Hot For Teacher (30 page)

TO BE CONTINUED…

Unwritten History

By

Missy Johnson

&

Carly Grey

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

First Printing: October 2014

“Ms. Wilson, do I need to confiscate your phone again?”

Laughter fills the classroom as my face heats up. I was sure with the way it was positioned in my lap underneath the desk he’d have no way of seeing it. I was wrong.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my eyes on my desk.

“Yeah, Jill. Stop looking up porn in class. Save that for when you’re at home. My window is opposite hers. You should see the kink she looks at,” he mumbles, and by ‘mumbles’ I mean says it in the loudest possible voice so that every person in the room can hear. Everyone laughs again, and I sink a little bit lower in my seat.

That’s my neighbor Jamie, who, for whatever reason, takes every opportunity he can to make my life miserable. I have no idea why he hates me so much, and honestly I don’t really care. I’m over him and the rest of this damn place. I’m already counting down the days until we have to move again.

“All right, enough.” Mr. Anderson takes charge and gets the class back under control, just as the final bell rings. “Jill, can I see you, please?”

“See, I say the word porn and now Mr. A wants some alone time,” Jamie chuckles to his friends.

I cringe, wishing I could crawl into a hole and die. God, I hope Mr. A doesn’t believe Jamie and his bullshit stories—though that would be how things go: the only person in school who I actually
like
is Mr. A.

“Jamie, detention tomorrow afternoon for you. I’ll see you at four.”

“What the fuck?” Jamie curses, slamming a chair out of his way. He scowls at me as he walks out the door. Of course his detention is my fault. I can’t deny the sense of satisfaction coursing through my veins.

Slowly, I pack up my things and walk up to Mr. A’s desk. My heart is racing because I have no idea what he wants to talk to me about. I’m praying to god he doesn’t ask for my phone, because I don’t want anyone to see what I was looking at.

No, you perve, it isn’t porn. I’d almost rather it was, though.

“Jill,” he says, shaking his head. “Sometimes I wonder if you go out of your way to disrupt my class.”

My mouth drops open. Is he serious?

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” I protest. “All I was doing was checking if my mother was picking me up from school. I didn’t realize that was a capital offense.”

“You know I can’t bend the rules for you even though you’re my top student.” He winks at me. “But relax. I didn’t ask you to stay back to punish you. I just need to keep my ‘take no bullshit’ attitude for them.” He nods toward the door, a smirk on his face.

Wow. I’ve never heard the guy swear before.
It almost makes him seem normal.

In his defense, Mr. A is a pretty cool teacher for someone old enough to be my grandfather. As well as teaching Senior History, he is also the assistant principle, and has been for years. He is one of the very few teachers here who actually went here as a student. Now
that’s
dedication.

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “I shouldn’t have sworn.”

“I’m shocked to see that you’re human,” I tease.

He smiles, his kind eyes softening. He makes me wish I had grandparents. I mean, everyone has grandparents—mine just died before I got the chance to meet them. Does he have any grandchildren? A photo of his three daughters sits on his desk. All look to be in their late twenties. He probably does.

“Is your mother picking you up?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I nod, feeling bad about lying to him.

“Then you better get going. And say hi to your mom for me too.”

***

When I’m safely out of the building, I reach for my phone.

Me: Sorry, work. Apparently they actually expect me to do things around here ;)

Eli: How rude of them. Hope you told them where to go. So, can I call you tonight or not?

Me: Not yet. I’m enjoying how mysterious all of this is. It’s pretty exciting.

Eli: We’ve been chatting for nearly six months. Besides, if it’s excitement you’re after, you should see what I can do with my tongue
;)

I clap my hand over my mouth to smother my laugh. He is such a dirty flirt. He’s right—we
have
been chatting for months now, but I’m still not ready to make whatever it is we have more than what it is.

We met through an online dating site, when after way too much of my dad’s homemade whiskey—of which he has no idea I keep a bottle of stashed under my bed—I had the bright idea to set up a profile on a dating site.

I was sick of being the new girl, which goes hand in hand with being lonely.

With Dad’s job, we travel a lot, which means I’m never in one place long enough to develop friendships, let alone relationships. This school is the worst of them all. Everywhere else I’ve been able to fade into the background and do my thing, but Jamie and his minions have made it their mission to make my life hell.

And I have no fucking idea why.

Thanks to my drunken dating profile skills, Eli thinks I’m twenty-one, fresh out of college, working in an office with a passion for history. In reality, I’m seventeen—a whole eight years younger than he is—and I’m still in high school. At least the history part is true.

I was surprised at how much attention my profile received. I woke the next morning to find my inbox full of emails from guys whose ages ranged from twenty right up to sixty-seven. Most were the same; you sound hot, want to meet for some casual sex but one stood out.

Eli’s.

His initial message was only a few lines long, but he caught my attention right away.

How we’ve gone this long without my lies surfacing I have no idea. The only thing I’ve lied about is my age and career, but it doesn’t matter. Once he finds out I’ve been lying to him, I know our relationship will be over. I’m not ready for that to happen just yet because I really do like him. I look forward to his messages and emails. Thinking about him gets me through the day.

It’s like everything doesn’t suck quite so much with him in my life.

***

“I’m leaving for work, Jill,” Mom shouts up the stairs.

I mumble a response and wait for the click of the front door and the sound of her driving off before I kick off my shoes, grab my Mac, and lie down on my bed.

I fire up my laptop and glance out the window. From where I’m lying on my bed, I can see right into Jamie’s room. I stand up and walk over to the window, drawing the curtains. I’ve no idea what the hell I did to the guy. He barely knows me, but today was an easy day compared to some of the shit he puts me through.

