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He returned with a bottle of flavored water, and I drank it down eagerly.
“Thank you.”
“Are you feeling okay to leave now?”
I nodded. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.
We walked out of the classroom, and I followed him out to the teacher’s parking lot. He unlocked the door of a Chevrolet Impala and opened it for me. I climbed inside. It had black leather interior and a comfy seat.
“Nice car,” I told him.
“Thanks. Have to treat yourself sometimes, right?”
“Sure.”
He started the engine, and I sat back in my seat, not knowing what to say now that we were outside of the classroom. For a minute I allowed myself the fantasy that we were a couple and he was taking me home from a date. It was times like this that I could have cursed my parents for living close by the school as we pulled up outside our townhouse in what seemed to have been the blink of an eye.
“Are you okay to get out, or do you want me to help you to the door and tell your mom that you were unwell?”
“Oh my God, no.” The words burst out of me before I could consider them. I sat back in the seat looking flushed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Newell, that sounded ungrateful. It’s just my mom would lecture me about not eating when half the time she gets the staff to serve steamed vegetables and fish for dinner because ‘we must fit into our clothes well’.” I turned to him. “I’m almost eighteen, Mr. Newell, and my mom needs to start realizing that soon. I hope for a life outside of her world. If you came to the door, she’d treat me like a child, and I’m not.”
He nodded, pausing for a moment. “My name is Parker.” He told me. “And I’m okay if you call me that in tutoring, but not anywhere else, okay?”
I stared at him, my mouth agape. “P-Parker.”
He undid the locks.
“Well, I hope you feel better soon, Candy. I’ll see you in English on Monday and then for your next tutorial after school Monday. But,” He looked at me sternly. “I’ll be asking if you ate and if you didn’t, I’ll send you straight home.”
I shook my head in agreement. Though he was right to lecture me, by giving me his first name one minute and scolding me the next he had managed to make me feel like a child again. It was a blunt reminder that he was my teacher and I was a student.
“Night, Mr. Newell,” I said, letting him know firmly that I was keeping things professional. Then I left the car and went across the sidewalk and up the steps of our townhouse without looking back.
I ate the dinner prepared for me. Sofia, one of the staff, informed me that my parents were out for dinner for the evening. I excused her to her room, saying I was fine for the night. When I’d eaten, I sat with my head in my hands and thought about my day. I knew I was a fool over Mr. Newell, but there was something about him, which felt beyond a student crush. When his hand had touched my shoulder, I’d felt a shiver throughout my body. I was sure we had a connection. He’d given me no indication of any attraction to me on his part though. I slammed my fist down on the table. It was like my crush three years ago on Justin Bieber. It must be my hormones or something. My mind felt frantic like I needed to calm myself down, to think sensibly. In frustration I ran up to my bedroom, my place of comfort and I threw myself down on my bed and picked up my novel.
Which turned out to be a big mistake.
The main female character of the book had almost been killed in a freak accident. She was unhurt apart from a scrape to her forehead, and after being checked out at the hospital, she’d returned home, where the main male character of the book, had vowed to look after her, feeling responsible. The book had been a slow burn, and now it was lit dynamite exploding across the pages. As I read on, I did what I always did when reading, imagined myself as the heroine. But this time the hero had a face too—Parker Newell’s.
The characters kissed and as they did I pictured Parker and me in the car, the same passion combusting between us like that in the book.
He grabbed my chin in his hands and tilted his face up to look at mine. “My god, you are so beautiful.”
My chin trembled under his touch.
“Are you cold? Why are you shivering?”
“I’m shivering because I want you so much.”
Somehow the seats magically lowered and there were no uncomfortable parts of the car in the way. We were just wrapped in each other’s arms, mouths open and tongues exploring. Our breath was audible and was causing the car windows to steam up. His fingers swiftly unbuttoned my blouse, and he slipped a hand inside my bra cupping my breast. My nipple pebbled under his touch.
“Is this okay? Tell me this is okay?”
“This is more than okay.”
I grabbed his other hand and slipped it under the edge of my skirt. He didn’t need any further encouragement. His hand trailed up my thigh, higher and higher, while his mouth continued to devour mine and his fingers pinched my nipple, making me cry out in desperation.
“Please. I need to feel you there.”
