Nicola Taylor
I massage my temples as I step into my classroom, bracing myself for the parade of parents awaiting me. I adore my kindergarten students, even the little troublemakers, but meeting their parents is the most daunting part of my job. While some parents are delightful, most are overbearing, with unrealistic expectations for their five-year-olds. Their questions range from typical concerns about eating habits to issues better suited for a pediatrician. I take my seat as parents start trickling in for the open house, each eager to discuss their child’s progress. I smile and share insights based on my experiences with their kids. By the time I reach my fifteenth parent, I force a smile and say, “Mrs. Lopez, you need to stop worrying so much. Billy is a great kid. He’s a bit less social than the others, but he will make friends in his own time. He’s an introvert, and that’s perfectly okay. There’s nothing wrong with your child. He’s lovely and a pleasure to teach.” Mrs. Lopez, visibly holding back tears, confides, “I worry because I’m a single mom and I have to work so much. He’s often alone, and I wish he had friends.” My heart aches for her. “I understand. I’ll make sure he sits with some of the friendlier students and encourage them to get to know each other. But even without friends, Billy is a sweetheart. You should be proud of him. You’re doing an amazing job.” She finally smiles, her relief palpable. “He loves you as his teacher. Anyway, I’ve been here for half an hour. Other parents are waiting. I’ll get out of your hair.” She stands up, and I smile back, wondering how I’ll get through the next fifteen parents. The next two hours blur by with complaints, concerns, and occasional blame. When the parent-teacher meeting finally ends, I feel drained and regretful about spending my Sunday this way. As I start packing up, I notice that Arabella’s father or nanny didn’t show up, which isn’t surprising. He never attends these meetings, but I was shocked that her nanny didn’t come either. The principal always bends over backward for these wealthy parents because of their generous donations to the school. Just as I’m about to leave, I hear a knock on the door. It’s my friend and fellow teacher, Steph. “Hey, we’re all heading out to eat and gossip about the parents. Want to join?” she asks excitedly. I shake my head. “I’ve spent half of my Sunday here. I think I need some time to myself.” The thought of a cold coffee and a grilled cheese makes my mouth water. I can’t wait to go home. As the door closes behind Steph, I let out a long sigh, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones. Parent-teacher meetings were always a mix of emotions, but today had been especially draining. I pick up my bag and start organizing the paperwork on my desk, thinking about the little moments from today that had made me smile—like Billy’s mother finally feeling reassured, even if only a little. Just as I’m about to turn off the lights, I hear another knock on the door. I consider ignoring it, but my sense of duty kicks in. “Come in,” I call out, trying to sound more energetic than I feel. The door opens, and to my surprise, our principal, Mrs. Black, steps in with the biggest smile on her face. She ushers in someone that makes my whole body freeze. What the actual fuck. Cole Harrington. The guy who made high school a living hell for me. What is he doing here? As my brain starts processing the information, my eyes widen. Arabella Harrington. Cole Harrington. She’s his daughter. How did I not know this? Maybe because she is a sweet but troubled child and he is a monster. “Ms. Taylor, you wouldn’t mind, would you?” Mrs. Black shakes me gently by my arm, snapping me out of my daze. “The meetings are over. It’s five o'clock,” I murmur absent-mindedly, looking up at the man towering over the two of us at a height of 6’2, who was too busy reading something on his phone. “Ms. Taylor,” Mrs. Black flashes a smile at Cole before glaring at me. “That’s fine. He’s a busy man but also a good father. He’s come here, and I want you to help him out. Alright?” I suck in a deep breath, struggling to speak, and end up just nodding my head. “Alright. I’ll leave you two be. Thank you for coming, Mr. Harrington, and thank you for last year’s donation. The children absolutely love the playground.” She flashes him another big smile before leaving as he continues to act like he is alone. As the door closes behind her, I finally take a proper look at Cole. He’s even more handsome now, with a rugged charm that wasn’t there in high school. He’s grown taller, standing at an imposing 6’2, and his broad shoulders and muscular frame suggest he’s been spending a lot of time at the gym. His once clean-shaven face now sports a well-groomed stubble that adds to his striking appearance. His green eyes, though filled with a hint of annoyance, still have that same intensity that used to make my heart race. Cole sighs, breaking the spell. “Can we hurry this up? I’m only here because it was suggested by her nanny that Arabella has been misbehaving and as her father, I should be here. So please, let’s get started.” He barely looks up from his phone. Ah, I see where his daughter is learning her manners from. “Alright, please take a seat.” I smile, but he doesn’t notice. He sits down, continuing to type on his phone. “Maybe you should have sent Mrs. Kinsley. She at least listens to me with undivided attention because she really cares about your daughter.