I feel like I’m five again and he’s the boy in the playground hitting me because he has a crush on me. Surely guys have matured by their late teens though, right?

Or maybe not.

That’s part of what drew me to Eli. I never intended to start up a relationship of any kind with someone so much older than me, but we got hooked on a conversation about my profile photo—which was a rather inappropriate meme involving a gnome—and the conversation progressed from there.

My Mac beeps. I look down and see Eli has started a conversation with me.

Eli: Cat got your tongue after my tongue comment? Did that scare you off?

Me: No. It’s just I have things in my life that are more important than your talents.

Eli: No woman has ever said that to me. Like what?

I laugh, loving this guy’s cockiness.

Me: Like work. Housework. Cooking dinner.

Eli: Seriously? That’s what excites you? God, we need to get you laid ;)

Me: In your dreams.

Eli: It would help my dreams if I could hear your voice…

Me: Keep dreaming. Write me an email and maybe I’ll consider it. But it had better be good.

Eli: Challenge accepted.

Laughing, I reach into my backpack on the floor beside me and pull out my homework. I can’t concentrate on what’s in front of me, because every five minutes I’m checking my email. In the end I just give up. Tossing my laptop on the table beside my bed, I head downstairs to prepare something for dinner. Considering the last three nights has been cereal, I figure I’d better actually eat something.

Twenty minutes later, I’m trudging back up the stairs with a bowl of mac and cheese and a can of soda. Probably less nutritious than the cereal, but oh well, I tried.

I set myself up on the bed, arranging my laptop in front of me, browsing the net while I eat. When a ‘new email’ notification pops up, I almost coat myself in hot cheese sauce hitting the icon.

From: Eli

Subject: Email in exchange for an actual conversation.

If you read further than this first line, you’re accepting my payment of one phone call.

I hesitate. Should I? On one hand, I’m terrified of sounding like an idiot. A young idiot. What if he picks up in my voice that I’m only seventeen? On the other hand, I am dying to hear his voice. I imagine it to be deep and sexy. I jump as my phone sounds with a new text. It’s him.

Eli: Come on, Jill. You are going to have to talk to me eventually, right?

I wince, but I know he’s right: either I end this or I agree to talk to him. It’s that simple. I like the guy—a lot—and the thought of not speaking to him anymore? Not something I want to even consider.

Sighing, I continue the email, ignoring the pounding of my heart in my chest.

Wow. You’re actually reading this. And it only took six months, that’s how smooth I am. I need to make this good I guess, so I’m going to tell you my most embarrassing sexual experience with the hope that you’ll be laughing too hard to be nervous when I call you.

I cannot believe I’m sharing this with you, but here goes…

When I was a teenager, my girlfriend at the time decided to give me an early birthday present-my first blow job. I was staying at her house, and everyone else had long gone to bed so things didn’t progress past the kitchen. I was leaning against the counter and she was on her knees…you get the picture. Things were going great until I opened my eyes and realized I was staring at her father. I fucking froze. As in, I couldn’t move, even to let her know what was happening. We stood there, eyeballing each other for a good thirty seconds before he tapped her on the shoulder and told me it was time to leave. Funnily enough, I wasn’t allowed to stay over any more…

I’m sure that was much more embarrassing for her though, but still. A very Awkward moment in the life of Eli.

He’s right. I’m laughing so hard I don’t even flinch when I pick up my phone and reply to his message.

Me: 555-076-9987

My phone rings almost immediately. I take a deep breath and answer.

“That really happened?” I giggle. I’m almost ready to pass out, I’m so fucking nervous.

“Unfortunately, yes. I couldn’t look at the guy for years afterward. The worse thing was he was a friend of my Dad’s so we saw them all the time.”

“Did your dad ever find out?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Probably,” he chuckles. “I can’t believe you actually gave me your number. I’ve been trying to get it for the last six months. I was beginning to think you might be a middle-aged dude who lives with his mother and owns forty cats.” His voice is gravelly and sexy.

My heart is pounding as I slide further down the bed, a smile on my face. “Yeah, well I’m certainly all female, no cats, and my number is the only thing you’re getting from me for a while, okay?” I grumble and he laughs.

“You say that now…but honestly, I love our chats, Jill. Talking to you just makes things easier. I feel I can learn more about you. Besides,” he adds, “your voice is fucking sexy.”

I giggle and clap my hand over my mouth. Sexy is not something I’ve been called before. Awkward, sure, but not sexy.

“Thanks. You don’t sound too bad yourself.” I cringe, because I sound like an immature schoolgirl. Part of me wants to hang up and call him again so we can start over.

So I do.

I wait a minute and then press redial on the last number in my phone.

“What happened?” he asks, confused.

“I hung up,” I say seriously. “I was sounding like a starstruck fuckwit, so I wanted a do-over.”

He begins to laugh. “A do-over? You can’t just decide to have a do-over. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” I argue.

“Because you’ve already made that first impression,” he chuckles. “Hanging up on me doesn’t erase that. Besides, is this really going that much better?”

Fuck. He’s right.

“Hey, Eli!” I say brightly. “It’s great to finally put a voice to the texts. How are you doing?” I say in my smoothest voice.

“Oh my god, Jill. You’re insane.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well, you knew that already. So, what are you up to? It’s a Friday night and you’re on the phone to some chick you’ve never met?”

“Good point. Honestly, I’m packing. My father is sick, so I’m moving down to help him out.”

“Wow,” I mumble. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, life sucks sometimes but we just have to deal.” He pauses for a moment. “So the interesting thing is, I’ll be moving to Denver. For a few months, anyway.”