“Your heating isn’t working,” He informs me in a snobbish tone, making me clench my hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes,” I reply through gritted teeth. “I’m aware.”

“Why do you even have this thing?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run a hand over the dashboard, and amidst the growing irritation, I feel a sense of pride when he couldn’t find a single speck of dust.

“This model is obsolete,” He comments, and raises a brow at me when I mutter something under my breath. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

My jaw is taut, “Nothing.”

For a moment, I think I see a smirk on his face but when I blink, it’s gone. My eyes narrow as I study him from the rear-view mirror.

I can still see the annoyance simmering underneath his surface, but he hides it well under his thinly veiled disdain for Gertha. I force my mind away from his shitty personality.

He looks rich.

Well, anybody driving that kind of a car was probably rolling in dough.

He is very attractive though. His hair is dark and thick, curling at the base of his neck. Those silky strands would make any woman want to bury her hands in it. They look soft, and I can bet they smell great.

I sniff derisively.

When he looks at me, with a brow arched, I try for a severe look that would not betray my train of thoughts.

His face is chiselled as if by the angels themselves. I can see the defined jaw, the planes of his face, the arch of his nose, and I bite my tongue. Bitterly, I think, he can afford to be an asshole with his money and good looks.

“Is something bothering you?” Those gray eyes are looking directly at me and I can’t help but be distracted by the contrast of them with their darker, well-shaped eyebrows.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I tell him, irritated at myself for being even mildly attracted to this rude, overbearing man.

“Turn right, here,” He orders, and I am forced to slow the car down. The snow is falling pretty hard, the car has turned so cold, and with my vision obscured by the snow, I can feel my frustration building.

Raising my hand, I slam by fist into the heater, making the man next to me jump.

When I hear the familiar whirring sound, I bare my teeth in a triumphant grin, “There! We have heat now.”

I hear the scoff, and ignore it, deliberately.

If he wants to be ungrateful, that is his problem.

“Your car needs to be tuned,” He says after a few seconds. “And it needs a paint job.”

That was it.

That was all I could bear.

How dare he insult my baby?

Stopping the car, I turn my head and pin him with a withering glare, “Look, mister. I hit your car. I’m sorry. I’m still being a decent human being and giving you a ride to the pits of hell, or wherever you need to be going right now. Don’t sit here and tell me what Gertha needs or doesn’t need. Not everyone can afford to drive a fancy ass car in a fancy ass suit.”

He doesn’t say anything, just studies me, “Who the hell is Gertha?”

I open my mouth, and then close it with an audible snap, “You are the single, most rudest person I have ever met.”

I could tell he was enjoying this. I don’t know how I knew whether it was the way the corner of his lips were curled upward, or the way his eyes were watching me. I just knew.

And I hated him.

I wanted to drive as fast as I could and drop him at his destination, but I value my own life. So, I chose to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. Not that he said anything more. He just looked ahead and sometimes I would feel his steady gaze on me.

I didn’t want him looking at me.

“Here. We’re here. Please get out of my car.” I don’t even bother to be nice, letting him see the flash of temper in my eyes.

The man tucks his tongue in his cheek, and those gray eyes looking at me, make me tense.

“Thank you.”

I blink, “Excuse me?”

Part of me had been all revved up for whatever sarcastic comment he might throw at me now, that I wasn’t expecting to be thanked in such a polite manner.

“You seem to be under the impression that I have no manners,” He raises a brow.

With that, he closes the door, and walks away.

I close my eyes and rest my head on the steering wheel for a whole of two minutes, before I start the car and drive away.

How much ever I wanted to forget about the encounter, I can’t seem to get the rude man out of my mind for the entire weekend. More specifically, those beautiful gray eyes, the intense way they had moved over my face, were imprinted on my brain.

So, when I went to school on Monday morning, my mood was sullen.

As I watch the students go around the classroom, mingling with each other as they work together on the project I had assigned them, my mind wanders away.

