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I’m aching to kiss her, but this isn’t the time or the place.
I’m also desperate to ask her to have dinner with me. But how? I imagine everything is done by phone or online these days. Do people even go on dates like they used to?
I’m making myself sound – and feel – ancient, which I know isn’t the case, but the last time I did this was more than half a lifetime ago. I’m seriously out of practice, and can’t think how to form a sentence that includes the words ‘have’, ‘dinner’, ‘with’ and ‘me’… preferably in that order.
Before I can contemplate that, though, I’ve got a slightly more pressing problem that needs resolving, and I move just a little closer, noticing that her eyes seem to widen, although I’m disappointed when she takes a half step back, putting some space between us.
“I know this is gonna sound odd,” I say, refusing to be deterred. “But having already caused you bodily harm, established you live in Maple Street, introduced my son to you, and had a couple of conversations, I’ve realized I don’t even know your name.”
She smiles, tilting her head, which is too cute for words.
“You didn’t cause me any bodily harm… and my name is Miss Howell.”
I nod my head, moving closer again, and smiling when she doesn’t step back, but stares up into my eyes, like she can’t look away… or doesn’t want to, which is a nice idea.
“And is Miss Howell permitted to reveal her first name while she’s on the school premises?” I ask.
“I guess it can’t hurt,” she says, biting on her bottom lip, which is enough to test any man’s resolve. “It’s Zara.”
“That’s pretty,” I say, and she blushes, surprising me.
“Thank you.”
I have to clench my fists to stop myself from reaching out for her, and I take a breath, needing to prolong our conversation, even if I still haven’t worked out how to ask the burning question.
“How was your first day?” I ask instead.
“Okay, I think.”
“Are all your students still alive, with their limbs intact?”
She smiles. “They are.”
“In that case, you had a great day.”
She laughs, and my cock responds. I’m bone hard in an instant. No-one’s ever done that to me just with their laugh, and by no-one, I mean Sabrina. She’s the only woman I’ve ever been attracted to, so there’s no point in pretending there have been dozens of opportunities to test my reactions to laughs, or giggles, or blushes, or smiles… or anything else, for that matter.
Even so, I never responded to Sabrina like this. Not once. Not even at the beginning, when I thought she had it all, and that no-one on earth could ever compare to her.
I had a lot to learn back then… clearly.
Still, Sabrina’s in the past, and she’s best left there.
Relieved to know Zara’s name at last, I edge even closer to her, and hear her breath hitch in her throat. Does that mean anything? It’s been so long since I had that effect on anyone, I can’t remember now. And I’ve got more important things on my mind.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
The words pour out of my mouth in a torrent, and I wonder if any man has ever sounded less cool in his life. It seems not, because Zara frowns, clearly unimpressed, and then steps back, putting a chasm of space between us this time.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, her voice little more than a whisper, her eyes darting around, as though she’s worried someone might have overheard my suggestion.
“Ridiculous?” Okay, so I know I’m out of practice, but seriously? “It may have been a while since I’ve done this, but is that the normal response these days? Is that what young women usually say when a man asks them out?” My voice sounds loud and harsh, but I can’t help it. No matter how uncool that was, I don’t think I or my invitation deserved to be laughed at.
“I have no idea. But surely you can’t expect me to welcome the attentions of a married man,” she says in that same whisper, and I struggle not to smile.
“Attentions?” I thought I was the one who was behind the times, but now I’m starting to wonder.
“Yes, and stop making fun of me.”
