The Saving Angels Series: Books 1-3 (6 page)

My mind was preoccupied by the things Sam and I seemed to share. It was just a little wacky that we had so much in common. Like the fact that she had been in foster care, and I was adopted. It seemed odd that both of us were being raised by people other than our real parents. That, combined with the fact that Sam claimed to have
emotional issues
also… Were adopted kids just more sensitive, and did I just have a stronger case of it?

“He’s a babe,” a short mousy looking girl all but squealed to her seat mate. “Have you seen him?” she asked.

My thoughts were interrupted by a conversation going on in front of me.

“Yeah, I saw him. He’s totally hot, he looks barely older than us, but he has to be older, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to intern here. I bet he’s no older than twenty though,” replied her seatmate.

“I don’t care how old he is,” piped in a third voice, “I would love to spend some quality detention time with him.”

I couldn’t believe they were talking about an intern like that, he was practically their teacher. I thought it showed bad taste to be panting after some teacher. I was raised to respect my teachers and to treat them like you would treat a parent.

I shot a look of disgust at them and then re-opened my book. This time I was able to lose myself in the pages and before I knew it the bell was ringing.

I gathered up my things and headed out of the room ready to distance myself from the gossiping girls. They had talked through the whole period, and though I had been able to tune out their words, their annoying voices were harder to ignore.

Sam was waiting for me right where she said she would be.

“Do you buy or brown bag it?” she asked.

“Brown bag,” I said, holding up my lunch for her to see.

“Good! Me too, let’s eat outside, it’s a nice day.”

Everyone had the same idea and many of the seats were taken up outside. We headed for a big oak tree and settled under it.

“We could never do this at my old school.”

“Where was your old school?” Sam asked.

“A pinpoint town on a map, called Bozeman.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s way up north in Monta….”

“Oh my God, he is so gorgeous…” squealed a nearby voice.

I barely controlled my groan.
Great
.
The gossip hounds were back and they were obviously still talking about the new intern.

Sam laughed at the look on my face. “I see you’ve met our
Lush Trio
,” she said in a low voice.

I let out a loud unexpected snort of laughter. My burst momentarily snagged the attention of the trio. They turned and glared at me for a moment, like I was unworthy to interrupt their conversation.

“
Lush Trio
, that’s perfect,” I told Sam in a quieter voice.

“It fits them to a tee. They are always discussing some guy or texting each other pictures of some guy that grabs their attention.”

I looked over and sure enough, they were huddled around one of their phones, obviously looking at the picture of the
Hot Intern
. I was surprised they had their cell phones out. In my old school, cell phones had to stay in your book bag all day with the ringer off. If a teacher saw your phone out, or heard it ringing, they would confiscate it.

I commented on this to Sam. “Oh they tried to set the same rules here, but after a few angry calls from some of the parents, the Dean changed his mind. You’re still supposed to have them off during class time, but nobody listens, they just turn the volume down.”

“My mom would have a stroke if she caught me ogling a teacher or an
intern
,” I said a little louder than intended.

My remark gained the attention of the trio once again.

Sam and I snorted at the trio’s obvious disgust as they stalked away. I was definitely not winning any brownie points with them.

After the trio’s departure, Sam and I talked about trivial things. Favorite books, movies, and other likes and dislikes. We were amazed at the many ways we were alike, and joked that we could be long lost twins, separated at birth.

“I’d buy it if we looked even remotely alike,” Sam quipped.

She had a point. I was nearly 5’ 8”, almost 7” taller than her. Not to mention the fact that she was cute and petite and looked like she belonged on some football field, cheering her team on. Plus, she had movie star brown hair that swung from her shoulder like an advertisement for a shampoo commercial. Her skin glowed from a natural tan, which
helped to accentuate her warm brown eyes. If she was taller, she would have made a great model. I felt extremely plain, just standing next to her.

The bell rang as we finished our lunch. Tossing our trash in a wooden trash barrel, we headed toward our fifth period class. We would finally meet the much talked about young male intern that had all the girls buzzing throughout the school.

Sam and I choose seats together. Sam pulled out her book while I took out a notebook.

This was my first world history class, and I was looking forward to it. I was a secret history buff and enjoyed learning about other countries. My mom and I often watched the History channel together at night.

I looked over at Sam to ask her a question, but she was already engrossed in her book. Deciding not to interrupt her, I pulled out a pen and started doodling in the margin of my paper.

I knew the instant the new intern walked in the door. Every girl except for Sam and I seemed to sigh. “Oh brother,” I muttered without looking up.

Sam stifled a snigger as she continued to read, she had also heard the sigh of adoration from all the girls.

“All right, no books needed today. Instead, we’re going to do a warm up exercise to get to know each other,” said a warm masculine voice.

I looked up in surprise; the voice seemed so familiar. I raised my eyes and found them locked on the warmest brown eyes I had ever seen. They were like pools of hot melted chocolate. I felt like I was swimming in them. Finally pulling my eyes away from his, I scanned the rest of his face. All the girls were right; he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His lips were full and inviting with cheekbones just high enough for his perfectly chiseled face to give him a gentle ruggedness. I wondered if his golden honey colored skin was as soft and warm as it looked. His light auburn hair was just long enough to run my fingers through.

