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“I’m your nephew’s teacher, for one. How appropriate would it be for me to entertain you while teaching him?” Chase looks back at his occupied truck and then returns to me. “Second, it’s disrespectful.” Taking a calming breath, I step away from him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job I need to do out here before I return to mine inside.”
Once more, I turn around and flee from him.
I’m such a coward.
I don’t know why I keep the torture up. I should just tell him who I am since he can’t figure it out on his own. It would end these encounters between us, and he would know why I’m not interested in him.
Liar.
But I can’t bring myself to do it. As much as I should, I don’t have the courage to actually go through with it.
Maybe after I get used to seeing him.
Going with the insane plan that couldn’t possibly be executed properly, I help get all the students off and going, ignoring the truck as he roars away this time.
Good, he can be angry.
Angry means his interest will die, and he’ll leave me alone sooner rather than later. I just need to keep this up, and he’ll leave me alone for good.
I don’t hang around much after my job is done, especially since I don’t want to have another Cera encounter.
~~
Open, you fucker.
I strain to get the new bottle of wine—seeing as I drank my other one dry last night—opened with a broken corkscrew while balancing my phone between my shoulder and ear, listening to my mom talking.
When wine can’t do a good enough job putting me at ease, calling my mom is the next best thing aside from having Lorelei come over and we find some misery to drown in together. It should be the other way around, but this is how we Reece women work. Wine first, bitching to the other one after.
“I’ve heard he was back,” she muses.
“Patience?” I grunt out.
“Patience,” Mom confirms.
My mom, being my only parent, was more of a best friend to me growing up. She disciplined me and raised me like any child with two parents would, but I love my different, special relationship with her. This means she knows everything I went through with Chase my sophomore year and how closed off I became after he was long gone.
“I think I’m handling it well enough,” I admit, nearly giving up on my wine.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums.
“What do you think?”
“Cheese dicks!” I nearly drop the entire bottle of cheap wine that refuses to open for my needy self at her expletive.
“What?”
“Shit balls, motherfucking, assholes!” She continues.
“I didn’t think my situation wasthatbad, Mom,” I quip.
“No, no,” she grumbles angrily. “I burned myself.”
“On?” I prompt.
“I’m making cheesesticks. I meant to say cheesesticks.”
My jerky laughter is just the extra movement I need to get the bottle open. Setting it down, I let it breathe for a minute or two while I try to figure out my situation.
