Hot For Teacher (60 page)

My parents made me come with them today. I sort of threw a fit because I didn’t want to leave Dallas and fly back to Alabama. But when the parents say go, I have to go. I’m only fourteen after all.

I haven’t been back to Tuscaloosa in four years. Usually my grandparents come to visit us in Dallas, because my dad is too busy being a quarterback for the Cowboys most of the time.

We’re all here because they’re honoring my dad at his old high school today. Raising his jersey up in the rafters of the newly built gym. I think my parents had a hand in that.

Anyway, I’m sitting next to my grandparents scoping out all the hot girls as they walk by. Who knew Alabama had such hotties?

“Junior, are you paying attention?” my grandmother says. I roll my eyes at her. My dad tells me his mother means well, but can certainly be pushy.

“Yes, I’m watching.” I didn’t tell her that I’m really watching tits and asses. She would likely slap me.

“See that banner above the scoreboard on the far wall?” she asks. My eyes follow where my grandmother’s finger is pointing and I nod.

“That one has your mother’s name on it. She was All-state cheerleader.” My grandmother seems proud of my mom though I know they’ve had a rough go of it over the years. My mom says loving my grandmother is a constant walk in forgiveness. Whatever the hell that means?

“Cool,” I say and catch the sight of a blonde a few feet away.

I swear she winks at me, which is nothing new. Girls seem to dig me. I think it’s the mixed color of my skin. Makes me look like I have a permanent tan. Though it’s different being neither fully black nor white.

They finally introduce my dad and say a bunch of mumbo jumbo. People clap and I catch my mom crying.

Now that has my attention. I don’t like to see my mom upset. I may give her a hard time, but she’s really all right, and by far the coolest mom of any of my friend’s.

I glance over at my grandmother to see her crying too. What the fuck? Everyone is losing it today.

“Hey,” I say while nudging her arm. “What’s the matter?”

My grandmother takes my hand and holds it tight. I have to admit this entire display freaks me out.

“I’m crying because of what you father just said.” I stare at her because I have no clue what she’s talking about. “You missed it didn’t you?” Again I nod my head.

“He said this school gave him the greatest gift of his life. Your mother.”

Dear Reader

Thanks for reading Love Lessons. I hope you enjoyed it. If you would like to see the missing years between Daniel and Staci, send me a message. I might consider expanding this novella into a full-length novel.

If you would like to check out more of my books, visit my
website
for store links. I have a completed series, Touch of Tantra, and with the exception of the novella, the series is in the man’s point of view.

I’m brewing up more books in my cauldron, so please sign up for my
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Enjoy the rest of the anthology,

Liv

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Other Books by LIV MORRIS

THE COMPLETED TOUCH OF TANTRA SERIES

Adam’s Apple (Book 1)

Temptation (Book 1.5)

Adam’s Fall (Book 2)

Love in the City (The Complete Collection Boxed Set)

Extra Credit

By

Nicole Blanchard

Copyright © 2014 by Nicole Blanchard

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Nicole Blanchard Books

www.authornicoleblanchard.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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Synopsis

If nothing else, the expensive education at St. Christopher's College should’ve thoroughly instilled upon me the virtues of making the right choice.

But much like my namesake, all it takes for my resolution to be swayed are the smooth words of a charming devil. 

Theodore Drake, my new professor, may as well have come with a warning label. Even though I’m well aware that a relationship could mean ruin for us both, there's nothing more alluring than the temptation to take just one more risk.

“Don’t worry so much, Evie.” Jessica pauses her application of mascara to look back at me. “I’m sure the auditions will be great. In the meantime, just try to relax and enjoy the party.”

“Easy for you to say, your entire career doesn’t depend on one stupid audition.”

“You’re being melodramatic. Besides, that’s tomorrow, this is tonight. Carpe die hard and all that shit.”

“Diem, carpe diem.”

“Hell yes! Now change into that outfit I picked out pronto, otherwise we’re going to be late.”

I grumble my objections but acquiesce. I’m in need of some serious self-medication, otherwise I run the risk of spontaneously combusting. Jessica is a great roommate, but her tolerance for mess is minimal at best. A smoking pile of me will ruin both our nights.

I dress in skinny jeans and a slinky top, careful not to muss the makeup she’s already applied with a careful hand. Having a cosmetology student as a friend comes in handy both on and off the stage. Pushy though she is, Jessica knows exactly how to curl my otherwise unruly blonde hair until it falls into soft waves down my back. The magic wands and pots she guards like a mama bear are made of fairy dust or something because they turn my otherwise nondescript blue eyes and slightly off-center mouth into art. It’s a little heavy for my taste, but Jessica is of the go-big-or-go-home mindset.

