AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He snorted. “Like they know the difference.”
She sat up ramrod straight, Hulk-level anger radiating from her. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m only telling you how I feel.”
“And I’m telling you, you’re acting like an asshole.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He let out an audible breath. “I’m frustrated that we keep having the same conversation all the time. I love you and want you with me.”
“I’m frustrated too,” she said. Hunter knew all the buttons to push to make her feel bad, and after what happened with Chris, guilt weighed heavy on her heart, but she didn’t have it in her to play the patient and understanding girlfriend tonight. “I’m pretty beat. I think I’m going to go to bed.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay, night.” Bronte hung up and stalked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face before crawling into bed with the book she’d bought at the airport. It was a rather bland memoir of a female human rights activist. She got a few chapters in before falling asleep with the lights still on.
She dreamed about the beach. Lying on the warm sand with the water lapping at her feet while a man’s body hovered above her. His taut, muscular arms boxed her in as he caressed her jaw, throat, and collarbone with his lips. The air was thick with heat, their bare skin slick, sliding along each other in a tease of what was to come. She moved her hands to the man’s hair, pulling his mouth up to hers so she could finally see into his eyes.
It was Chris.
She woke with a start, her heart racing and skin tingling. It had been a few weeks since she’d seen Hunter, and even longer since she’d been satisfied by him. The sky was still dark outside her bedroom window as she reached over to shut off the light and pull the comforter higher up her shoulders. Under the covers, she found the aching spot between her legs with her fingers while her brain conjured up the image of Chris, picking up where her dream left off. Whether it was right or wrong, Chris made her feel good, and she wasn’t ready to forget it quite yet.
Bronte’s alarm sounded at six o’clock, and she blindly reached out to silence it. After a few minutes of hiding under the sheets, she stretched out her arms and legs, bringing some life into her limbs before slinking off into the bathroom. Her morning routine was efficient and never-changing. Brush teeth, shower, dress, makeup, hair, coffee, car.
Mrs. Soto, another special education teacher from down the hall, knocked on the doorframe before entering Bronte’s room. “Morning.”
“Hey, Rach. Brought a goodie?” She tipped her chin to the small brown bag Rachel held.
“It was buy one, get one,” she said, handing the bag to Bronte, who found a donut with orange icing and black sprinkles on top. “How was your trip?”
“Good,” Bronte said around a bite. “We mostly hung out at my friend’s house, but we went out to eat and had a spa day.”
Rachel took a seat in one of the kids’ desks. “That sounds nice.”
“Mm-hmm. I got a chocolate wrap.”
“A what?”
“Like a mud wrap, but chocolate.” Bronte licked icing from her finger. “It was the best and worst way to waste chocolate.”
“Oh yeah? Did you waste any of the chocolate with Hunter?” Rachel waggled her eyebrows twice, a lewd smile slanting across her face, but Bronte only wiped her hands of donut crumbs before pulling up a file on her computer to print. “What does that mean? You guys arguing again?”
Again. She huffed. It was all so stupid.
Rachel sucked air through her teeth. “How long have you been together again?”
Bronte did the mental math. “About eight years, on and off. You’d think he’d have learned by now I’m a homebody.” When Rachel offered a sympathetic smile, Bronte continued, “Did I ever tell you he was in a frat?”
At Rachel’s horrified face, Bronte laughed. “I know. He was the stereotypical college guy with the polo and sunglasses, but there was something about him. He was older, charismatic, smart. Everybody on campus loved him.” She blinked away the memories and looked at her friend with a shrug. “Back then, my choices seemed so obvious. But now, I’m not so sure.”
“You? Not sure?” Rachel pointed a long finger at Bronte. “Has the left side of your brain stopped working? Should I make a quick Excel spreadsheet for you?”
Bronte smiled despite herself. “No, I’m good.”
“Do you have an IEP today?” Rachel asked as Bronte grabbed the stack of papers from the printer.
She stapled them together. “Meeting’s at two.”
“Still coming to the gym tonight?”
