Hot For Teacher (40 page)

Now that I know Arleen will never be here before nine o’clock, I can use this place for what it has always been for me—well, what it had been to me before I found Arleen here a month ago.

I rake my hands through my hair and try to calm my heartbeat, but there’s so much building inside that I can’t bear to let it stay. The only thing I can think to do is scream.

Within thirty seconds I’ve screamed every combination of curse words imaginable. And damn, it feels good.

“You missed debate tonight.” The whisper comes from the corner, and I swing around to see Arleen standing near the broken wall.

My nostrils flare and I feel once again like the village idiot. Now, not only has she turned me down, but she is witness to my frustration about it.

“So?” I grab my backpack and begin my exit.
Fuck this. I’m done.

“The first thing you need to know is that Miss Shields paired us up for the debate tournament in Saint Louis in two weeks.” She speaks quickly, before I can leave.

I stop a few feet in front of her and flex my jaw. “Well, I’ll make sure I speak to Miss Shields about that. Don’t worry, you won’t have to see me.”

“Simon, wait. Please.”

I fling my backpack off my shoulder and toss it to the ground. “Why? What’s the point? You’ve made it clear how you feel, and I don’t intend on being someone who sticks around where he’s not wanted. Sticking around isn’t really my gig.” My voice is stern, my insinuation obvious. She had to know my reputation. I had always been a bang ‘em and leave ‘em sort of guy.

But with her I hadn’t wanted to be.

I was an idiot.

Her eyes squint shut. “The second thing you need to know--”

“Yes. I already know, Arleen. How about we avoid rehashing this? Believe me, I get it.”

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re pretty fucking stupid. So shut up and come here!”

I look at the space between us and realize that if I come any closer I’ll be in dangerous territory. “What do you want, Arleen?” I ask without moving.

She looks down to the ground and back up, a stream of tears running down her cheeks. I feel guilty for making her cry but I can’t move toward her. I just can’t. I’d already put too much on the line for her. I’m done ripping myself open for someone who doesn’t want me.

“I like you more than I should,” she begins. “The things I’ve heard, the things I know…” Her brow creases as she trails off. She’s struggling to find her words, and the space around us suddenly feels much smaller. I feel like she’s on the verge of some kind of realization—or perhaps it’s me who is.

“I’m sick of feeling like I have nobody!” she shouts, mimicking my frustration from minutes earlier. “I think about this constantly. You’re absolutely fucking perfect, and I have no idea if what you say is how you truly feel, or if it’s…” She trails off, not brave enough to finish the sentence. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be cast aside and unwanted? Of course you don’t! What could you possibly know about being unwanted? You spend half your life up girls’ skirts!” she spits out bitterly.

She obviously has only half the truth. I wish this wasn’t so confusing. This shouldn’t be so hard! We’re kids, for fuck’s sake. The hard stuff should be a good five to ten years down the road!

“What do you want from me, Arleen?” I ask, sounding tired and defeated.

She uncovers her face and stands with confidence. “I want you to kiss me, Simon.”

My head jerks up and I meet her eyes. Hers are intense and unwavering.

“What?” I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.

“Don’t make me say it again, Simon,” she says, her voice a plea.

I take a step toward her, and her arms wrap around herself. I don’t know what I feel. I can’t place it. I don’t know if I should kiss her, or if I’ll be sorry that I did. Will I regret it if I let this moment pass by, or will I wake up in the morning beating myself up for going there in the first place?

And I don’t know if I should take a minute to think this through, or if I should just do what I
want
to do.

Because every last part of me is telling me to go to her.

“Just please, whatever you do, don’t kiss me like you do all the others. I just need to feel like someone special. I couldn’t bear the thought of this being some kind of game—”

Before she finishes her sentence, my lips crash against hers.

In all the girls I’ve been with, I never knew what it felt like not to be the one holding all the cards. I was used to being the one to leave. I was never emotionally invested. I could get up and go without thinking twice.

But I know right now, at this very moment, that if she were to turn and walk away she could quite possibly ruin me.

I’m in deeper than I’ve ever been before. Yet the thought of turning around and leaving at this very moment eats me up from the inside.