The party is being held at her boyfriend Stefan’s house. His father is a major contributor to Saint Christopher’s and practically the sole supporter of the theatre department. All of the theatre members and wannabe Broadway stars will be there. Some of them good friends, some rivals. Most of the later will be rooting for me to fail and it is important that I put on my brave face rather than give them the upper hand.

By the time we arrive, the small grass yard in front of the house is packed with cars. A variety of people mill on the front lawn, hands gripping the requisite red cups, faces already ruddy, laughter loud and jubilant. Music pumps from the house and I can feel the bass vibrate in my chest.

“Come on.” Jessica grabs my wrist, pulling me through the crowd of familiar faces and into the house.

Stefan’s father is some kind of entrepreneur—the type that can afford to endow the university with a new theatre and equipment ten times over. As such Stefan’s house is opulent, spacious and packed wall to wall with coeds. It’s overly warm inside, filled with squirming bodies and gyrating hips. I make a beeline for the kitchen where I know there will be plenty of refreshments to take off the nervous edge.

I grab the tall, mostly full bottle of vodka, mix it with something fruity and just start chugging. Two drinks later and the buzz has me feeling pleasantly relaxed. I rejoin Jessica and Stefan on the back porch where a group of our friends are circled around the edge of his pool. Drink number three accompanies me to the empty seat by the water.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Stefan ignores Jessica’s pleading look with a hand to her face and then screams when she bites his fingers. “What it’s just a question?”

“Can’t you tell she’s drowning her sorrows? Let the girl drink in peace!”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to drink alone?”

Jessica points at everyone. “She’s not alone. We’re right here.”

“Then there is no reason for her to drown her sorrows when we’re here to cheer her up.” Stefan pecks Jessica on the lips. “So what’s up buttercup? Tell daddy where it hurts.”

I lift my glass to him. “I’m trying to asphyxiate my nerves with vodka.”

“Is it working?”

Most assuredly. “I’ll let you know.”

The chatter around the group—which is always at a constant buzz unless we’re in the middle of practice—suddenly stills. I look up from contemplating my drink and my breath catches in my throat.

For a moment I think I’m hallucinating because what in the actual fuck is former mega-Broadway star Theodore Drake doing at a dinky college party?

The last thing I heard was that he’d quit the stage to settle down with his one true love to raise two point five kids and learn how to golf. Not that I’m judging, but I just can’t image giving up my dreams for love. Not when he’d worked so hard to get where he was.

And hot damn the tabloids definitely don’t need to photoshop anything on him. He’s ridiculously good looking in real life. He has the striking facial features, the lean, lightly muscled physique. Prior to his exit from the stage, he’d been the toast of New York. Tabloids haunted him for each juicy tidbit. Critics adored him. Women everywhere wanted to have his babies.

As he makes his way from the deck to the pool it is like the crowd parts for him. He immediately hones in on Stefan, mouth curving into a smile. Stefan finally sees him and jumps to his feet. They do the bro hug thing and all the while I’m staring like I’ve completely lost my mind.

Which is entirely plausible because the alternative is not. There’s no way I’m sitting at a party with uber star Theodore Drake.

Stefan begins introducing him to the members in our circle and I use the moment to toss back the rest of my drink. The alcohol burns on its way down, making me cough.

When I recover I look up to see him staring straight at me. I groan inwardly. Just my luck I meet an influential actor red-faced and choking on cheap vodka. And that the only unoccupied seat would be right next to me.

“You alright?”

Having taken my fair share of leading roles, I’m more than used to having all eyes on me. In fact, when I’m on stage and forget to be self-conscious I revel in the feeling. But being in the direct gaze of Theodore Drake is like being naked starring as his leading lady instead of under him breathless.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I manage to tear myself away from his inquisitive eyes and find Jessica staring at me with her eyebrows in the vicinity of her perfectly coiffed hairline. I raise my glass to her and then get the ever-loving hell out of there.

Embarrassment is not a part of tonight’s package and I want a full refund. Made payable from the wonderful vodka makers of—I peer closely at the bottle, but am unable to make out the words.

Drink number four becomes my shield as I make my way back outside. I want to turn tail and run in the other direction, but come on. It isn’t every day you get to meet a practically famous person.

“She’s auditioning for the City Theatre Group’s internship program tomorrow.”

I glare at Jessica as I take my seat.

“That so?”

Rather than turn and be scorched by his altogether too assessing gaze, I nod in his general vicinity.

“Are you sure drinking yourself into a stupor is a wise choice the night before an audition?”

My cheeks redden, from anger or embarrassment or a combination of both.

“C’mon
Professor
Drake. Give the girl a break.”

I’msorrysaywhat?