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The corner of my mouth ticks. “Is that an invitation?”
“No,” she blurts out quickly, curling on her side. “Just an idea,” she adds through her yawn.
Unable to contain my smile, I unbuckle my pants once more, kick off my shoes, and remove my jeans. When I’m down to my boxers, I climb into her bed and reach for her. She flips over, throwing an arm over my bare chest and a leg over my thigh. I keep my hands to myself, even though I long to slide my hands across her naked skin.
I close my eyes and exhale, fully relaxing enough to fall asleep. Reaching over, I run my finger across her shoulder and feel her shudder beneath my touch. “Happy birthday, Hallie,” I mutter.
“Night, Logan.” She wiggles against me, getting closer, and then promptly falls asleep.
And me? With her tucked into my side once more, I sleep like a fucking baby until she wakes me up two hours later sucking my hard dick in her mouth.
Chapter Eleven
Hallie
I’ve intentionally avoided Logan for the last three weeks. Why? Because, honestly, I have no clue what to say to him.
The sex was outstanding. The kind that reaches into your bones and tattoos the memories into the marrow of your being. I’ve thought about it way too much to be considered normal. Well, at least in the evenings. And at night. And when I wake up in the morning.
I’m good throughout the day, though, since I stepped back into the classroom the first of the week. The students don’t actually start until the upcoming Monday, but I’ve hosted two backpack nights, so my next group of preschoolers can come in, meet me, and see their classroom. It’s always an incredibly nerve-racking, yet exciting time for the students—and me—and I’ve learned bringing the kids in with their parents helps ease the magnitude of the transition they’re about to make.
Today, I’m finalizing my lesson plans for the first day of school and making sure my space is ready to go. I’ll have a morning three-year-old class and an afternoon four-and-five-year-old class, with a small period of time to myself in between. Most of the time, I just stay here, in the small school attached to the Lutheran church. I love this little place and the support I receive from the community, which is why I spend so much of my summer making sure this preschool is the best it could possibly be for the upcoming school year.
My stomach rolls, reminding me I haven’t eaten lunch yet. It’s just after noon, and I’m at a standstill. Everything is ready to go for Monday, and really, it has been ready all week, so there’s no reason for me to hang around on this Friday afternoon just for the sake of preparation. There’s nothing more I can do.
I head over to the cabinet where I keep my purse and feel my stomach flop. That queasy feeling settles in, and I start to sweat. Forgoing my purse, I move quickly to the bathroom down the hallway. I barely make it inside the stall before dropping to my knees and throwing up. Everything I had for breakfast this morning reappears, leaving me exhausted and disgusted at the same time.
What a terrible time to get the flu!
Once I’ve finished and am certain nothing else is coming up, I flush the toilet and exit the stall. I wash my hands and wet a paper towel, using it on my face and neck. I don’t feel fevered, just flushed from exertion. I bend down and rinse my mouth out before exiting the bathroom and returning to the cabinet in my classroom. I find the new package of toothbrushes and pull one out, along with the travel packet of toothpaste, and return to the bathroom.
When my teeth are clean and my stomach calms again, I finally grab my purse and prepare to leave. My stomach growls, and even though a big, juicy cheeseburger sounds like heaven right now, there’s no way I’d risk eating something that heavy. Instead, I’ll stop at the diner and see if they have any soup available, despite being mid-August.
I turn off the lights, lock the door, and set the alarm. Finally, I’m out at my Cherokee and ready to head out. It’s hot, but thankfully, not sweltering heat. I crank up the air-conditioning and back out of my parking spot before driving toward the main street through town.
Since it’s during the noon hour, the downtown square is packed. I contemplate just going home and finding something there, but the prospect of some of Frannie’s homemade chicken and noodle or creamy broccoli soup has my stomach begging loudly. Fortunately, I get lucky and find a car pulling out of their parking spot right in front of the diner. I throw on my turn signal and parallel park into the spot, super excited to have secured it. With purse in hand, I head inside to place my order.
Stepping inside is almost too much on my senses. The seating area is loud and packed with patrons, no doubt thanks to Saul’s meatloaf special on the menu. I wave and say hello to those I know but keep my feet moving toward the counter. As I approach, I see Ellie stepping out of the kitchen, carrying a big tray of food. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” she says as she walks by to deliver the mouth-watering food to the customers.
My stomach growls once more, a little louder than I would have liked, catching the attention of a man sitting at the counter beside me. I divert my attention to the specials board, grateful to see chicken and rice soup listed for today.
“Sorry ’bout that, Hal. What can I get ya? It might be a few minutes before a table opens up,” Ellie says as she approaches.
“No, I’m not staying. My stomach is a little queasy, so I thought I’d grab some soup and head home.”
“You pregnant? That seems to be going around,” she states with a laugh.
My eyes widen. “What? I’m not pregnant.” Then something else hits me. “Are you?” I whisper.
She shakes her head, a flash of sadness in her eyes. “Not yet, but we’re definitely trying.”
“It’ll happen soon, I know it,” I reassure her.
“Yeah, when it’s time, it’s time, right? Do you want crackers with your soup?”
“Yes, please. If you have a few extra packets, toss those in. I’ll pay for them,” I insist, digging my wallet out of my purse. “Oh, and a Sprite too, please.”
She nods and types into the cash register.“Six fifty-seven.”