Her lips are softer than I imagined, and her breath is even sweeter. It’s awkward at first because I’m so eager, but then I let myself take a breath and I slow my pace, soaking her in.

All of my frustration from minutes ago has vanished, and my insides feel solid again. And yet there’s still something strangely unnerving. Because the closer I allow myself to get to Arleen, the more the future I had planned with Miss Shields fades away.

She’s caressing my tongue with hers as she throws her arms behind my neck. I pull her closer until there is no longer any space between us.

“Simon, I’m so sorry.”

I don’t reply, but my lips confirm what I’m thinking:

There’s no need for an apology as long as you stay with me.

I let the swarm of butterflies dance in my stomach as we kiss. Butterflies I have never in all my eighteen years felt until this moment.

It was something I’d never imagined was possible for me—feeling close to someone. For two hours, Arleen and I kissed. We let our hands roam, but never allowed anything more. It wasn’t even needed. Which, again, is something I never thought I’d say.

It’s been three days – an entire weekend – and I haven’t seen her. I can’t say I blame her, though. It was frightening in a way. The night had been too intense, like a cocoon around us. It was overwhelming and stifled all common sense. Because the second we parted ways early the next morning, I’d already missed her.

Perhaps humans are born with a natural instinct to love and be loved, and it’s only nurture that keeps us from believing we’re worthy of it. For those who’ve been there before, the fear of having someone taken away feels like it burdens the heart more than it’s worth.

Once was enough.

Twice would be devastating.

If she’s feeling what I am right now, then I can understand why getting too close to me would be considered a risk.

Yet my emotion and logic are waging war against each other.

Her absence these last three days has given me some time to think through all the things I should’ve before now.

What am I doing?

Am I really just replacing one obsession with another?

And did Arleen really want
me
? Or did she just want to feel
someone
close to her? She had said, after all, that she just wanted to feel special. What if the
who
didn’t really matter?

But who was I to question her motives when mine could be construed as just as shady?

The weekend takes me through a myriad of anger.

At my parents.

At her parents.

At my future.

At her past.

At the countless girls who allowed me to use them.

And mostly I am angry at myself.

All of it swirls in my head and it feels like it’s all going to burst out of me. In four short weeks I’ve completely changed. The way I act. The way I think. The way I feel.

And I have the right to be mad!

I lived in a perfect little box where my every move was justified, every word was heard, and every thought had meaning. Now I’m questioning everything I am and everything I was.

I can’t do this.

I can’t keep living in a dreamland with Arleen at the ruins. I can’t forgo the cozy life I had before. I was in control. I was in demand.

Miss Shields was the only thing that kept my feet grounded. She was the only thing that gave me purpose. Without my obsession, I have nothing.

I’ll just have to speak to Miss Shields about Saint Louis. I’ll tell her that Arleen and I can’t be debate partners and that we shouldn’t spend time together.

Because that sounds super mature of me.

But I don’t see anything else to do. I need to think of something to get my world back on track.

***

“I don’t think I should be partnered with Arleen for the debate in St. Louis,” I say confidently, watching Miss Shields closely as she takes her eyes off her computer and focuses on me.

“Oh, really? Why is that?”

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” I state.

She chews the inside of her cheek and removes her glasses. “Fair?”

I shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to brag, but shouldn’t you pair up your most
gifted
students with others who are less competent?”

“No. I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “Because if we get into the final round, we’re going to need our two best debaters paired up.”

Shit.

“Well,” I stammer, “what if I told you that Arleen and I have professional differences?”

She snorts and sets her glasses on the desk.

Okay, so I guess I didn’t think the conversation would need to get this detailed.

“Professional differences?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “This doesn’t sound like you. What kind of professional differences could the two of you possibly have?”

Dammit. I can’t tell her it’s because Arleen has spectacularly rejected me. I’ll look like a total tool. I’m going to have to take a different route.

“It just seems to me that you’d be doing
your
job better if you spread the talent throughout the group. You know, instead of lumping the best all together.” My temples feel damp and I hope to God she’s buying this.

