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I think she keeps on going after that—warning me about what I’m getting myself into—
but I don’t hear a bloody word. My brain has turned into a musical complete with dancing people twirling around light posts. She might be bestowing some real words of wisdom upon me, but all I hear is, Yes, go! Screw his brains out! You won’t be fired!
When we’re done, I see myself out of her office and get to work in my classroom straight away.
I’m extra patient with all the little kiddos, not even minding one bit when one of the boys wees on my shoe. See if I care! You can wee wherever you want! This day is so glorious nothing even matters!
I want to tell Logan about the news, of course, but then it doesn’t seem like something I should spout out over text. Besides, it’s a bit keen to just go right up to a guy and say he’s basically got free rein. Do with me what you will! I’m yours for the taking, big boy!
And not to mention, since he’s totally and completely out of my league as it is, I probably should feign some kind of cool-girl persona. Make him think I’ve got other lads lined up to fill his spot, that sort of thing. God, especially after he saw me all pukey on Sunday night. Blech. Not my best look.
Since I decide not to tell Logan straight away, I settle for shooting off a text to Yasmine and Kat.
They respond as I assumed they would.
Kat: ACE! Now you can bonk his brains out.She caps it off with a row of eggplant and peach emojis. Real classy.
Yasmine responds a little later and has lots of advice for me.
YASMINE: Don’t just throw yourself at him now that you’re allowed to date him. Make him work for it. Maybe go for a blow job first? Or just do a hand job? We can discuss later.YASMINE: Oh, and thank GOD you waxed last week.CANDACE: HA! Get over it! It’s just hair! And mine happens to be lovely, even down there.YASMINE: Please stop. I’m already planning to call round to find a shrink who can hypnotize me and help wipe my memory. Only way I’ll manage to get to sleep at night…After I get home from school, I sit down on the sofa, place my mobile on the coffee table, and stare at it. It was one thing to avoid calling Logan all day—when I was busy chasing after tots—but it’s another to stave off the urge now that I’m here…lonely…thinking of him and wishing he were here.
I reach out to pick it up but then stop myself, forcing my body back against the sofa cushions. I turn on the telly, flip through a few channels, decide every show is boring, and turn it back off. I look around the flat, wondering if I should clean it up a bit. Eh, not worth it. Kat will only wreck it again.
Then, my mobile rings.
It’s Logan.
How did he know?! Did I slip into a hypnotic state for a bit and accidentally call him? Did I text him?!
Or maybe he’s as anxious to hear from me as I am to hear from him?!
It rings twice. Then a third time, and I feel all kinds of nervous, fidgeting on the sofa like I’m a toddler in need of a bathroom break.
Finally, my hand shoots out and I answer it on a whim. The call connects and my breath gets caught in my chest as Logan speaks.
“Hey Candace.”
His voice sends goosebumps down my arms.
I smile. “Hi.”
“Did you talk to your boss?”
My smile widens. So he’s been anxious about the meeting too. He wants to know if I’m off limits. Why does that make me feel so special?
“Is that all you care about? I thought we could do some chitchat first. You can ask me how my day was,” I tease.
“How was your day?” he asks, tone perfunctory.
“Oh, not bad. Started out with some finger painting. Then outdoor play, and I got a bit of color on my cheeks because I forgot my sun hat. In the afternoon, I had to wash some wee off my shoes—”
“Candace.”
His voice sounds threatening, and I like it. I’ve never gone for the soft boys, the ones who let you walk all over them.
“Now I want to hear about your day,” I say, prolonging his agony. I like this. Taunting him is fun, and maybe I’ve got a little evil streak because I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.
“I can’t recall much of it. I’ve been distracted.”
Interesting.
Then he says, all commandingly, “Come over. We can talk about everything here.”
“That sounds awfully bossy of you,” I chide.
“Come over or I’ll come there, though I saw your room, and that bed…it’s not big enough.”
For what?! Jesus. Warn a girl.
