Chapter 20 Not Your Father
JAXON’S POV
The consistent tap of the pen was getting on my nerves, but I kept my head lowered and returned to grading the assignments that had been turned in for me to grade.
Nancy sat right across from me, and the tap of the pen that I found grating was her handiwork.
Twice, I had lifted my head to her, hoping she would take that as a cue to stop, but each time, she had lifted her brow, and it made me wonder if she was doing it just to spite me.
It was just the two of us in the room, making it very silent. An hour had passed already, and I hadn't said a word to her.
She hadn't attempted to break the silence either, and I thought she wouldn't speak until the set time for her detention was up, but unexpectedly, she crossed her arms when I glanced at her again.
I saw the fire burn in her eyes before she even parted her lips to speak.
"Mr. Landon, we need to talk."
I paused, then let my pen drop and leaned back in my seat. "I believe we already did."
She stared blankly at me for a minute, then shook her head, "No, we didn't."
Her tone was unusually firm, and for some reason, I found it amusing.
I closed the book before me gently, "What exactly would you like to discuss?"
She gave me a pointed look, then uncrossed her hands only to cross them again. "You're punishing me for doing absolutely nothing..."
"You did do something," I cut in before she could finish. "You passed a note around in my class."
"Mason passed a note to me, and I took it," She corrected, leaning forward slightly as though she needed to close the space between us. "It didn't even disrupt the class; you could have overlooked it."
"Overlooked it?" I repeated, watching her reaction carefully. "And what happens when someone else decides to do the exact same thing after I leave you unpunished?"
She bit down on her lower lip. It was obvious she had no answer to that.
"Nancy, you are responsible for your actions, and all that I am doing is holding you up to it."
"That's unfair." She shot at me.
My eyes narrowed at the rise of her voice, and I muttered sharply, "Careful."
"No," She stated hotly, completely ignoring my look. "You're the one who needs to be careful.
The silence that fell between us was deafening. I saw her pupils waver with regret for a second, but then her gaze hardened again.
She was obviously trying to put up a tough front. It was something Diana did sometimes, so I could easily spot it.
“You clearly know me,” She continued. “So why are you acting like I’m some troublemaker?”
My jaw tightened. "Knowing you doesn't erase what you did, and that is not the issue."
Genuinely, if someone were to ask me why I was being so hard on Nancy, I would have no response for them because I didn't know either.
Not just her, I had especially taken an interest in Mason Kravitz. He had been friends with Diana for a while now, and I had never had an issue with him, but ever since Nancy arrived, it suddenly felt as though my opinion of him had changed.
Even though I refused to admit it to myself, I was seeing him in a new light, and it wasn't a good one.
Besides that, I was growing noticeably irritable, and little things that I wouldn't have minded began to work me up.
And, the reason for all of these seemed to lie with the woman right in front of me.
Ever since her arrival, it felt like a switch had been flipped inside of me, and I began to act out of character.
Even now, as she confronted me, all I could think about was the bright smile she had shown to Mason.
"Well, what is the issue then?" Nancy's voice barged into my thoughts. Her nostrils flared as she watched me, and if that wasn't enough evidence of her anger, I didn't know what was.
I went silent for a while, trying to think of what the issue I'd mentioned was.
The answer I eventually gave sounded lame, even to my ears.
“You have no business being friends with Mason Kravitz.”
It was understandable that Nancy paused as though she had been frozen in time.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I sat up straighter.
Since I had already put it out there, all I could do was push forward.
Nancy's eyes narrowed on me, and then she said with slow precision, “You don’t get to decide who I’m friends with.”
It shouldn't have, but that statement worked me up in a way I never thought possible. I rose to my feet slowly.
“As long as you live in my house...”
“I’m not your daughter!”
The words echoed through the office.
“And you don’t control my life.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. For a long while, I couldn't bring myself to. The air thickened between us.
This time, it was not in the familiar way that always made my stomach clench but in a way that could only exist between two people who were filled with rage.
I stepped out of my seat and drew closer to her, much closer until I was standing right next to the chair she was seated on.
She turned slowly to me and met my gaze unflinchingly, then slowly repeated herself, "You are not my Father, and I am not Diana."
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then I leaned down slightly, bracing my hands on the desk behind her chair.
“Good,” I said quietly.
Her brows pulled together in evident confusion. “Good?”
“Yes.”
My voice dropped lower, coming out rougher than I intended.
“Because if you were my daughter, this conversation would have ended very differently.”
“And if you weren’t living under my roof,” I continued slowly, my gaze fixed on hers, “I wouldn’t be trying this hard to stay reasonable.”
Silence stretched, and her lips parted, “Stay reasonable about what?”
I held her gaze.
That was the problem.
I wasn’t sure what.