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Nothing else is said as both of us are lost in our own thoughts. I have to wonder if maybe he's feeling the same way I am right now. Confused. A little hopeful, maybe. Or resigned to the fact that neither of us are really in control while we play this dangerous game.
All I know is, this doesn't feel even a little fake.
Her body relaxes against me. I keep my eyes trained on the fan, watching as the blades turn, blanketing our bodies with cooler air. Inside, though, I'm on fire. Not because I just came hard--though there's no doubt in my mind that I just came harder than I have ever before. No, I'm on fire because of the tiny little woman who hasn't once in almost a month done what I thought she would.
When I thought she would become clingy and start showing up around Dirty, she went silent and avoided me for three weeks. When I thought she would play games and act coy in her attraction to me, she gave me her awkward honesty. When I thought she would be a meek partner in getting my ex off my back, she fought back against her and for me. And when I thought my past would push her away, not wanting to be controlled, it only made her say things that made me question everything I thought about having a relationship and the job that I love.
She's thrown me for a loop, for sure, and I'm not sure what to do about it.
Do I want her? Fuck, yeah.
Do I think I could walk away tomorrow? Fuck, no.
Do I think she could handle my life? Well, if that isn't the million-dollar question ... and I'm honestly not sure how to answer it. Not anymore.
And even more confusing of all, I'm actually hoping she's the one in the end to throw all my carefully voiced warnings back in my face.
She stirs, her leg coming up over mine and rubbing the heat of her sex against my thigh, and I wait while she settles. When she finally stops fidgeting in her sleep and I hear my name leave her lips on a breath of air, something shifts inside me, and for the first time in a long damn while, I want something more.
All I know is, this doesn't feel even a little fake.
* * *
1 Even better than before
2 Even better
I PULL MY CAR INTO my spot, smiling and feeling as if I could take on the world. When was the last time I woke up on a Monday--when it wasn't summer break--and felt excitement for the day ahead of me? Don't get me wrong; I love how rewarding my job is. It gives me satisfaction beyond words, but something is completely different today and it has everything to do with my time with Shane.
When he dropped me off at my apartment two weeks ago, the Sunday afternoon after our first 'date,' neither of us seemed happy about parting ways. He walked me to my door, made sure I was safely inside, and then kissed me goodbye. We made plans for the next day, and ever since, it feels like we're slowly becoming inseparable. One thing's for sure--none of the dates we've had since seem to be for anyone else's benefit than our own.
And I've been riding the high every day since.
"Ms. Clark," I hear the second I walk into the faculty entrance. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word."
"Of course, Mrs. Worthington," I answer, keeping the smile on my face despite the fact that I know our headmaster has never liked me and this can't be good.
It's early. I'm always early for work. Being late is something I go out of my way to avoid. There aren't any students here, thankfully. I keep my back straight, head forward, and follow the clicking of my headmaster's short heels. Her gray hair is pulled back into a bun low on her head, but it looks so painful, I subconsciously reach up and push my loose hair behind one of my ears.
Her secretary, Mrs. Brown, gives me a sympathetic smile, and I know, I just know, that this isn't going to end well.
"Close the door, Ms. Clark."
My hand shakes with a nervous tremor as I reach out and shut the heavy wood door, enclosing us in silence. When I turn, I see that Mrs. Worthington has already sat down at her desk with her hands folded in front of her. She keeps her narrowed eyes trained on me while I move away from the door and place my schoolbag next to one of the visitor's chairs and sit. My black slacks dig into my stomach, making me hyper aware that I might puke at any moment.
"Do you know why I asked you in here?"
It's on the tip of my tongue to correct her and point out that there wasn't any asking about it, but instead, I mutely shake my head.
"As I'm sure you're aware, your contract with us is very specific about"--she pauses, one brow arching and lips pursing before continuing--"the way you conduct yourself outside school hours. We have a certain standard that we at Rosefield will uphold at all costs. Do you know how I spent my valuable time the past week, Ms. Clark?"
