Hot For Teacher (59 page)

I pull myself up from Daniel’s lap with only one thought in my sexed out head.
We are beautiful together.

There’s no guilt or shame hovering over us when I look into his coal-colored eyes, yet I can’t help worrying about where we go from here.

I’m his teacher for fucks’ sake. He has college and likely a career in professional football down the road. His life is just beginning even if I’m only a couple of years older than him.

My future is entangled with my past since I’ve returned back to my old high school to teach. Each day I walk down the same concrete pathway I did as a fourteen-year-old with braces. Now I’m a teacher who’s crossed the forbidden line with one of her students.

I run my fingers through the tight waves of his hair. “Daniel.” My voice is a whisper. “We should…” I can’t find the words to finish.

“Don’t,” he says. “You’re all I think about. It’s why I’m failing this class.”

His confession shocks me, and at the same time gives me the missing piece to the puzzle I’ve been searching for.

“I had no idea,” I try to pull myself off his lap, but his arms tighten their hold on me.

“Let me ask you a question, Ms...” He trails off, and I know the reason. The formal sounding Ms. Tillman would be ridiculous to use after what we’ve just experienced together.

“Call me Staci,” I say. He smiles at hearing my name.

“Staci.” He speaks my name slowly. Letting every phonetic sound roll over his tongue. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“What a loaded question?” My laugh mixes with anxious nerves and comes out a little too high-pitched.

“Gotcha,” he says with a wink, and I exhale the long breath I am holding. “But
I
do believe in lust.”

He runs his hands up my sides to lace them behind my neck. He pulls me forward and presses his lips to my ear. “And I lust you.”

My eyes widen when I realize sweet, quiet Daniel might be a hot dirty talker. He’s a man; yes I’m calling him a man now, whose buried passion is being freed.

I bend to kiss his swollen lips when I hear the clicking sounds of heels from somewhere down the hallway outside my classroom. Usually the noise would go undetected, but the hallways are abandoned right now and the sound bounces off the walls.

We both still and glance at the clock against the back wall. “How could an hour have gone by?” I say.

“I bet it’s my mother,” he says in a rush and we react quickly to the possibility. I wonder how he’s endured his parent’s paranoia as their captive son.

I scurry over to what had been my side of the table, and straighten my clothes. I try to soothe down the locks of my hair, hoping I don’t look as disheveled as I feel. 

“She probably wants to meet you. I’ve never been allowed to be alone with a girl.”  He looks away from me.

“Oh shit, “ I say before a quick knock on the wooden door echoes throughout the room.

I feel my back straight as I watch the doorknob turn. Daniel faces me across the desk with his back to the door, but he can see what’s happening in my eyes.

“Good afternoon,” a woman says as she steps into the room.

“Good afternoon,” I respond in kind while rising out of my chair and walking toward her. “We were just finishing up.”

Daniel may have inherited the color of his mother’s skin and eyes. But the coldness I see in her stare chills me. There is no warmth or depth, just judgment and scrutiny.

“So
you’re
Ms. Tillman?” Mrs. Johnson says with her head cocked to the side. The disdain in her question can’t be missed either.

“Yes, I’m Daniel’s teacher.” I fiddle with my hands and stuff them inside my pant pockets. The very hands that ran through her son’s hair, and held onto him as I came only minutes ago.

“I see.” She taps her chin in thought.

A quick scan over me from head to toe and she moves past me toward Daniel. I panic when I realize he didn’t have a chance to clean up. I’m praying there isn’t a telltale sign exposing us.

I see he’s thrown on his jacket and zipped it up, so we are in the clear. But I still can’t keep from shaking. This woman is no fool and Daniel is not a deceiver.

“Hi mother,” Daniel says.

“Pack up your things, Daniel.” She points to the papers still scattered on the table. “We are finished here.”

What does she mean by that? And her tone sounds ominous. Daniel and I glance at each other. I can tell he’s nervous too.

“Okay,” he says. He starts putting a couple papers into his backpack, but most of the work on the table belongs to me.

“I’ll get the rest,” I say. His mother pivots on her respectable heels and faces me. The blood in my veins turns cold. She appears ready for a fight.

