I shouldn’t have come back.

But of course, I did.

Same time, same day. Mr. Harris hadn’t replied to my text, hadn’t even acknowledged me when I walked through his door.

But I knew he saw me.

He always did.

Tonight, I dressed differently. Not even pretending to be innocent anymore. A thin sweater that dipped low across my chest and a skirt so short, one wrong step would reveal everything.

Because that’s what I wanted.

For him to see.

For him to snap again.

...