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop myself. All the anger I’d felt for him over the years for teasing and mocking me just comes rushing in out of nowhere. My heart beats against my ribcage as he keeps his phone aside, finally looking up at me. His jaw clenches, and his green eyes turn dark with anger. For a moment, I feel like the same fifteen-year-old girl who was left locked in a classroom for two hours as a prank. Cole leans forward, his gaze piercing. “Ms. Taylor,” he says in a low, controlled voice, “I’m here because I care about my daughter, regardless of what you think. Now, can we proceed with discussing her?” Swallowing hard, I force myself to stay calm. Mrs. Black would kill me if I am rude to his highness. "Of course. Arabella is a bright and talented girl, but she seems to be struggling with some behavioral issues. She’s been acting out in class and having difficulty following instructions." He listens intently, his gaze piercing yet unreadable. Despite the professional setting, there's an underlying tension between us that I can't ignore, "What do you suggest we do?" He knew I hated him. "Consistency and positive reinforcement work wonders at this age. Perhaps spending more time with her or involving her in activities that require teamwork could help," I suggest, my voice steady despite the subtle electricity in the air as he maintains an eye contact. He nods slowly, his eyes still fixed on mine. "I’ll see what I can do. Is that all?" As he stands to leave, I can’t help but feel how a person who troubled me for years doesn’t recognize me anymore. Of course he doesn’t. The bullies are just having fun while giving the person they bully lifelong trauma. "Alright, I don’t think you understand. You need to spend time with your daughter. She feels alone and she is sad. She doesn’t have a mother and I am sure as painful as it might be for you, I hope you can understand what she is going through," I assert, the tension between us palpable. "Okay, what is your problem?" he asks, his voice a bit sharper, but his eyes betraying a flicker of intrigue. "I know how to raise my daughter. I took your advice, listened to you. That’s the end of it. Stop acting like you know me. I take care of my daughter and I do spend quality time with her." "I do know you. You are Cole Harrington. You and your little clique in high school tormented me for years. You locked me in empty classrooms, sabotaged my homework when I didn't comply with your demands, and destroyed my projects, which resulted in me getting my first F. One time, one of your friends poured soda over my head while you all laughed. Do you want me to recount more of the awful things you've done?" My voice trembles with suppressed emotion, my face flushed with anger as I confront him. Cole's expression shifts from confusion to realization, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he masks it with a defensive stance. His gaze meets mine, and for a moment, he feels bad but I knew he still didn’t recognize me. "What? I don’t recall doing this to you. I don’t even know you," he responds, confusion momentarily replacing his earlier demeanor. "Nicola Taylor," I say firmly, watching his confusion give way to recognition. "Or as you might remember me, Grizzly bear." "What happened to you? The braces and the—" he starts, struggling to find the right words. "The gal-stache or my weight?" I interject, a hint of defiance in my tone. I wasn’t skinny like a model now, but I wasn’t as heavy as I used to be in high school. "I’m sorry, you look very different. I didn’t recognize you," he admits, his gaze lingering on my face longer than necessary. "Alright, about high school, I am—" "I don’t want to talk about that. But I know you, and from this brief interaction, not much has really changed. Sure, now you don’t go around bullying people, but you still have that same superiority complex where no one except those in your status matters. As someone who has seen your worst side, take care of your daughter. She used to be a sweet girl, but now she is being disrespectful and misbehaving a lot. I’m sure something awful in your life led you to bully me, but