“Is there something you need to discuss with me, Simon?” She leans over her desk. Her new position gives me a clear shot of her cleavage and I barely notice.

I swallow. “No. It’s just--”

“It isn’t ‘just’ anything, Simon. You either have a problem with Arleen or you don’t.” She shifts in her chair slightly. “You can tell me anything, you know.” Rising from her seat, she runs her index finger over the desk as she walks around it. She positions herself between me and the desk and rests her ass against the surface. “Are you nervous about Saint Louis? Is that the problem?”

I can feel my pulse in my neck and I swear my jaw drops at her insinuating tone. I don’t think I’m imagining the underlying message. She’s not asking me if I’m nervous about the debate; she’s asking if I’m nervous about spending the night with
her.

“Should I be?” My voice cracks.

She smiles and crosses her ankles casually. Her arms are behind her now, her hands resting on the desk. “Maybe a little. I know I am,” she says, her voice heavy with subtext.

Arleen suddenly bombards my mind.

Images of her hair, her skin, and the stupid locket I still carry in my pocket are flooding over me all at once. I try to block it out by closing my eyes, but the images only become clearer. Her damn beautiful smile infiltrates my moment with Katie.

“I should go.”

“Simon—”

I’m reaching for the doorknob before she can finish her sentence. “See you tomorrow, Miss Shields.”

I shut the door and head straight for the bathroom. After locking myself in a stall, I lean back against the door and wipe the sweat from my brow.

“Dammit!”

I’m mad. I’m mad. I’m mad. I’m mad.
I recite it over and over to myself as I walk to debate. Arleen still hasn’t spoken to me, which is fine. It seems every time she opens her mouth I find something more to love about her. And I did
not
need that complication in my life.

Shit!

I did
not
just say love! I meant like. I meant like!

I groan.

With Miss Shields refusing to let me swap partners, it seems I’m stuck. I just need to stick to my original plan and not let Arleen affect me.

“Listen up, everyone!” Miss Shields begins as I take my seat in the library. “I just got the debate subject for Saint Louis. So I want everyone to break up into the pairs that were assigned to you last week and begin your research.” The thirty students in the library all have their attention focused on our coach, but my eyes are glued to the floor. I can feel Arleen stealing glances in my direction as Miss Shields continues, but I can’t hear any voice outside of the one in my own mind.

It’s not like I’m supposed to marry the girl. I’m eighteen years old! I’m supposed to go to college and drink and have sex and eat Ramen noodles and worry about tests and homework! I can’t be concerned about a girl who’s obviously done well enough taking care of herself for the past six years.

She hasn’t tried to contact me or visit the ruins in the past seventy-two hours. She probably doesn’t want anything to do with me! Our insanely sexy kissing session was a total fluke. Or worse, something she regrets.

Whatever, I’ll bet she has health issues and detachment issues and drug issues! Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. She probably has a shitload of drama that I don’t need to deal with. I simply don’t have room in my life for someone with that much baggage.

She’ll only weigh me down.

My pathetic attempt to convince myself I’m better off without Arleen fails, and I completely miss the debate topic announcement. I glance around at the commotion of everyone rising from their seats and splitting into pairs.

But it’s fine. I’m totally fine. Keeping an emotional distance from Arleen is the best thing for me. I almost made the mistake of becoming “invested” in her. I won’t make that mistake again. Whether or not I truly believe it is beside the point; I just need to stay strong and go back to life as I knew it.

I get to my feet and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I walk to Arleen, who is now tugging at her lip and looking at me through her lashes.

“If you’d prefer to do this solo, I’ll understand. But I already asked Ka...
Miss Shields
, and she refused. So if you’d rather work alone, you’ll have to tell her yourself.” I sit down across from her, slowly rummaging for a pen in my backpack, waiting for Arleen’s response. After I’ve removed my notebook and opened it—still without her reply—I look up and my eyes meet hers.

“Don’t be upset with me, please,” she whispers.

“Nope! Not upset at all. Just want to get this over with,” I say indifferently.

She swallows and I can see the remorse in her posture. “Do
you
want to work alone?” she asks.

