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“No. It doesn’t work that way,” I say sternly.
The door to my classroom opens as Jaden reaches for me. I gasp and step back out of his reach.
“Oh…” Candace holds the door as she glances between me and Jaden.
My heart’s racing too fast and I feel lightheaded. I force a warm smile and ask, “Did you forget something, Candace?”
“Um… No… Sorry, I didn’t…” She turns quickly and leaves the classroom.
“Jaden,” I snap, “That is why we can’t do this.” I point to the door. Glaring at him, I plead with him to stop.
His head falls to his chest, his feet shuffle slowly as he walks away from me. His shoulders slump deeply. He turns when he reaches the door.
“Blaire,” he whispers, then leaves my classroom.
I let out the breath I’d held and fall into my chair, pulling it close to my desk again. Folding my arms on it, I drop my head onto my arms as tears escape my eyes.
6
JADEN
“Fuck!” I heave my backpack against my car in the student parking lot of the university’s campus after my last class. I don’t know how I did it, but I made it through my first day of classes after this morning’s clusterfuck in Blaire’s classroom. How is it possible that my lover over the past two weeks is now my culinary instructor for the next two years? I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve been in her bed too many times to stop fucking her just because she’s my teacher. No. I’ll find a way to convince her to be with me. We’ll find a way to be together.
She’s perfect. I don’t want another woman. I want Blaire.
We were able to spend the last two weeks together because her ex-husband took their daughter on vacation before school went back in session.
Some nights we ordered dinner, then some nights she cooked for me. She’s an amazing cook. I made breakfast in bed some mornings after all night of insane fucking.
I didn’t ask what she taught when she told me she was a teacher. I assumed she taught at the local elementary school. It never dawned on me that she was a culinary instructor at the university. Talking wasn’t exactly the focus of our time together. But when we did, she spoke to me like we were the same age. Like we were equals on every level. She never brought up the huge age gap of almost twenty years we have between us. Blaire is the woman I want to be with. Smart, beautiful, and has her life together.
She fits me like a leather driving glove. Her body melds with mine every time we fuck. I love the feel of her delicate skin. Every inch of her is the softest, sweetest skin I’ve ever caressed. She’s my hot ass older woman lover, and I’m not giving her up.
Leaning against my car, I drag my hands over my head and take several deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Then I drive to my part time barback job at The Oasis. It pays what little bills I have, and I give my parents money for putting up with me while I go to school. I’ll take care of them once I open my restaurant in New York City, and I will do it. Nothing will stop me from making my dream come true. Maybe in two years, I can convince Blaire to come with me to New York.
Parking my car in the back of the restaurant, I make my way inside and begin my duties of setting everything up for the bartenders. I stack the many different sizes of glasses in order and restock the entire bar with all the booze. Checking the napkin holders, I make sure each one is filled. The small bowls used for popcorn and pretzels are stacked neatly beside the containers, filled with each snack.
Going to the kitchen, I check on the lemons, olives, limes, cherries, and oranges. The kitchen crew prepares them, and I fill the containers for the bartenders. This is the tedious work I need to do as a barback, so I know how to run my own restaurant and bar one day. I want my establishment to be the best one New York City has ever seen.
Living here in east central Florida my entire life, I want to see more, do more. While I love this part of Florida, I know there’s more for me in New York.
My parents both grew up here. We are all true Floridians. Dad works for a large cable company and Mom’s a nurse; she works in a private doctor’s office. Both are getting ready to retire. They had me later in life. Dad was almost forty-five and Mom was forty when she got pregnant with me. I’m lucky to be their son. They set up an education savings account for me when I was born and now my college is paid for. As an only child, I do my best to always be here for them and help around the house with anything my mom asks of me.
I wasn’t interested in sports growing up, although I did play little league baseball until I got hit in the face with a ball and my nose broke. After that, I found my love of cooking. I’d help Mom make dinner every night and when I got brave enough, I asked her if I could make her and Dad dinner by myself. It took about a month of asking her over and over, but she eventually gave in and let me.
I decided to make them their favorite meal: chicken parmesan, Caesar salad, and garlic bread. The evening I’d planned to make my parents’ dinner, I called on my best friend, Harry. His parents and mine were good friends. He had his parents invite mine out for a day of dolphin gazing on one of those short cruises.
Once they were gone, Harry came over and we went to the specialty store to buy everything I needed to make the meal perfect. While shopping, I changed my plans and bought enough to make dinner for all six of us.
Harry didn’t have a girlfriend, and I had just started dating Marty. We hung out every weekend. She was a lot of fun and enjoyed it when I cooked for her. She was as determined to become a lawyer as I was to own my own restaurant. We understood each other and probably why she was my girlfriend for two years until she moved away before our senior year of high school began. I didn’t want anything or anyone to distract me from my lofty goals, so I kept things casual when I dated. I never allowed myself to have feelings for anyone or get seriously involved after Marty.
Until now, with Blaire.
7
BLAIRE
Arriving at Rae’s house, I drive onto the driveway, and park my car. I check my face in the rearview mirror. My best friend waves at me from the front porch. I’m sure when she takes one look at me, she’s going to ask what’s wrong. I’ll keep my sunglasses on for as long as I can.