don’t let your daughter end up like you. It took me two years of therapy to get over all the pain you and your little group put me through!" My voice rises with anger, unable to contain itself. "Alright, whatever I did was my doing. Don’t drag my daughter into this by projecting my behavior onto her. She barely has any memory of her mother, and that’s why she is acting out. I know my daughter and I know what’s going on with her," he responds, his tone sharpening as his own anger flares, pulling me out of my heated state. Our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. "Okay, you are right," I finally concede, refocusing on Arabella's well-being. "These are a few school events parents usually attend with their child. I am sure it would mean the world to her if her father attends it instead of her nanny. I think your daughter is a sweet but troubled girl and I just want to see her smile again." I force a smile, handing him the brochure. As he takes it, our fingers brush, sending a jolt of awareness through me. He looks at me, his expression softer but he looks defeated and tired. "Okay, thank you. Um, Ms…" he trails off, struggling to remember my name. "Ms. Taylor," I fill in, a small smile playing on my lips as I meet his gaze. I could hold onto my anger and be rude but that’s not going to lead me anywhere. "Right, Ms. Taylor," he murmurs, his voice slightly husky, before quickly looking away, embarrassed because I had just proven my point. He didn’t care enough about others. "Alright, I will see you around," he says, his tone a mixture of professionalism and guilt, “Thank you for your time.” My mom was right. Kill them with Kindness.Nicola Taylor"Let go of his hair, Arabella. No, don’t do that," I say urgently, finally freeing Tim's hair from Bella's grasp as I lift her up to calm her down. My assistant teacher rushes to Tim’s side to check on him.I carry Bella out of the classroom, her fits continuing in my arms. I sit down on a bench outside, placing her on my lap. Her face is flushed with anger, her gaze fixed angrily on the ground."Baby—" I begin, but she cuts me off abruptly."Punish me, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear more lectures!" she screams, startling me with the intensity of her outburst."I’m not going to punish you," I say gently, but Bella refuses to look up. "But I can tell you’re hurt and feeling bad, right?" I ask, trying to reach her.She nods angrily."So if you know how bad it feels when you’re hurt, why would you want someone else to feel that way? Tim is crying inside because you hurt him. He feels bad now too. Does that make you feel better?" I ask, stroking her hair gently.She shak
Nicola Taylor“Where are we going?” I asked, following him through his gigantic house. “You know it's already 11 PM. Arabella shouldn’t be up so late.”“She’s with Ms. Kinsley, who tucks her in bed and stays there till she falls asleep,” he replied. I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to ask why he didn’t do it himself. Who am I to judge a person’s parenting style?“Are we in your bedroom? This is highly inappropriate. I need to leave,” I said, but he just shut the door behind us.“Relax, I just need to talk to you,” he said, gesturing to the bed. I shook my head, my eyes falling on the pictures of his late wife. Her jewelry, clothes, all her belongings were still in the room. This man is heartbroken.“Alright,” I said, sitting on the bed. For some reason, I felt comfortable. I looked him in the eyes as he stood two feet away from me.“Marry me.”I choked on my spit, coughing as soon as I heard the words come out of his mouth. “Is this… (cough cough)… a joke?” I said as he patted my
Nicola TaylorAs I wrapped up my last class, I started packing up after the assistant teacher took the students out for drop-off. A knock on my classroom door made me look up to see James, one of my fellow teachers, standing there.“Oh, hello! What are you doing here?” I greeted him happily as he entered the room.“Wow, Nicola, you look nice. What's the occasion?” he asked, making me blush at the compliment.“Just felt like it,” I answered shyly, remembering how I stopped dressing up two years ago after my last and final breakup. I had dated a man for seven years, supporting him through medical school on my kindergarten teacher’s salary, only for him to leave me once he got placed.But even though I wasn’t going to marry Cole, I did feel the urge to get back out there. For the first time in years, I felt like dressing up and looking nice, and it did pay off. James noticed.I wore a long black bodycon dress with my winter boots, and I had done my makeup too. I let my hair down for the
