Take a Chance on Me (8 page)

Fallon leaned back, propping her ever-present Doc Martens on the seat in front of her. “DWEM. Dead white European male. Face it, that’s all we ever study in English classes anyway.”

“Point taken,” Jessica countered, “and I’ll encourage you to focus on a writer from another culture when we get to the individual lit study later on this year. But Shakespeare is far more than a DWEM, as you so creatively put it. He’s
the
most well-known writer in the history of the English language. His plays are still performed all over the world today. He’s shaped our culture.”

Matt picked up the argument for the students. “But if we never plan to see a Shakespeare play, why bother to study it?”

“Hmmm.” Jessica stepped down from her stool and began walking from one end of the classroom to the other. “Anyone have an idea on that?”

Hands rose tentatively. She chose a student at random.

“Because we want to be well-rounded people.”

“Helps with trivia competitions. There’s always a Shakespeare question.”

“The school district says we have to.”

She smiled at this last comment. “True. But I’d also be willing to bet that you can find evidence of Shakespeare’s work all around you in popular culture. In fact, I will give extra credit to anyone who can find a link between Shakespeare’s work and a song, movie, TV show or book that is popular today. And I will bring in some examples of my own on Monday.”

An approving murmur ran around the classroom. Like all students, they were excited about the prospect of extra credit. Jessica raised her voice above the low rumble. “And you don’t have to worry about never seeing a Shakespeare play performed either, because that is what I’m going to direct for the spring show.”

“You’re not crying again, are you?”

Jessica’s eyes snapped open. Tom Cameron stood in the doorway of her classroom, squinting in her direction. “’Cause I can come back later.”

Jessica brushed some imaginary lint off the sleeve of her jacket. She threw him a withering glance. “No, I am not crying. Thank you so much for dredging up a painful memory.”

“Hey, just checking.” He flashed a lopsided grin that set her heart thumping. “I felt pretty stupid the other day barging in on you and didn’t want to repeat that mistake.”

“Look, can we just pretend that never happened?”

“We seem to be doing a lot of that lately,” Tom replied.

“It works for me.” Jessica picked a pen up, dropped it on the desk again and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here? Are you checking up on me? Don’t worry, I’m not planning to sneak out early.”

Tom looked baffled. “Checking up on…what, you think I’m the attendance patrol? I could care less what time you leave.”

“Couldn’t care less,” Jessica corrected absently.

“What?”

“Couldn’t care less. If you could care less, it would mean you cared at least a bit.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the grammar lesson, Miss English Teacher. I stand corrected.”

“Sorry.” Jessica blushed. “It’s a pet peeve of mine.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jessica began stuffing papers, file folders and scripts into her book bag at random. She worked quickly, staring down at the poor overloaded bag as if it held the eighth wonder of the world. For all she knew, it did—she’d just never be able to find it under all the junk she was adding.

Even with her head down, she knew Tom was staring at her, probably with that barely disguised impatience she’d seen flash across his face during the could/couldn’t debacle. She could feel her ears heating up with embarrassment. First, she accuses him of spying on her, then treats him to an impromptu lecture on proper English usage, and she still didn’t know why he was here.

Go away
, she thought fiercely, scowling into the gaping bag.
Please, please just go away
.

“Here.” Jessica jerked upright as a sheet of paper suddenly appeared under her nose. “You might want to add this before you exceed the paperwork limit on that sorry little bag.”

She frowned at the paper. “What’s this?”

Tom shrugged and sat down on the edge of a student desk. “Celeste asked me to bring it by. I don’t make it a habit of reading other people’s paperwork.”

“I never said you did.”

“No, but you
implied
—”

“I did not.”

“Would you just take the stupid thing?”

She sighed. A raw sort of tension seemed to have bloomed between them since last night. From the moment she stepped into the building this morning, she had felt tight as a bowstring, nerves twanging at the thought of seeing Tom Cameron again. Did sexual tension manifest itself in nasty comments?