“I don’t give a shit. Do what you want to do.”

She furrows her brow. “Why are you such a douche?”

I throw my hands up in frustration and grit my teeth. “How am
I
being a douche?
You’re
the one who hasn’t spoken to me since we spent the night together.
You’re
the one who didn’t try to contact
me
.
You’re
the one who didn’t give a shit it was
me
you were with as long as it was
someone!
” I realize I’m shouting by the time I get to the last sentence, and look around the room. Twenty-eight pairs of eyes are on me—along with Miss Shields’s.

And I realize I just sounded like a little bitch. Or worse, a jilted boyfriend.

So much for keeping my cool.

Miss Shields narrows her eyes at me and her tongue is poking into her cheek. She looks at Arleen, then back again to me, and I know she
knows
something is going on between us.

Fuck it. I don’t care who knows.

I crack my neck and give the room a tight smile as the whispers begin.

“May I speak to you outside for a minute?” I request quietly.

Arleen nods and falls in line behind me as I march to the front doors of the school.

“This isn’t going to happen,” I snarl once we’re outside.

She nods, not arguing, keeping her head down like I’m scolding her.

“You just had to do this now! You had to come into my life when everything was fine! I was absolutely perfect! And now you’ve gone and thrown a wrench into my entire existence!”

She continues to nod, refusing to look at me. Thank God she hasn’t started crying yet.

“Do you know how many hours I’ve wasted thinking about you? Do you have any idea how much I’ve worried about you? How much of a shit I give? And…” I pause, seeing her chin quiver at my tone. “…how badly it kills me right now to see how much you want to cry.” My shoulders relax and I want to touch her so badly it hurts.

She straightens her back, her jaw tightening. It pisses me off. Because I love that steely resolve of hers. I love how strong she really is even when she doesn’t think she is. I sort of love every damn thing about her.

Fuck! I meant like! I totally meant like!

“I don’t want you to be mad at me. I didn’t come to the ruins this weekend because Matthew got sick and I don’t trust the staff at the home to take care of him.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of Facebook or Twitter or the goddamned telephone?”

I don’t even want her to answer, because I’m running out of reasons to be mad at her. And I needed my anger. Because without it, I’d only be left with the love.

I’m not even going to bother with correcting myself this time. I know what I meant.

“You’re running out of reasons to be mad at me, aren’t you?” She smirks.

Fuck.

“Simon? Arleen?” The voice comes from behind me. Miss Shields is standing at the front doors, a strange look on her face.

“We’ll talk about this later, Arleen,” I say quietly and walk back into the school.

Back in the library, I sit back down at the table and stare at the wall, refusing to look at her when she takes her seat across from me. I think about all the things I want to be mad at her for. I think about Miss Shields and how long I’ve wanted her. I think about Arleen and how since she came into my life all the things I used to want now seem trivial and insignificant—Katie Shields included. And all the while, Arleen doesn’t speak a word. She merely sits across from me reading a damn book.

We sit silently until the research session is long over and we’re the only two left in the library. I continue to stare, but she still hasn’t said a word.

“Quit looking at me like that,” she says without looking up.

I tap my foot on the floor and my temper flares again. I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off.

“I’ve heard the big speech already, Simon. When you’re done convincing yourself of all the reasons you want to hate me, let me know. The only reason you’re mad right now is because you
care
about me. Plain and simple. And what kills you is that I’m not beautiful enough. I’m not easy enough. And I’m not stupid enough to fall for all the tricks you’ve used on
them
. Do you know what they say about you? Do you have any idea the stories I’ve heard?” She shakes her head. “You’re pissed because with me, you know you’re going to actually have to work at it. You’re pissed because you finally realize what it’s like to be in
their
shoes.” She stands, taking a breath, and begins filling her backpack with books.

Before I can address any of the things she’s said, she walks away, leaving me alone. I throw my books into my bag and follow her. The only thought I can seem to conjure is that there’s no way I can let her leave here tonight thinking she isn’t beautiful.

The sun is down now, but the parking lot lights are glowing. Her pace is so fast that I have to jog to reach her side. “Been planning to unload all that on me for a while?” I ask, out of breath.

