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“I know you’re not and I’m very grateful for you agreeing to spend your extra time tutoring me. I hate that we have staff and I hate that they won’t call me Candy. I have to say it’s mainly my mom’s doing.” I realized I was talking too much. Mr. Newell didn’t give a crap about my home life.
“Sorry. Can we start again? Please, could you call me Candy? I’d prefer it.”
“Okay.” His lip twitched slightly, and I hoped we could move on now. “Well, for the duration of our tutoring, you can call me…Mr. Newell.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay,” I replied, finding some confidence from somewhere. “I think I’ll be able to manage that somehow.”
Within ten minutes we’d settled into a comfortable flow. Mr. Newell was as passionate about teaching the subject of English as I was learning about it and once he saw I was there to focus on getting as much extra understanding of film and literature as I could, his enthusiasm increased.
The lesson finished in what seemed to be record time. I could have screamed when he said we needed to wrap things up. I’d had the most amazing hour in a long time, spent with a great teacher, learning my favorite subject and for almost a moment there, but not quite completely, I’d forgotten about my crush.
“I’m happy you’re getting tutored, Candy. You have a gift, and any school would be fortunate to have you as an English teacher. That’s if you don’t make a fortune on your novel.”
“I’d have to write it first.”
“Why haven’t you? Why just notes in a book?” He folded his arms across his chest, and his biceps bulked up. I couldn’t help myself; I licked my lips. My mouth was dry again, and I’d not brought a drink in with me.
“I don’t know really. I guess it’s about committing to that first sentence. I’m scared of where the book will take me and well, what if it becomes a romance book? I like reading romance, but I think I’d be embarrassed if I wrote one and wouldn’t want anyone to read it.”
“You’re worrying too much.” Mr. Newell began to rise from his seat. “Why not start it and see where it goes. Lock it in a drawer, so you know that no one but yourself will have access to it. Write what comes from the heart.”
Following his cue, I rose to leave but as I did my head swam, and I felt dizzy. Grasping onto the table, I stood still for a moment while the room stopped spinning.
Mr. Newell was at the sid
e of me in a flash. “Candy. Are you okay?”
He had reached his hand out, and it rested on my shoulder. My skin shivered, and I trembled under his touch. I moved back and waved a hand in front of my face embarrassed. “Yeah, fine. I didn’t eat so much today. Didn’t have much of an appetite. I’ll just grab a candy bar from one of the vending machines in the cafeteria on the way out.”
“Hold on. I have an apple. Much better for you.” He said. “Sit back down while I get it.”
I once again took the seat while he went into his case for the apple. I watched as he rubbed the skin of it down his shirt. Was this supposed to make me less dizzy? I was about to pass out from sheer lust.
He passed me the apple, and I took a bite. Then he laughed.
“What?” I asked, wondering what moronic thing I’d done now.
“I’m just laughing at giving an apple to Miss. Appleton.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I sighed. “I’ve heard it my whole life. Candy apple. My parents suck. Who gives their child a name like that? At least I’ll be able to change it when I get married.”
He turned away back to his case and started to pack up his belongings.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Mr. Newell. I never thought. You probably have a family to get back to, and I’m holding you up.” I attempted to get up from my seat again.
He raised a hand at me. “No one to rush back for, so take your time and eat. I’ll go get you a drink and then I’ll take you home.”
“No. No way. That’s above and beyond and not necessary. I’ll call one of our drivers.”
He laughed. “Of course, you would have a driver.”
“I sound very spoiled don’t I?”
“It’s nothing I’m not used to. Anyway, you won’t call a driver because I’m not having a fainting student on my hands. I’ll drive you home.”
I nodded. “Well I live on East 67th Street, so it’s not far.”
“I’ll go and get you that drink.” He repeated and walked out of the room. I watched his retreating and admired his ass which was like a juicy peach encased in cotton. Oh to be his pants!