Nicola TaylorI slipped into the white ballerina dress for the fifth time, questioning if it was too much. Simple yet undeniably sexy, it revealed just enough cleavage and thigh to captivate a man's attention. Despite my attempts to deny it, I knew deep down I was dressing to impress Cole. I couldn't help but feel attracted to him, a fact that frustrated me to no end.As I applied a touch of light lipstick, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Brown waves cascaded over my shoulders, my makeup was subtle yet enhancing, and the dress hugged my curves in all the right places. "Oh god, this is too much," I muttered to myself, contemplating whether to change yet again.Just then, the doorbell rang. I cursed under my breath. Heat rushed to my face as I headed to the door, hoping Cole would appreciate the effort and not think I was overdressed.My breath caught in my chest as he stood there, the pink and red flowers contrasting beautifully against his navy suit. I smiled nervously, cheeks flu
Nicola Taylor It had been a month since I last saw Cole. I was grateful he respected my wishes and didn’t keep pushing because, deep down, I knew I would have eventually said yes. Arabella had been wonderfully behaved but unusually quiet. Despite my attempts to engage her with games and conversation, her heart just didn’t seem in it. Tonight was my college reunion, an event I dreaded. College wasn't as bad as high school, but I had been voted "most likely to be single," and here I was, still single. The rough predictions had turned out to be surprisingly accurate. The worst thing was that my ex, Finn, was going to be there with his girlfriend I am guessing. But I had to go, I wanted to meet everyone, my teachers and my friends. I was curious as to what everyone is doing in their life. As I got ready, an absurd idea entered my head. Without a second thought, I picked up my phone and called the number I would have avoided if I'd paused to reconsider. “Hey, you said you wanted to ma
Nicola Taylor“How drunk are you?” Cole asks as I try to find a comfortable spot in his lap.“I have a very low tolerance for alcohol. So, I didn’t really drink a lot, but I am drunk,” I confess, playing with his tie before resting my feet up to get more comfortable. Cole’s eyes linger over my legs as he attempts to adjust my flowy dress to cover my thighs, although unsuccessfully.“Can I ask you something?” I poke his cheek, finally drawing his gaze from my legs to my face. “What is it like to have sex with you? In high school, I heard a lot of rumors. But I’m very curious.”His eyes darken, and I see an expression on his face that I can’t quite decipher. “We should get you home,” he says, attempting to lift me up bridal style.“Oh no. Did I cross a line? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just—” I start, feeling on the brink of tears, but Cole chuckles.“You didn’t offend me. I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to say things you’ll regret,” he replies, settling back ag
Nicola TaylorI grunted silently, praying for the almighty to end my suffering as the students' loud chattering echoed in my throbbing head. What was I thinking getting drunk on a work night? The hangover was so bad it felt like someone was hammering a nail into my brain.“Oh, hello, I thought this might help.” Steph appeared with a bottle of Advil in her hand, making me sigh in relief as the children continued playing during break time.“Oh my god, you are an angel. I really needed this, you’ve no idea.” I quickly took two pills, knowing I had to teach in fifteen minutes.“Well, your eyes are red, and you look very tired, so I could tell. What happened? You don’t usually drink,” she asked, grabbing a chair and sitting beside me.“I saw Finn. He was there with that girl. They’re still going strong,” I mumbled sarcastically, and she gave me a look of pity.“It’s not going to work out. Bad people always suffer,” she tried to comfort me, but I shook my head.“No, somehow I help a man bec
Nicola TaylorI snuggled into my bed, pressing the pillow against my ears to drown out the incessant ringing of the alarm. I was exhausted, mentally and physically drained from constantly thinking about Cole and the confusing mix of emotions our recent encounters had stirred up. How did I go from hating this guy who bullied me throughout high school to feeling sorry for him and getting tangled up in his life?With a groan, I sat up and reached for my phone. Without a second thought, I called Steph. “Hey, Nicola, what’s up? You need a ride?” she asked in her usual cheery voice. How on earth could she be so peppy in the morning?“No, I was wondering if you could cover for me. I think I’m coming down with something,” I lied, my voice still thick with sleep. I could hear the concern in her silence before she spoke.“Wow, first day off in years? Of course, I’ll cover for you. Take care, honey! It’s Friday anyway, enjoy the three days off. But you better be back on Monday,” she teased, maki