He hadn’t said anything that had been beyond derisive and rude, so why was I still thinking about him? I force a smile on my face as a student approaches me, but it disappears when I think back to that snowy evening.

Scarlett was immensely interested in my encounter, but after being probed endlessly, I went straight into my room and shut the door.

I rest my chin in my hands as I stare at the students, idly. Maybe the reason why I can’t stop thinking about him is because the accident had shaken me at the core. As my heart beats faster, I feel a sense of satisfaction at resolving this issue.

I was extremely nervous while driving to school this morning, my knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel.

A fresh wave of anger rolls through me as it occurs to me that if that rude stranger hadn’t handled the situation the way he did, I probably would not be so worked up over this whole thing.

As I stand up suddenly, my chair falls on to the ground with a loud clutter. I ignore the way everyone looks up, making my way to the toilet, I find myself frowning.

I wash my face with cold water, and as the water drips down my face, I grip the edge of the sink with both hands and study the freckles that are splattered over my pale nose. My eyes are a dark shade of brown, and right now they are filled with indignant anger. My light-brown hair is tied up in a tight bun, and I pull out the pins, watching it unfurl in slow motion. It finally settles at the base of my back, and I run my fingers through it, before deftly tying it into a braid with nimble fingers.

“You’re not going to let this get to you, Abby. And you’re not going to let that asshole get to you!” I growl at my image in the mirror.

Those intense gray eyes flash in my eyes, and I groan.

What was it about those stupid eyes?

Ugh, maybe Scarlett was right. My pathetic love life has started affecting my judgement. The sight of the door opening, had me turn around and I smile politely at the older teacher who nods before going about her business.

I return to the classroom.

The rest of the day passes-by quickly enough and when I find a small dark-haired boy waiting outside my classroom for me, I grin.

Aaron looks so nervous, fidgeting with his hands, his Spiderman bag pack snug on his shoulders.

“Miss Johnson!” His entire countenance lights up as I open the door to let him in.

He has brought his own colour pencils, I note. When he sees me looking at them, he looks excited, “I asked my dad to buy me a new set.”

He shows me the pencil-shaped holder, and I have to withhold my laughter at the pride in his eyes.

“It looks like a huge pencil,” I say, trying to share his excitement. As I had suspected, my acknowledgement of his ‘cool’ pencil box thrills him.

“All right!” I clap my hands, “Let’s get to work.”

I am teaching Shakespeare in class these days, so I had planned to design some swords for some role playing. I already had the cardboard cut-outs, but I needed to colour them in.

I wasn’t expecting Aaron’s delight at being handed a fake sword. When I caught him waving it about, I gave him a stern look, all the while wanting to do the same. I had many little cousins and I used to play with them all the time when I was back home.

“En garde!” I felt the sword poking me in the back, and a wild grin on Aaron’s face.

I was not going to fall for that, I warned myself. We still had three more left to colour in.

“En garde is for fencing.” I tell him.

“Look at me, Miss Abby!”

I didn’t know when he had transitioned from calling me ‘Miss Johnson’ to ‘Miss Abby’ within the past two hours, but I could see that he was having fun. Right now, he was standing on top of my desk, wearing one of the hats the students had brought in for the small role play for tomorrow.

“En garde, you scoundrel!” Aaron cries out, waving his sword about.

Casting a disappointed look at the unfinished swords, I get to my feet, ready to join in, “You’re doing it wrong.”

I pick up one of the unfinished swords and use my wrist to flick it around.

After all, I had a lot of practice.

I could tell that Aaron liked watching a lot of pirate movies with all the phrases he spouted out. For some reason, I was dubbed the evil maiden and he, the brave pirate.

“Ahoy, matey!” He shouts as he clashes his sword against mine, jumping down from the desk at some point.

The fight was fierce, but I refused to give in.

“Off with her head!” He cries out and swipes at me, making me jump backwards and landing against a very solid person, who grips me by my arms to steady.

“Oh, crap! Sorry, I – “

I turn around to face the person, and my jaw clinch.

It was the stranger from last week, staring at me with open amusement.