“I think we need to chat.” From her position with her hands on her hips, I don’t believe our chat will be friendly.

“Okay,” I say, realizing I sound just like Daniel. A scolded child.

“Daniel, wait for me outside the door.”

Her orders must concern Daniel because I see his eyes widening as he glances at me, and then back to his mother. I want to tell him not to worry, but I can’t because she scares the shit out of me.

“How old are you Ms. Tillman?” she asks while circling around in front of me. I feel caged in now.

“Twenty-two.” Her brows rise as I try to stand taller than my five-feet-two frame. “I was young for my class.”

“Convenient,” she quips, walking to the desk and taking the seat I used. I feel a power play beginning.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” I say to a frowning Daniel as he walks by with his shoulders slumped. “Good luck in the game tomorrow.” I add as he reaches the door.

“Close it behind you,” Mrs. Johnson says in a commanding order.

I’m still facing the door with my back to her. I can’t find the strength to turnaround.

“Join me, Ms. Tillman.” I spin around and watch her pat the table in front of her.

“Sure.” I smile, hoping to appear like this sort of meeting with her happens everyday.

I take my place at the table across from her and put all the loose papers into a pile. I lay my hands on my lap under the table when I finish. I don’t want her to see them shaking.

“Let me make this quick.” She leans over the table and I lean back in my chair. “I don’t want you teaching my son. He was way too excited last night about coming here today to be tutored by you.”

“Not teach him?” I ask.

“That’s right. I know my son. And I know women like you. You’re not like us. You’re lethal to my son. I’ve seen your kind at work all my life.”

I don’t have an answer or comeback to defend myself. Nothing I say will make a difference at this point with a woman like her. My words will only dig me deeper into the imaginary hole she’s placed me. One marked, dangerous.

“What did you say to her, mother?” I ask her as soon as we start heading down the hallway outside of the classroom. I tried to hear the conversation through the door, but I only caught a troubling laugh from my mother.

“Nothing that concerns you,” she says as if the matter is closed.

“It does concern me.” I stop where I am in the hallway to get her full attention. I want her looking me in the face.

She turns to me after stopping a couple of steps ahead. “No it doesn’t. As of now, she’ll no longer be teaching you. During and especially not after school.”

Seemingly finished she heads back down the hall. But I don’t move. I stay planted.

She senses that I’m not following her and comes back to me with fury in her eyes. A day ago I would’ve backed down and apologized but not today.

“See. That blond woman has made you forget who you are and what happened to your brother. Remember what his girlfriend did to him?”

“Of course I do,” I yell. “I remember it every Goddamn day.” It is the first time we’ve spoken about my brother like this. “But you’ve forgotten something?”

“Oh please, enlighten me Daniel.” She spits.

“I’m not my fucking brother. He was sick mom. Mentally sick. That’s why he kidnapped that girl and killed himself.”

At first she’s immobile, completely frozen in her spot. I think she finally may understand, and then a hard slap across my face tells me otherwise.

“Oh my god.” She throws her hands into the air. “I had this same conversation with your brother about his girl. He’s dead now. DEAD.” My mother buries her face in her hands and begins to sob. It’s the first time since my brother’s funeral that I’ve seen her cry. Her tears sting me more than the imprint of her hand on my cheek.

“Excuse me.” A voice down the hall interrupts our scene. It’s Mr. Dorsey, the school’s principal.

I walk over to the wall of lockers and lean against them. There’s going to be a showdown. I can sense it.

My mother wipes her cheeks, straightens her hair, and prepares to face my principal. “Good evening, Mr. Dorsey.”

He’s walking toward us while glancing between my mother and me. His face is filled with concern and questions.

“Is everything okay here?” The words linger in the air waiting for someone to grab them and I know who that someone will be.

“No. I want to log a formal complaint against Daniel’s so called teacher, Ms. Tillman.” I stare down at my shoes and curl my hands into fists. I want to pound them into the lockers. “And I don’t want Daniel stepping foot inside her class again.”

“What happened?” Mr. Dorsey looks toward the door of the classroom. “Did something go wrong with the tutoring session? Maybe I should get Ms. Tillman to join us?”