“Leave me alone, Simon. I’m not planning to be another notch on your belt. So I guess we don’t have anything more to say to each other.”

I grab her shoulders, pulling her to a stop, and look into her eyes. The light from the lampposts makes the golden flecks in her eyes sparkle. You know, if I paid attention to that sort of pussy shit.

My thumb catches a strand of her hair, and as a few short seconds lapse, I realize I’m smoothing her hair between my thumb and her shoulder like an idiot.

I shake my head and grip her harder. “Arleen, I have no desire to fuck you!” My eyes shut as soon as the words come out.
Well, that certainly clarifies everything. I’m sure she’s going to walk away feeling really great about herself now.

She clenches her teeth and goes rigid beneath my hands. I can tell she wants to yell at me. Or cry. Or both.

“That’s not what I meant. Of course I want to. I mean…” I shake my head again, and with a frustrated groan, I add, “You make me stupid!”

“Simon. You really need to work on your compliments, because you suck at them.” She sniffs and cracks a smile.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Arleen. I’m confused.” I take a step closer to her and wipe a tear from her cheek. “What I know is that I haven’t felt this good in a while. I don’t even remember a time I felt this good. You make me feel…” I hesitate, and I can’t seem to find the right word. I know what I should say, but I search for the word I truly mean. “You make me feel like a kid again.”

A small smile lights up her face. “You
are
a kid, Simon. Just like me.”

“I know. But I haven’t felt like one for years.”

Her head dips down. “I know what you mean.” She grabs my hand and holds it in hers, her fingers leaving an electric trail behind as she soothes my knuckles.

My heart races, my spine tingles, and goose bumps break out over my body.

The girl standing in front of me is something precious—a gift—and I have no intention of taking advantage of her. My whole life I’ve thought I was different: a guy who had no emotion, no heart, and wasn’t capable of opening up to anyone. I’ve never felt that elusive ‘jolt’ I’ve heard about—when you’re about to kiss a girl for the first time and you just know it’s
right
. All my life I’ve wanted it, but never thought it was something I’d experience.

In this moment I know that if I don’t kiss her, I’ll be missing out on so much more than a random fuck. This kind of girl could change a guy.

Forever.

And even though the teenager inside of me wants to rip her clothes off and rub my dick all over those gorgeous tits, I know deep down that sex with Arleen isn’t something I want to rush into.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Can I tell you something?” she asks in a whisper.

“Anything.”

She pauses and worry creases her brow. “You scare me.”

“Why?” I ask, even though I think that I already know the answer.

She hesitates and scratches her head. “They’ve all warned me. All the girls on the debate team.”

I nod.
Yep.
I figured that was where she was going.

“They all say you’re going to use me. They say I’m ‘next.’ And I’ve been keeping you at a distance because of it. Your name is scribbled on bathroom stalls across this school. They’ve all said you can’t keep your dick in your pants and that you have no heart, no conscience—”

“Arleen,” I interrupt her, but I don’t know how to reassure her that she’s different. “It’s all true.” Guilt churns in my stomach. “I’m a prick. And I don’t know how I could even begin to convince you that with you I won’t be like that.” I swallow and lean into her. “I want to tell you that
this
is genuine. That for the first time in my life, this is real. But it’s all going to sound like some line or speech I’ve given to them all.”

A deep furrow pinches her brow. “Have there really been that many?” She looks mildly disgusted.

I contemplate her question. If I were thirty years old, no. But I’m not. I’m only eighteen.

“More than there should’ve been,” I admit, feeling ashamed for the first time.

She nods and takes a step back. “I should go.”

No. Wait. Come back.

Please.

They didn’t mean anything.

Oh my God, I’m such a dick.

Because they didn’t mean anything.

“Arleen!” I call as she walks to a car in the parking lot.

“I put my phone number in your backpack. Call me about scheduling time to rehearse for the Saint Louis debate,” she calls back, just before hopping in her car and driving away.

I’m left standing alone. In all of the regrets I’ve had—which weren’t many, until today—I know deep down that I’ll always regret this.