Jessica took the paper from his outstretched hand, carefully avoiding any actual physical contact. She skimmed it quickly. She folded it and tucked it in an outside pocket of the book bag, separating it from the other materials.

“Insurance benefits information,” she said. “And sorry I snapped at you.”

He shrugged again, winding his way towards the door. “Tough day, huh?”

Jessica sighed and brushed the hair back from her forehead. “Not hideously, no. But I did manage to make my life so much more complicated than it already was.”

Tom stopped and sat down on the edge of a student desk. “And how did you do that?”

She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of a neighboring desk. “Oh, I just promised my first period class I would direct a Shakespeare play for the spring show.”

Tom whistled. “Nothing like picking an easy script to direct.”

She groaned, scrubbing at her eyes with her palms. “Tell me about it.” She gestured at the classroom. “For the first time I really felt like a teacher. They were listening, paying attention—some of them were even involved in the discussion. It was the kind of day I dreamed about when I decided to become a teacher. I got so caught up in the moment I ended up sticking my foot in my mouth all the way up to my ankle.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Tom crossed his arms and eyed her speculatively. “This could be a very good thing for you.”

Jessica turned, her mouth gaping open. “How in the world could this be a good thing? Only an idiot would choose a five-act theater classic for her first production.”

“Or a very confident person.”

She slid down into the desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. “Go on.”

Tom stood, pacing around the classroom as he talked. “Think about it. You’re only teaching here for the rest of the year.”

She glared at him. “Salt. Wound.”

“No, wait. I’m assuming your goal is to get a permanent contract.” Jessica nodded. “And everybody knows how hard that is, especially when you’re just starting out.”

“Tell me about it. I have friends who got their teaching certificates over two years ago, and they’re still subbing.”

“So what you need is something to put you out in front. Get your name out there. You need to be visible.”

“Right.”

“Well, what better way to prove you’re an asset to the school than tackling an important play? You pull this off, and they’ll put you at the top of the list when hiring starts.”

He leaned a hand on Jessica’s desk, a smug grin crinkling his handsome face.

Jessica leaned forward, covering his hand with her own. “You really think so? God, that would be so great.”

Her voice trailed off. She looked down at their joined hands and swallowed reflexively. She snatched her hand away, stood and walked briskly to the whiteboard.

Taking an eraser from the attached tray, she started cleaning off the markings from the day, keeping her eyes averted from Tom. “The big problem is making sure it’s a success.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

Jessica glanced up with a wry smile, then picked up a marker and wrote tomorrow’s date on the board.

Tom walked to the door and opened it. “Well, let me know if I can do anything to help.” He nodded briefly and was gone.

Jessica leaned her forehead on the board, listening intently to the sound of his footsteps fading away.

Tom picked up the pace as he rounded the corner, anxious to put some space between himself and Jessica’s classroom. Finally safe in his office, he closed the door and dropped into his chair. He held his hand out in front of him, flexing it slowly.

All she’d done was place her hand on his. A brief physical contact. Nothing more.

So why was his hand still—tingly, for want of a better word? And he didn’t even want to think about the tingles still echoing in other more personal parts of his body. He cursed under his breath and crossed his arms. He was sounding like some giddy teenager. And heaven knew his hormones were acting like they were back in high school.

The problem was, the two of them seemed to keep on touching each other—at the pizza place, in the theater, just now in her classroom—and he had this same reaction every single time. There was no reason such casual contacts should have such an effect on him.

And the non-casual contact…

Shit. That kiss yesterday still wouldn’t leave him alone. Just now, in her classroom, it was all he could do not to grab her and try for a repeat.

He brushed a hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled and tangled. Jessica Martin disturbed his orderly life, bumping up against his wall of professionalism and knocking it down bit by bit. Until she’d arrived on the scene he’d had no trouble keeping his distance from co-workers.