Oh, fuck no! I can’t let them drag Staci into this. I will protect her with my dying breath. What we just experienced will not become some clichéd student/teacher romance.

“Listen, mom.” I soften my approach. I don’t see another way out of it at this point. “I’ll do whatever you want here. Transfer me to another class.”

“Before we get to a transfer, I’d like to speak to your mother about her complaint. What exactly are your issues, Mrs. Johnson?” I can’t tell from Dr. Dorsey’s face and tone if he’s buying my mother’s overzealous display.

“I don’t feel comfortable with her around my son. It’s a personal issue.” I want to add that it’s likely a racial one too, but I hold my tongue.

Mr. Dorsey turns to me. “Have you had trouble with Ms. Tillman?” I hear my mother huff, realizing her complaints are being ignored.

“Not at all. I’ve enjoyed her class.” I bite my lip to hide a smirk.

“Hold on.” Mr. Dorsey holds up a finger and heads toward Staci’s door. I wipe the sweat from my palms.

“You will not spend another minute inside
that
classroom.” I stood still and waited for Mr. Dorsey’s return.

He reappears by himself and my mother looks confused. “She isn’t in the classroom. But I did find this on her desk.” He takes a piece of paper from an envelope. “It appears to be her letter of resignation.”

I face the wall of lockers and this time my fists make contact.

The fall leaves crunch beneath my feet as I climb the hill overlooking the football field. I spread the small blanket on the ground and sit down, folding my legs into my chest. The chill in the air makes me shiver. The hole in my heart leaves me aching.

I told myself I shouldn’t come to watch the homecoming game today, but I had to see Daniel one more time. Besides he’ll never know, because I’m outside the fence. Faraway from the crowds and his parents.

I’m a true outsider now. Mr. Dorsey called me last night after I fled the school. He found my letter and asked if I wanted to reconsider. I told him that I need a fresh start and that my return to my old school was a big mistake. When he wished me the best, there wasn’t a shred of anger in his voice. I am thankful he was understanding with the hasty decision.

I haven’t told a soul I’ve quit, not even my best friend. I’ll never be able to tell anyone about Daniel. Keeping it a secret makes it seem more like a dream. A beautiful dream, about a beautiful boy. Maybe it’s better this way.

The cheerleaders are warming up the crowd as the announcers call out the names of each player. My stomach flutters as I wait for them to say Daniel’s name. He’s the only remaining player and the entire stadium is silent as he stands at the end of the field.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Scholar Athlete, All-State, and All-American. Number fifteen, Daniel Johnson.”

The crowds roar as Daniel runs across the field to join his teammates. One by one they hit hands as he passes them. When he gets to the last player, he looks up at the hill I’m crouched down on. He stops and raises his hand in my direction. I can’t believe he can see me sitting here.

I fight the tears but it’s no use, I’m a weeping mess as I wave back at him. He blows me a quick kiss before turning away and meeting his coach at the sideline. I collapse into myself and let the rivers flow.

I know I made the right decision to leave the school and let Daniel go on with his life. He needs to find his own future. Not one for his parents or a teacher who can’t let go of her past, but my heart is tearing in two.

“Daniel has a big announcement. One that I think all you hometown fans will be happy to hear, “ his coach says into a microphone.

I peek up and wipe my nose with my sleeve. I have no clue what Daniel is about to share with everyone. Usually athletes choose their colleges at the end of their sports season.

Daniel takes the microphone into his hands. The strong hands that only yesterday held me tight. I close my eyes at the memory.

“I wanted to celebrate homecoming by letting everyone know I’m staying in town and attending the University of Alabama next year. I have a special friend that’s keeping me here.” Shouts break out everywhere. “Go Crimson Tide!”

The stands come alive at the news, but I can’t move. It’s as if I’ve been turned to stone. I can only stare at the field in disbelief. I shake my head as I see him give his helmet to his coach and run across the field toward me.

He stops at the fence and grabs hold of the metal.  I look down the hill at him and smile through a flood of tears.

“I’m staying here for you Staci. I’m staying for you.”