chance to work with kids. I had changed since I saw Max tear into that guy. It took all I had to even get out of bed in the morning. When I closed my eyes, I could still see his battered face and feel the unbridled rage coming off Max in waves.

I knocked on the door of Dr. Howell’s office, a series of timid taps, which barely sounded over the hustle and bustle in the hall. I felt relief flooding me as I turned to go. She wasn't in her office. I could put off the chewing out for a little longer.

"Miss Rivers," the voice dripped with ice and locked me in place.

I swallowed hard and pivoted slowly before forcing a smile, weaving in and out of the flurry in the hallway. "Dr. Howell!"

"I know you seem to have forgotten your obligations to your students at PS 016, but certainly you didn't plan on skipping our appointment today?"

"Of course not," I said quickly, ducking into her office. When she shut the door behind her, I pulled off my cap and loosened my scarf. The heat barely petered from the ancient central unit above our heads. The Robert's building was notorious for being drafty, but it suddenly seemed really hot in the room. The fact that Dr. Howell seemed to have the entire campus library packed in 50 square feet didn't help. Nor her dark beady eyes locked on me, her face sour as she sunk into her chair.

"So what's going on, Ebony?"

"B-Beg your pardon?"

"At the beginning of the semester you had such promise. Solid A in the class, constantly looking for ways to supplement the coursework and go deeper. What happened?"

It was kind of sobering to remember how different things had been four months ago. I settled in my classes, determined to wow my professors academically so I could have stellar recommendation letters to bolster my resume. I had been focused. It was the home stretch, my senior year, and I had been determined to finish strong.

And then I met Max.

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said quietly, after a moment. I concentrated on the hum of her computer, flexing my toes in my boots. My eyes darted to her bookshelves, and then the old clock ticking on the wall. Anything except the feel of her eyes on me.

Dr. Howell wasn't a stupid woman, and she so wasn't buying my naiveté.

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