Now, without even realizing it, he was searching her out, looking for an excuse to interact with her. If he’d been smart, he would have stuffed the paperwork in her mailbox and avoided this situation today altogether. But no, he had to bring it to her door—and then he ended up encouraging her in this insane plan to direct a Shakespeare play.

The woman was a bit bent. And so was he for letting her get to him like this.

He’d been on his own for years now, and up until a few days ago he hadn’t questioned that status. He’d learned the hard way that the only person he could trust was himself. It was safer to keep people at arm’s length.

Unfortunately, it was getting harder and harder to keep Jessica Martin there.

“You’re an idiot.”

Jessica snorted and leaned back in the overstuffed chair. “Didn’t I just finish telling
you
that?”

She could hear Ana’s sigh clearly over the phone line. “Yes, but I figure you needed the confirmation.”

“No, I’m well aware of the fact.”

“And you’re going to go through with it.” Skepticism laced Ana’s voice. “It’s bad enough you’re the drama coach—”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean. You and theaters don’t exactly have the best track record.”

Jessica twisted the phone cord around her finger. “I know,” she muttered.

“So, like I said, that’s bad enough. But Shakespeare? Are you nuts?”

“Probably.”

“Tell me again why you won’t direct something else.”

“I gave my word.”

“You blurted the idea out in the middle of a class discussion. It’s not like you swore an oath.”

Jessica sipped at her rapidly cooling tea. “Still, I won’t go back on my word.”

“Whatever. I’ll be there in ten.”

Jessica held the phone, listening to the faint buzz of the broken connection. She should have known Ana would latch onto this like a Rottweiler on a—well, on anything.

She hoisted herself out of the chair, padded into the kitchen and switched the kettle back on. She took out another oversized mug and pulled down the basket of tea bags from above the refrigerator. Then she grabbed a box of chocolate cupcakes out of the freezer. This was going to be a long night.

The doorbell buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts. She flicked on the hall light as she walked to the front door. It had gotten dark in the hour since she’d arrived at home.

Jessica threw open the door to find Ana standing there, holding a bottle of wine and an economy-size bag of frosted animal crackers. She smiled as Ana stalked past her and charged towards the kitchen with her loot. Yes, it was definitely going to be a long night.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Jessica offered. Ana sat at the table and ripped open the bag of cookies. “I have water on for tea.”

“Maybe later,” Ana mumbled around a mouthful of animal crackers. “Wine first. I think we both need it.”

Jessica took down two wine glasses from the top shelf of her cupboard. She set them down as Ana opened the bottle. Holding out a glass, she sat in the chair opposite her best friend.

“Why?” Ana asked simply, a pained expression on her face. “Why drama?”

Jessica shrugged and pulled the animal crackers to her side of the table. “It came with the job. I didn’t have a choice. Believe me, I would’ve turned it down if I could.”

“Well, I guess if you want a permanent job it’s a bad idea to kick up too much of a fuss about it.”

“Exactly.”

“And they don’t know.”

“Are you kidding? The only person around here who knows is you.”

“Hmmm.” Ana poured wine for both of them and took a long sip. “Well, your secret is safe with me. I think you should tell them though. At least your principal. I mean, what if…”

Jessica cut her off. “It was years ago, Ana. I can deal with it.”

Ana’s dubious glance spoke volumes. Jessica stood and paced around the tiny kitchen. “Honestly, Ana, I can. I even went into the theater yesterday and survived.”

“And you didn’t
tell
me?” Ana stared at her. “Your first time in a theater since—you know—and you didn’t bother to mention it? I am hurt.”

“That’s not all.”

Ana narrowed her eyes. “Tell.”

“Uhm, Tom was there.” Jessica fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “In the theater.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The lights went out.”

Ana made a go-ahead motion with her hand.

“And I, uhm, kissed him.”

“Get out!”

Jessica slapped a hand over her eyes. “I know.”

“You kissed him?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Did he kiss you back?”

Jessica bit her lip.

“He did! Hot damn.” She leaned forward. “Was it any good?”