Wait a minute
. This is a teacher, well, almost a teacher but still, to be sitting here daydreaming about touching his skin and running my fingers through his hair? What was wrong with me? I have never looked at another guy like this, and here I was fantasizing about my teacher. Except that, he didn’t look like a typical teacher. He looked only slightly older than the students sitting in his class. I knew that was no excuse, but I was desperately trying to justify my strange reaction to him.

I looked down at my desk to regain my dignity, and then glanced over at Sam, who gave me a puzzled look. She seemed to sense that something was going on. I looked away so Sam could not read my face.

I heard the scratching of chalk and looked up as he wrote his name on the board. Mark Russo.
A regular name for a regular guy
, I thought. “Just a regular guy, regular guy, regular guy,” I chanted to myself. If he’s a regular guy, why is my heart racing like I ran a marathon? It was true; my heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. My mom had encouraged me to give others a chance, but this was ridiculous and surely not what she had in mind.

“I’m going to write a few things about myself on the board and while I do that, I want you to answer the questions I’ve written down on the worksheet. This will help us get to know each other while I am here,” he told the class.

I was still staring at his name on the board when he turned around. I meant to look down, but it was too late. The moment his eyes met mine, it was worse than the first time. I felt like someone had sucked all of the air out of me, and had to fight to catch my breath. The strange thing was that it seemed to affect him the same way. I could see that his knuckles had turned white where he gripped the desk. Fortunately, no one but Sam seemed to be aware that anything was going on.

He finally broke eye contact with me and began to pass out the papers. He passed them out individually instead of just handing a stack to each row to pass back.

My heart raced faster when I realized that in a moment he would be standing right beside me.

My palms began to sweat as he approached, and my breath came out in shallow gasps. I had no idea what was happening to me. I felt like a star struck celebrity watcher who was drunk off his presence.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was standing beside me. I willed myself not to look up, but I had no control. It was like some invisible force was governing my every action.

Our hands touched as he handed me the paper, and suddenly I was assaulted by a flood of unexplainable feelings of familiarity, almost as if we had already met before.

I felt myself fading away to where nothing else mattered except holding his hand and never letting go. The draw of his touch was magnetic. I didn’t know who he was, but I no longer cared.

Someone snickered behind me. “Guess she’s not the goody two-shoes she was trying to portray earlier,” said a snide voice that I recognized as one of the trio’s.

He stepped back, breaking our connection. I had to bite back a cry of distress as I felt his hand pull away. My hand suddenly felt incomplete away from his and I could see by the look on his face that he felt it also.

He walked down the rest of the aisles and made quick work of passing out the rest of the papers. I watched his retreating back, wondering what all of this could mean.

He wrote examples on the chalkboard of what kind of information we should include on the sheet that was handed out. He was currently a student at UC of Santa Cruz, and had gotten his masters degree the year before in physics, and was finishing up his PH.D. The next item he added was that he was interning at the school for his thesis, but it was the last bit of information that created a buzz among the students, his date of birth. It didn’t take a math genius to figure out that he was only eighteen.

The rest of the class passed in a blur for me as I tried to come to terms with what it all meant.

I had never even looked at another guy, let alone fantasized like this. He was practically an adult for goodness sake, although he was, only a year older. Still, I wasn’t the type of girl to chase after some guy, especially a teacher. I was ashamed with the way I was acting. There must be a simple explanation for my reaction to him.

The bell rang.

I looked at the empty paper in front of me and crumpled it into a ball.

Sam and I stood up together and filed toward the front of the room. Sam dropped her paper off on his desk while I threw my blank one away. We were the last two in the room, and as we passed him on our way out, I vowed to ignore him and kept my eyes firmly on the ground as I shuffled out of the room.

I felt a slight pressure in my hand as I passed by him. I looked and was surprised to see a folded up paper in the palm of my hand. He had passed me a note taking care to not to touch my skin. I looked at him one last time as I left the room, and was surprised at the expression on his face.

He seemed pleased, like he knew something I didn’t.

Sam looked intrigued as we walked down the hall.

“What was that all about?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, slightly embarrassed. “I felt a connection like when you and I met, but a hundred times stronger. I was drawn to him like I have never been drawn to anyone else. Strange, isn’t it?” I asked, not sure what Sam would think.

Sam looked thoughtful, like she was trying to figure something out. “Yeah, it is strange,” she said at long last.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I went through the motions, but my mind was lost, wrapped up in thoughts about
him
.

I had always thought the idea of love at first sight was silly, but there was definitely something irresistible about him, and not just because of his strikingly good looks. This
was something kindred, my hand still tingled from his touch, and I had an odd warm sensation throughout my whole body.

This is crazy
, I thought to myself.
It would never work
. First of all, my mom would freak if I came home and told her I wanted to date an intern teacher from my school, and second, the school would obviously not allow it.

“Krista, are you there? Hello, anyone in there?” Sam asked, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I shook my head to clear away his image. The last bell for the day must have rung, because only Sam and I remained in the classroom. Even the teacher had left the room.

“What a wasted day of school that was,” I muttered to Sam, as we gathered our books and headed out the door.

“Missed homeroom, neglected to do the assignment in fifth period, and then proceeded to sit through the rest of the day like a zombie. My mom would be real pleased if she heard how my day had gone,” I said with disgust ringing in my voice.