I laughed and nodded my head, agreeing with him. Yet I had no idea who he was talking about. Guns and Who? But the last thing I wanted to do was show my age, so I played along and kept my mouth shut.

“You like Guns N’ Roses?” he asked, catching me off guard.

I scratched my chin and looked up at the ceiling, trying to come up with something to say. If I said yes, then he’d more than likely ask me about my favorite song—something else that I would never be able to fake. Saying no would be the safest bet, but then it’d leave him open to ask me why not, or what kind of music I listened to. And at the moment, the only singer I could think of was Britney Spears. And I was not about to claim her as my favorite.

“You have no idea who they are, do you?” he asked while laughing teasingly.

My eyes met his and I felt defeated. The gig was up. I couldn’t fake it anymore. I shrugged and watched his grin grow even wider. “No. Not at all. What gave it away?”

“You did. Seems you have a tell, Miss Bree. Good to know.”

“A tell? What do you mean? And why is it good to know?”

“You didn’t know the answer, so your eyes moved around without focusing on anything. Like you were trying to find the answers somewhere in the air. And it’s good to know because I’m your teacher—I need to know when my students don’t know something. It’s my job to teach you, to make sure you have the answers before you leave my class.”

Before I could respond with anything more than a nod, other kids began to filter in, their voices growing louder and louder as they made their way to their empty seats.

“Looks like class is starting.” He winked and then stood up.

My jaw dropped.

Axel Taylor was tall, and even through his dress shirt and nice jeans, I could tell how well built he was. He had a trim waist, broad shoulders, and arms that filled out his sleeves nicely. The denim hugged his thighs the way they should on a real man—not like the boys walking around the halls of this school. Watching him move across the front of the class, I realized I’d probably fail American History. There would be no way I’d be able to concentrate on what he taught, not when he ran his hands through his thick, dark-blond hair and smiled that way.

“Oh my God, he is so hot. I wonder if he’s single,” the girl who sat in front of me whispered a little too loudly to the girl next to her. Rebecca and Jill. They were both cheerleaders and, hands down, the two prettiest girls in school. Overhearing their conversation caused my stomach to drop and a gloomy mood of worthlessness to settle in.

Not that any of us stood a chance with Mr. Taylor—he was a teacher and we were under-aged kids—but against those two, I certainly wouldn’t even be an option. And thinking about that made me realize that even without the competition of Rebecca and Jill, I still wouldn’t be good enough to catch his attention. Guys like Axel Taylor didn’t go for girls like me. If I were being honest, guys in general didn’t go for girls like me. I was quiet and kept to myself. I got along with the kids at school, I wasn’t bullied or anything, but I never really fit in anywhere.

Kind of hard to fit in when you lived a life like mine.

“Since when has a guy’s relationship status ever stopped you?” Jill teased.

Rebecca smiled and twirled her hair confidently around her finger. I watched as the silky strand wrapped round and round, and wondered if everything was so effortless to her all the time, or if she ever had to worry about anything.

Mr. Taylor droned on and on for nearly an hour, yet I didn’t hear one word he uttered. It would’ve been nice had the reason been because I was too busy staring at his ass or watching his mouth move as he spoke, but that wasn’t the case. Insecurities had built up too high in my mind, and I couldn’t find the strength to get past them. No one needed to point out my shortcomings, because I knew them all too well myself. I’d never be the pretty girl in class. At least I wasn’t the ugly one, but being the invisible, plain Jane wasn’t too far off. I was smart, but not in the geeky kind of way. It was pretty much the only thing I had going for me.

Maybe my mother was right when she said I’d never amount to anything.

The bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats. I hated the melancholy that encased me as I stuffed my notebook back into my bag and slung it over my shoulder. I despised those all-too-familiar feelings of worthlessness that overwhelmed me with every step I took. Once they dug their way in, I couldn’t get them out. Insecurity ate away at me—the termite of my emotions—with no regard to the damage it left behind.

“Everything okay, Bree?” His deep voice became softer as he stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest between the two desks at the front of my row, blocking me from getting out. He didn’t seem pissed, more like concerned. Although, no one ever looked at me that way, so I could’ve been wrong.

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, wondering why he bothered to halt my exit. No one had ever cared enough to ask me if I was all right before, and I didn’t know how to take it. “I’m fine, Mr. Taylor. Thanks.” I just wanted to leave and move on to my next class, away from this man that had somehow made me feel even worse about myself.

“Are you sure? You were talkative and alert before class, but then became really quiet once the first bell rang. And I’m pretty sure you mentally checked out during my lecture.” He dipped his head, as if lowering it to my level.

“I guess I’m not used to waking up so early yet. My brain must still be stuck on vacation mode.” I tried to laugh, hoping it would ease some of this heaviness around us. More than that, hoping it would clear his worried expression from his face. But the forced chuckle sounded pathetic, even to my own ears.

His arms dropped to his sides as he let out an exaggerated sigh. Could an exhale sound disappointed? “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t last long. Try to stay awake tomorrow. I’d hate to bore you to sleep.” And with that, he backed away and let me slide out of the row.

I sensed his eyes on me the entire way, and I couldn’t breathe again until I was out of the room.

At least the rest of the day passed without incident. I kept to myself, managed to pay attention in class, and made it home without any more confrontations. Yet my mood remained somber and nothing seemed to make it any better. Maybe it’s because I knew my mom would be home soon, and that was almost as bad as the familiar feelings of self-doubt Mr. Taylor managed to draw out of me.

I rushed around the house, making sure I had everything cleaned up and in its proper place. Even though no one had been home during the day, there were always things I found to clean. And there were always things she found unclean. I could never win at her head games.

The buzzer on the dryer sounded moments before the garage door closed. I knew I’d have to wait until she went up to her room before folding the laundry, because she hated seeing a pile of clothes—even if they were clean and fresh out of the dryer. But if she waited too long to head up to her room, then I’d have to run the dryer again, because if she hated anything more than a pile of laundry, it was wrinkled clothes.

She walked to the fridge, and I studied her every step, wondering how long it would be before I could breathe again. But once she pulled out her box of wine, I knew it would be a while before I could relax. Quite possibly all night.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked after pouring a glass of the pink-colored liquid, not stopping until it was almost to the brim of the fishbowl-sized glass.

“I have lasagna in the oven. And I’m making garlic bread to go with it.”

“Better be homemade and not that store-bought shit.”

“It’s homemade. With real garlic, just the way you like it.” I’d made sure to pick up fresh ingredients at the store the day before, and knew to use them first at the beginning of the week before they were no longer considered fresh. Especially since, now that school had started, I wouldn’t have time to hit the market after school and still get my chores done before she came home.