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Chapter Nine
AJ
I juggle my satchel bag, my purse, and my travel coffee mug as I try to slip my key into the knob of my classroom. Inside, the air is cooler than the hallway, but has that stale I-just-sat-here-for-two-days smell. It reminds me that I haven’t bought any of those Glade Plugins yet, which helps keep the smell of teenage hormones and sweat from taking over my classroom. Even after PE, the girls aren’t so bad, but some of the boys reek of sweaty gym socks and deodorant-less adolescence.
Of course, thinking of the way the boys require extra deodorant after gym class reminds me of their teacher, who was the sole reason I tossed and turned half the night and woke up wet. He’d also be the star of the dirty movie my mind conjured up while I was showering and having to take care of that pesky little problem I seem to have woken up with. If I were a guy, I would have had serious morning wood.
And that just gets me thinking of Sawyer’s morning wood. Recalling how hard and thick it was pressed against my stomach, while his mouth devoured me, definitely didn’t help matters much this morning, and it appears to not be helping much now.
Fanning my suddenly flushed face, I turn on the lights and enter my room. Locking my purse in my desk drawer, I pull out my grade book and the papers I took home to work on this past weekend. With the celebration of my grandparents’ anniversary on Saturday, I ended up spending much of my Sunday afternoon sunning on my back porch and grading the papers. Well, until memories of Sawyer’s lips pressed against my forehead and the way his eyes lit up when I said yes to his date offer, crept back into my mind.
And those silly little reminiscences are what keeps my heart fluttering and my cheeks slightly pinked even now, two days later.
“Holy cheese and rice, did you see the way that man fills out those nylon basketball shorts? I think I had an orgasm in the teachers’ lounge,” Brandy coos as she waltzes into my classroom, our coworker Natalie Johnson hot on her heels.
“She practically groaned when he slid in beside her to put something in the fridge,” Natalie says, a wide grin on her pretty face.
“He smells yummy. Like drop-your-panties yummy. We could bottle it up, you know? I’d call it ‘Essence of Delicious PE Teacher’ and would make millions.”
I can’t help but snort at the truth in her statement. The man smells incredible, even when he was outside and in the sun half the day. Can you imagine what would happen to hormones everywhere when you add in sweat? Like after one of his baseball games or something? Panties everywhere would combust. It would be an epidemic, I’m sure.
I make a mental note to Google search his games.
“What happened there? You just whimpered,” Natalie asks, giving me a knowing smile.
“Nothing,” I squeak out over my suddenly parched throat. “How was your weekend?” I ask.
Natalie proceeds to tell me all about their boat trip up the coast, and how her husband, Stuart, caught some of his biggest fish while she read. Natalie and Stuart got married earlier in the year and are definitely still in that honeymoon phase. He often sends her bouquets of her favorite flowers or shows up and surprises her with lunch. Natalie was a year older than me in school, but I’ve known her most of my life. Her brother, Nick, is well-known, also, even though he was a few more years older than me in school. Everyone knows him as Dr. Adams, one of the dentists in town and Meghan’s boss.
“Oh, shoot, AJ, I brought that book you wanted to read. It’s in my classroom,” Natalie says.
Checking my watch, I reply, “We’ve got a few minutes before class starts. Why don’t we run down and get it?”
“I better get back to the front office. Principal Stewart will be wondering where the hell I am. Maybe he’ll even want to punish me,” says Brandy, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, before turning and practically skipping in the opposite direction.
I follow Natalie down to her classroom and retrieve the book. It’s a smutty romance novel about a bad boy prince, who must take over the throne after his father’s death. He leaves behind a trail of broken hearts until he runs into a maid, knocking her on her ass. It’s one of those forbidden, taboo novels that I can’t help but devour. Abby started me on them a few years back after one that she edited released, and I’ve been hooked on sexy romances ever since.
When I step back into my classroom, I instantly notice the change in my room. There’s a familiar scent in the air. Something masculine and woodsy, mixed with a bit of sweet. On my desk, I see a cup. Not just any cup, but a very tall coffee cup with the logo of my favorite corner coffee house on the front. My heart somersaults in my chest as I approach the gift, noting the Post-It attached to the top.
Good morning.
That was all it said, but I knew who it was from. A smile wide enough to back up traffic on the freeway sweeps across my face as I bring the cup to my lips. Warm, rich caramel sends my taste buds soaring, the aroma of rich caffeine perking my slow brain like those cheesy coffee commercials from my childhood.
A caramel latte.
And it’s wonderful.
Well played, Mr. Randall. Very well played.
* * *
Each morning throughout the week, I return to my classroom with my crappy cup of stale lounge coffee to find some sort of treat alongside my mouthwatering caramel latte. On Tuesday, it was an apple with a note that said For my favorite teacher. Wednesday, I discovered a homemade cinnamon roll, the cream cheese frosting still warm. The note read This smells almost as good as you. I practically swooned as I reached for the fork and took my first bite. On Thursday, I found a raspberry Danish. The butter crust was flaky and melted in my mouth as I took my first bite. Sweet, decadent, and mouthwatering. Just like you. My knees grew a little weak as his words stirred up every desire I had.
Now, as I head back to my classroom, gross cup of nasty coffee in hand, I can’t help but wonder what kind of surprise Sawyer has left today. I know I won’t be drinking this stuff, but it’s part of the song and dance we’ve been doing all week. I leave my room and he leaves a treat and yummy coffee on my desk for when I return.
Only this time, when I return to my classroom, there’s no coffee on my desk. No sweet treat. No note.
Nothing.