I shake my head, my palms sweating and my heart pounding. "No, ma'am," I answer honestly, not sure what she's getting at but feeling the dread of what's to follow all the same.
"No, I imagine you wouldn't," she bluntly continues. "I'm going to be very honest with you, if you don't mind?" She pauses for me to respond but clearly didn't actually want the words from me because she continues before I can even get a word out. "I didn't want to hire you. The board, however, thought we needed some fresh, young, and quite frankly, inexperienced minds. I felt differently, but I had hoped you would prove me wrong, and that, perhaps, you could actually give us something here at Rosefield that we hadn't had. It seems, however, that my concerns about your level of professionalism were justified."
"I don't understand," I fret, confusion mixing with my nerves.
"Allow me, then. Did you have an incident two weekends ago? One where there was a very public altercation that ended up with the police being called?"
My stomach drops. Never, not in a million years, did I imagine that I would end up in this situation. I don't get in trouble. Not once in my life have I been in a situation like this, and it's completely throwing me for a loop. I don't know what to say or how to convince a woman who has never liked me that I am not the villain here. That what happened isn't what she thinks.
"I can see by your reaction that you're starting to understand why you're here right now."
"Mrs. Worthington, please, it's not what you think," I plead, shifting my body so that my bottom is almost off the chair. I can hear the desperation in my voice, but if she can, she isn't showing any outward signs of it. "I was defending myself."
She clicks her tongue, scorn and something that looks a lot like disgust clear in her study of me. "Tell me, do you think that it's acceptable for you to be engaging in public brawls, food fights, and public displays of affection?"
"It wasn't like that," I attempt again, trying to get her to understand it wasn't some filthy altercation like she's making it out to be. "My ... my boyfriend and I were just trying to enjoy our dinner, and well, the woman who's been causing him some issues happened to be there and caused a scene. Shane, my boyfriend, defused the situation as quickly as possible."
Something that sounds somewhat like a laugh comes from Mrs. Worthington, but her scowl only deepens. "There is zero tolerance for that kind of behavior. Do you know how it makes Rosefield look when a member of our faculty is involved in such ... distasteful behavior?"
"Please, Mrs. Worthington, you have to understand, the only thing I'm guilty of is protecting myself."
She shakes her head, moves from her stiff position, and reaches down. I see her reach into a drawer and pull out some paperwork. When she places it in front of me, the dread that had been climbing and clawing up my spine explodes, and it takes everything inside me to keep from breaking down.
"Do you recognize this?"
"Yes, ma'am," I wheeze.
"And you understand what this is now, just as you did when you signed your contract three years ago?"
I swallow a thick lump of emotion and nod, incapable of anything more.
"It's unfortunate that the board had to learn that I was, in fact, correct in my reasoning for not wanting to bring such a young and inexperienced teacher on because you lack the moral compass of someone more mature, Ms. Clark. However, they'
ve decided to ignore my recommendation of letting you go in favor of a probationary period. Until I feel that it can be lifted, you'll have a board member present during all your classes. Make no mistake; we will continue to investigate the complaint filed against you by another member of staff, and if we find we're unsatisfied with the reality of the events in question, you will be let go without appeal. Do I make myself clear?"
Mutely, I stare at her. There is so much I want to say. Conflicting words trying to push their way past my lips. I want so badly to tell her to take her pretentious position and stick it up her butt, but I don't. Reality is, she's got the upper hand because she's caught me unaware. The fact that my first inclination is to quit should tell me everything, though. Aside from the fact that I love the work that I do here, I hate the people I work with. I come here for the kids. As much as I love them, right now, at this moment, I'm not sure it's enough.
"I understand, Mrs. Worthington. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you and the school." The words taste wrong coming out, but until I get my head on straight, I know it's what needs to be said.
"You'll need to sign this letter stating that I've explained why your behavior has put us in such an unpleasant position and that you understand the parameters of your probationary period as I've explained them."
